Walt at Random

Four more Sherlock Holmes! And in keeping with the occasion, the first one is rather a turkey–certainly the worst Holmes I’ve seen to date.

A Study in Scarlet, 1933, b&w. Edwin L. Marin (dir.), Reginald Owen, Anna May Wong, June Clyde, Alan Dinehart, John Warburton, Alan Mowbray, Warburton Gamble. 1:12.

This one has plenty of plot (pretty much unrelated to the story), including coded newspaper ads, mysterious rhyming messages with corpses and an odd group that turns into a tontine, with the survivor(s) collecting what’s left. There’s also a foreclosed mansion with secret passages and a plucky heroine.

Unfortunately, Reginald Owens is by far the least interesting and plausible Sherlock Holmes I’ve ever seen—if anything, he’s blander than Lestrade (or Lastrade in this movie’s credits). Additonally, the print has awful sound quality and a mediocre-to-worse picture. All in all, I can’t give this more than $0.50.

Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon, 1943, b&w. Roy William Neill (dir.), Basil Rathbone, Nigel Bruce, Lionel Atwill, Dennis Hoey, William Post Jr., Kaaren Verne. 1:20 [1:08].

This one’s wildly anachronistic, since it begins with a disguised Holmes off in Europe bringing a scientist back to England with his newfangled bombsight, to protect the sight from falling into the hands of Nazis and so that British bombers will have it.

Anachronistic, yes. A WWII propaganda film of sorts, absolutely (Holmes’ final speech is classic war propaganda). But also a good Holmes flick, with a fair amount of plot, Lestrade, Holmes and Watson in the thick of things, two showdowns between Holmes and Moriarty (with Moriarty apparently plunging to his death this time around), a coded message (the only link to the Doyle source) and more. Nigel Bruce is still a somewhat fatuous Watson, but it works better this time around—and Rathbone is just fine as Holmes. It’s also an excellent print (one of the best b&w prints I’ve seen in a public domain collection) with fine sound quality as well.

As it happens, I’d seen this movie five years ago, in the set of free DVDs I got from a long-since-departed DVD magazine. The difference: That version was a very poor print, difficult to watch. Sometimes, a good print makes a difference. I’ll give this one $1.25.

Terror by Night, 1946, b&w. Roy William Neill (dir.), Basil Rathbone, Nigel Bruce, Alan Mowbray, Dennis Hoey, Renee Godfrey, Frederick Worlock. 1:00.

Mysteries on trains: A stock setting that always adds several elements. This time, we begin with the fabulous Star of Rhodesia, a 400+-carat diamond that’s brought doom to its owners. Currently, the owner is a dowager who bought it to London and is going back to Edinburgh; her son hires Holmes to make sure the gem gets there safely.

We know it’s going to be fun even before the train moves. Another familiar face also gets on the added day compartment that the dowager and Holmes are both on—Inspector Lestrade, supposedly off on a fishing vacation (a month before the season). Watson almost misses the train, and jumps on with a long-time acquaintance who…well, that would be telling. Moriarty’s still dead at this point—but there’s his sidekick Moran to deal with.

We get swapped jewels, several guilty parties (guilty of various things, including swiping a hotel coffeepot), death on the train, discussions of curry, and a remarkable (if contrived) set of scenes in the long climax. There are enough red herrings to stock a Communist fishmarket and an irascible mathematics professor who really should be the villain. It’s all high Holmesian drama…although this time Watson is, if anything, even more of a bumbling idiot than in other movies. The sound’s not perfect, but it’s still a great romp and a fun watch. Noting that, as with the others, this is a one-hour flick, I’ll give it $1.25.

Dressed to Kill, 1946, b&w. Roy William Neill (dir.), Basil Rathbone, Nigel Bruce, Patricia Morison, Frederick Worlock. 1:16 [1:08].

We begin in a prison where one convict, working on music boxes, is approached by another who suggests that the first can get a shorter sentence if he’ll just talk—which he won’t. Then to an auction house where three identical (and dull) music boxes are auctioned off to three different people—and, later in the day, a man frantically calls at the now-closed auctioneer to buy the music boxes (and pays to see who did buy them).

