Over the years a rather distinct and identifiable style
has crept into these columns - or at least I like to think that it has. A characteristic
column usually consists of a medium length main page that more or less flows
like an essay - I introduce a topic (usually with some personal reference that
explains what caused me, at this particular time, to deal with that particular
topic) and then, in at least a handful of paragraphs (and often quite a few
more) examine various aspects of that topic - some rather predictable, some
perhaps a bit unexpected. And of course at the end I try to round out my examination
of the topic with some sort of clincher sentence or two - usually a sort of
return to the opening but with a slightly different take on things. Anyone who
has suffered through a freshman writing course would probably identify the roots
of the style. Even if my writing sometimes succeeds in breaking free from the
authorized paragraph style of introductory sentence, discussion of that
sentence and summary sentence, astute readers should have little difficulty
noticing that during my studies of long ago I apparently learned my lesson (almost
too) well.
But that's not all. Branching out from this basic structural
trunk are the links - usually about fifteen shoots or buds. These are, of course,
ideas, reflections, commentary and general associations that come to mind from
the central text or from the branches, and the
branchlets of those branches, of the essay. There's certainly lots of (perhap
too much) black on white text in these pages, but there are also quite a few
words and phrases which are blue and underlined. These links are not necessarily
a subtext, nor a supertext. Perhaps they might be called sidetexts in the sense
that they are often (though not always) tangential to the main gist of the text.
Readers are free to click (or not click) on a link to read its content, to see
where it leads, to find out what sort of associations
came to my mind as outgrowths from what's written in
the main text. Over the years, the somewhat precarious coexistence of these
two almost contradictory elements - a rather conventional expository writing
style, and numerous links scattered throughout the text that seem to break away
from the expected convention - has become, if I may, the crux of the Boidem's
style.
As noted, readers may choose
to click or not click on the links in the text. For me, it's not really
a choice, though I suppose that it would be going too far to claim that it's
a necessity. As I create the links I'm constantly asking myself whether creating
or not creating each one is truly called for, is justifiable. Do
I really need a link there? Wouldn't parentheses be easier? Or why not simply
commas? Hypertext may be fun to play with, but maybe it makes more sense simply
to stuff everything into one big run-on sentence?
Though the amount of seemingly almost frivolous links in these pages might suggest
that I give myself free reign, that I let whatever thought springs into my head
its linked day in the sun, the truth is that I'm often deciding that I really
don't need a link in a particular passage. Many more links don't see
the light of day than do.
From as far back as I can remember I've always been fascinated
by the single drop that seems to contain the entire universe. Hypertext seems
to give me the same feeling - starting from an almost insignificant thought
additional, almost unlimited, thoughts seem to continually spring up and attach
themselves. The single thought, like the single drop, seems to encompass the
entire world. But an approach such as this may also be little more than simply
another way of telling my own story - in all its tedious
details. This particular reflection, the
metaphor of the single drop, for instance, sprung to mind while I was washing
dishes, and reading a note that was intended to be thrown out but ended up on
the kitchen counter instead. So while washing dishes I read a note telling us
that a book my daughter had asked for from the library (translated into English,
the title was "All Because of a Winter Puddle") was now available
for her, and in a rather predictable fashion, the note ended up on the kitchen
counter, and the thought found its way to this column.
Only recently I wrote about
repeating myself - about making the same points over and over, quoting the same
quotes, even linking to the same links. I get the feeling that I'm repeating
myself here as well, though I've also admitted that repetition is part of the
style of these columns. Any examination of the use of hypertext on my part
will tend to cover territory previously covered - sometimes to reiterate points
I've made and sometimes to reexamine, from a different perspective, and often
with different results, my relationship with linking. In the past I've asked
whether the use of hypertext is little more than a ploy, a wink in the direction
of something a bit out of the ordinary and perhaps even almost original, to
express thoughts that might have been communicated just as well if not even
better in more traditionally structured writing. Though hypertexting may be
fun, it's far from clear whether it's necessary. Perhaps I could have saved
myself, and my readers, quite a bit of finger strenght had I not compelled them
to read via the mouse rather than only their eyes. In a positive sense it may
not even matter. Good writing should be, after all, good writing. Some good
writing is highly structured, some quite free-flowing. Some good writing relies
on lots of metaphors, some uses them sparingly. Some good writing is highly
reflective, some maintains an attitude of personal detachment. For reasons that
probably have more to do with the way I think rather than with the way readers
read, I include a rather large number of hypertextual links in my writing. That
unto itself isn't what makes my writing here either good or bad. Linking has
become a readily identifiable aspect of these columns, such that the question
of to link or not to link has lost its relevance. Whether or not those links
are used in an intelligent, challenging and hopefully entertaining manner is
important. Their existence has become a given.
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