And we’re off. We have murder, mayhem and music boxes—and Holmes proves to be an expert whistler with an eidetic memory for tunes, along with his violin playing (on display in this flick). The music boxes turn out to be clues toward finding a set of engraving plates for five-pound notes—that is, real engraving plates. There’s a female villain. Watson is even more stupefyingly incompetent than usual even for Nigel Bruce’s version.

Not as satisfying as some of the others; the print’s not as good, there are slight sound problems and somehow this one just didn’t come off as well. Still, not bad. (Note that the 1:08 running time on the actual disc somehow shows up as 108 minutes—that is, full feature length—on the sleeve!) $1.00.

This appeared in the June 2008 Cites & Insights, as part of an omnibus Perspective “On Semantics, Reality, Learning and Rockstars.” I’m republishing it because I think it’s still relevant (maybe more so), although I’m not linking it to anything specific…

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One unfortunate undercurrent in the various discussions surrounding change and continuity has to do with lifelong learning for library people. Why “unfortunate”? I’ll get to that shortly…

On one hand, you get people saying every librarian needs to learn A and B and C and…well, you know, into the dozens. The answer to that is generally Nonsense, for several reasons:

• While each library above a certain size may need to have someone familiar with each item in a list, that doesn’t mean every person or every professional in the library needs to be familiar with every item. Very few cataloging gurus assert that every reference librarian and every rural/small library director needs intimate familiarity with RDA. It’s equally reasonable to suggest that some technical services librarians don’t need to be able to install wikis.

• For many of us, detailed learning substantially before the point of use is mostly wasted. We forget details and maybe even broad strokes. How’s your calculus these days? We need to be able to find out what we need to know when (or ideally, shortly before) we need to know it. Nothing new here either. One new thing, maybe: Some things that we’re told everybody needs to learn almost certainly will disappear or become irrelevant before many of us have the chance to put that learning to use. (How’s your understanding of Gopher navigation techniques? Updated your Orkut and Friendster profiles lately?)

• Most of us don’t have time to learn everything that might be useful for us, just as most of us don’t have time to keep up with as much formal and informal literature as might serve us well.

But there’s a huge caveat here. A huge caveat:

You don’t have to learn everything—but you do need to keep learning something.

Dorothea Salo objects to the comment “I don’t have time to learn all this!” She’s been writing about difficulties getting librarians to pay attention to issues that do affect them and notes this as one response. (The post is also about different learning styles—the notion that some people learn better in a “steady stream” of daily reading while others prefer the “single spray” method, attending a conference or workshop to pick up a lot of stuff at one point. I think she makes an excellent point—people needing to spread the word in some important areas may need to make more effort to reach those who primarily learn at conferences. All I have to say about the post as a whole is “I agree.” I’m expanding on one comment here.)

I can think of a way to hear that comment charitably, although I suspect it’s being a little too charitable. If a person is saying, “I don’t have time to learn all this,” that may sometimes be right: The person simply may not have room (time, focus, concentration) for a big learning agenda at the moment. But I don’t believe that’s what Salo’s objecting to, and I don’t think that’s what’s usually being said. What I hear, a bit less charitably, is “I don’t have time to learn any of this,” which translates to “I don’t think I need to keep learning.”

And that is simply not acceptable for anyone who calls themselves professional.

You don’t have to learn everything—but you do need to keep learning something.

So why did I say unfortunate? Because it’s easy to conflate two “don’t have time to learn” situations:

• This is too much for me to take in all at once, and some of it doesn’t apply right now or soon enough for me to retain the learning. That’s frequently valid and leaves room to find a comfort level, where learning appears more directly useful and doesn’t require loads of energy.

• I’ve learned enough. I don’t want to learn any more. Not acceptable. Not acceptable for professional librarians—and, I believe, not acceptable for anyone working long-term in the library field, professional or otherwise. That attitude wouldn’t be acceptable for doctors, lawyers, nurses, teachers or accountants. Why should it be acceptable for library people?

Maybe this does loop back to the first discussion, which was (of course) about “Library 2.0.” Consider the very first paragraph of the very first page of Balanced Libraries: Thoughts on Continuity and Change:

A library system that stands still is unbalanced and headed for trouble. A library staff obsessed with Hot New Things and aiming for new users at the expense of familiar services and existing patrons is unbalanced and headed for trouble. Very few libraries fall into either extreme, but sometimes it seems as though we’re urged toward one extreme.

Maybe I’m naïve here as well. I doubt that there are any significant numbers of libraries that look like the second strawman—but I wonder how many libraries (that is, library staffs) really do, to all intents and purposes, appear to be standing still? Let’s set this out as an opposition as well:

• I don’t want to sign up for the whole set of stuff called Library 2.0. You get no argument from me. Maybe your library shouldn’t be gaming. Maybe your patrons wouldn’t respond to social networking initiatives. Maybe you don’t have the staff to maintain a blog and don’t have any problem for which a wiki is a solution.

• I don’t want any of this Library 2.0 stuff. Our library’s fine, just fine. We don’t need to examine our operations, find better ways to stay in touch with our community or consider new technologies to support our routines. Now you get a big argument from me. I’m all for continuity, but continuity without awareness and change isn’t continuity: It’s rigidity—easily confused with rigor mortis. Even the smallest library staff needs to step back from time to time to look at how things are going, whether the library’s serving and effectively involving its community, and whether new tools could improve situations. Think you’re too small? The Wetmore Public Library (Kansas) and Seldovia Public Library (Alaska) serve communities of 362 people and 286 people respectively. Both libraries use blogs to good effect—to create an online presence they almost certainly couldn’t provide otherwise.

You don’t have to do it all (just as you may not be able to have it all). But you do have to do something—or at least make sure that you’re doing the best you can. That involves lifelong learning. That’s one of many things good public libraries support, and it’s an essential aspect of being a good library person.

I’m preaching to the choir—but maybe you can pass this particular sermon along to those who might think that old traditionalist Crawford is saying it’s OK for them to do nothing at all. They’re wrong.

What’s up at the new Library Leadership Network (LLN)?

New and updated articles and the transition

• More than five dozen articles completely moved from the old LLN, with light updates in several cases. (Any time an article’s completely moved, there’s a link in place of the old article.)
• Kindle and Ebook Reader Notes now includes the Sony Pocket Reader in the comparison table and has updated prices, specs and commentary on current ebook readers.
• Engaging the Community: Beyond the Website is a brand-new article, currently combining two commentaries by Jamie LaRue and a new one by Jill Hurst-Wahl.
• Long and the Short of It–the only Letter from the Editor we currently plan to move to the new LLN–has been updated to include current figures
• All 25 of the most widely read articles from October 9 through November 8 are now completely moved to the new LLN; we’re working on the 25 other most widely read over time.

Leader’s Digest

New items on social media trends for 2010, local book search from LibraryThing, getting the most from your best employees–and the ongoing question of whether people will pay for online content.

Short Week, No Post

For Canadian and other non-U.S. readers: This is Thanksgiving week, making it a three-day week. Since we’re mostly working on cleaning up articles as they move to the new platform, we’ll skip a week on these posts. Look for a new post on December 7–or check Read & Learn at the new LLN from time to time, where you’ll find a “New in Read & Learn” section that’s equivalent to the What’s New page in the old LLN.

Meanwhile, happy holidays.

Just a quick note, because it came up in the long comment thread attached to this post at Whatever, John Scalzi’s blog:

Self publishing and vanity publishing via vanity presses are not the same thing. Lulu and CreateSpace might (or might not) be a third thing.

I’m pleased to say that most commenters who chose to address the issue do make a distinction, unlike a number of people I’ve seen in the past (who regard anything other than traditional “New York publisher” publishing as vanity publishing).

The basic difference:

• Vanity Publisher: The author pays a fairly substantial sum, based on the idea that the book will then be “published”–that is, edited, printed, promoted, sold in bookstores–as part of the imprint of the vanity publisher. Typically, that sum is in the thousands of dollars. The author “gets royalties”–if anybody other than the author ever buys anything.
• Self Publishing: The author is the publisher–and uses other agencies to handle some of the chores involved with publishing. Generally, the author understands that nobody else is going to edit, promote, place in bookstores, whatever, unless the author pays them for those specific tasks. The author controls the book, sets prices, gets all net proceeds, etc.

Traditionally–and self publishing has been around for centuries–a self-publisher has a run of books printed and bound, then sets about selling them. There’s still a considerable up-front cost, but the author goes in with eyes wide open, not some questionable promises.

Here’s where Lulu and, to some extent, similar services are a little different: The service agency only prints and binds books when they’re ordered, but the service agency can also act as the “bookstore”–taking and fulfilling the orders. In Lulu’s case, that can mean $0 upfront investment. (Of course, if you want to peddle your books to local bookstores or sell them yourself, there is an upfront investment: You have to pay Lulu’s production charges, which are considerably higher per copy than traditional publishing–but considerably less than the minimum price for a traditional print run, when you only need a few dozen copies.)

(It gets muddled. Lulu also has all sorts of optional services, which they pointedly do not push at you, in which you pay for things like cover design, manuscript editing, ISBN and Amazon distribution, Ingram distribution and Books in Print listing, publicity packages… I’ve never used any of those services, so I can’t speak to them.)

Interestingly, Scalzi–a successful science fiction writer–uses Lulu to process his manuscripts, for his own use, so he has nice printed-and-bound versions of what he’s working on, at very low cost. To some extent, that’s what I’m doing with the annual volumes of Cites & Insights: If nobody else buys a copy, I’ve acquired the bound copy I need, with better quality than I could do locally, for a very reasonable price. (My wife’s doing two genealogical volumes for her family; she decided to do the first “published” copy so she could do a final editing pass more easily than on screen…and we’ll upload a revised version later, before acquiring the copies she’s giving away and making it available to others.)

I don’t think most Lulu projects (over a million to date, I believe) are traditional self-publishing, because I don’t think the creators have any expectation of selling more than a handful of copies. They’re family calendars, photo collections done as gifts, very short-run publications, what have you. I believe some open access journals are using Lulu to make an annual hardcopy version available for the libraries that might wish to purchase one–and, to be sure, the price is likely to be reasonable. Some Lulu authors have probably done quite well, and a few Lulu titles have gone on to become traditional books (the author always owns the copyright and maintains total control; the Lulu edition is not exclusive)…but that’s not usually the point.

A few years back, I had a breakfast conversation about possible distributed publicity campaigns for American public libraries. I had the notion that, if properly defined, every library was a star: That every public library does something unusually well, something worth publicizing.

(No, this actually isn’t a comment on one particular magazine’s “star library” listings. I don’t want to get into that, lacking enough background to comment knowledgeably.)

When I decided to do a followup to The Liblog Landscape 2007-2008, one of the changes was to avoid having one huge, somewhat indigestible, chapter with all the blog profiles (that’s pages 122-268 of the book–as I say, it’s a huge chapter). Having them all in one alphabetical order is great for quick lookups, but doesn’t really encourage reading the profiles–there are just too many.

So, for But Still They Blog: The Liblog Landscape 2007-2009 (on its way soon–I need to choose a cover photo, prepare the cover, upload it and check over a trial copy, but first there’s a little matter of Thanksgiving, where we’ll host twice as many people as ever before), I decided to distribute the profiles:

Several chapters include lists of blogs that are noteworthy in one dimension or another. For most of those lists, if the blog hasn’t already been profiled, the profile appears at the end of that chapter.

So, for example, chapter one ends with 87 profiles, chapter two 56, chapter three 41, chapter four 105…

Did every blog wind up profiled in one of the main chapters? Not quite. Some liblogs, including a few that I consider particularly important, just didn’t stand out in terms of quantifiable metrics–which aren’t, to be sure, the most important things about blogs.

But most did. The final chapter includes the rest of the profiles, and it only has 55 profiles out of 521 liblogs in the book: 10.6% of the total. Even using a relatively small set of metrics, 89.4% of blogs had some noteworthy (positive) characteristic. If I’d included lists of standouts for 2007 or 2008, which I generally didn’t, I’m sure I would have picked up even more. (Quick inspection says that’s definitely true for 22 of the 55.)

As for libraries? I still think it’s an interesting idea, but not one I’m in any position to pursue.

We put Across the Universe on our Netflix list when it came out–I’m not quite sure why. When it arrived and we read over the blurb, my wife said “This is probably one you’ll want to watch on your own–unless you think I’d like it.”

So I started in, using headphones as I usually would if I’m the only one watching. Using headphones: That’s a significant point, and in this case a Really. Bad. Idea. Because you can hear the musical arrangements extremely well…and that was unfortunate. Within ten minutes, I reassured my wife, “No, you probably don’t want to watch this.” I did watch it all the way through…a bad habit acquired when watching the old public-domain flicks.

Backing up a bit

Understand: We both like (most) musicals. We both enjoyed Mamma Mia!, which in some ways is a similar idea (build a movie around one group’s songs, with actors doing all the singing). (I know what people have said, but we thought Pierce Brosnan’s singing was perfectly acceptable for the situation.) We both like (some) Beatles music.

And, in fact, I don’t fault the actors singing the Beatles songs in Across the Universe. I thought Evan Rachel Wood did a credible job, Jim Sturgess was thin but OK, Martin Luther was good, and Dana Fuchs didn’t actually make my ears bleed very much (in any case, I think she was supposed to be channeling Janis Joplin at her most abrasive).

Set aside the “story”

I’m not going to concern myself with the so-called plot, the so-called acting and all that. It was what it was–pretty sad, but it was what it was. I’d certainly never sit through it again.

What really got to me were the arrangements.

[Section deleted because I really don't know much about the people in charge, and so shouldn't ascribe motives. What I do know is what I heard--which was particularly uninteresting, leaden electric bass and drum parts in the arrangements that use the instruments.]

OK, I get that McCartney was somewhat of a revolutionary in making the electric bass something other than a percussion instrument. I’ll admit that I never thought of Starr as a world-class drummer, but compared to what goes on in these arrangements, he’s a master of subtlety and technique.

There were a couple of real singers in the performance. Bono should be ashamed. Let’s let it go at that. Still, going to IMDB, I see dozens (hundreds!) of enthusiastic reviews, along with some bad ones (apparently, 186 reviewers out of 441 gave it less than 7.5 stars out of 10–and 52 of those gave it the lowest possible rating. I’m with that group, thanks).

Cites & Insights 9 (2009) is now available as a 434-page, 8.5×11, trade paperback, exclusively from Lulu.

The volume includes all 13 issues, exactly as published (typos and all), except that the two book covers in the January issue are in grayscale, not color.

It also includes a contents list showing the articles and pages in each issue, and a volume index.

The price is $50, for either the paperback or a PDF download; a portion of that price goes to support the ongoing publication of Cites & Insights.

The book is printed on bright-white 50lb. paper (my copy looks great!).

As to the cover (a wraparound color photo–you’re only seeing the front part here):

Taken by my wife on Molokai, years ago, on the Kaluakakoi golf course running alongside our room at what was then, I believe, a Sheraton at the Ke Nani Kai resort on Molokai’s isolated west coast. (The hotel’s been closed for some time…tourism on Molokai is an iffy thing.) The only manipulation done to the picture (scanned from a 3×4 print) was to flip it horizontally, so most of the tree would be on the front cover rather than the back. Crappy type position is entirely my responsibility.

I’ll do a proper post with a cover shot tomorrow, but in case you’re interested:

The trade paperback version of Cites & Insights 9: 2009 is now available.

It costs $50, and represents direct support (to the tune of about $27) for C&I–and if you don’t want the print book and want to support C&I even more (around $38), you can buy the downloadable PDF for the same $50.

Naturally, all individual issues of C&I continue to be freely available. (But you can only get the wraparound cover shot, taken on Molokai, with the book…)

A longer version tomorrow, if all goes well.

What’s new on the Library Leadership Network–and the new Library Leadership Network?

Improved articles

In the process of moving articles to the new LLN, we’re updating and improving some of them as we go.

• Future Catalogs: Food for Thought now includes a section on separating the discovery layer from the integrated library system.
• Blogging Notes now includes the short version of a 2009 update on the state of blogging by library people, based on an investigation of more than 500 such blogs. (The first publication of this information.)

Leader’s Digest

New items on the importance of convenience and how to succeed as a new leader.

You pay the big bucks to install a photovoltaic system on your South-facing roof–paying up front, not on a mysterious contract basis. So you’ve essentially prepaid most of your electric bills for the next 20 years or so (let’s say 80%, since most systems are sized to replace 60% to 80% of the power needs).

Now you can relax and ignore your electricity use, right? After all, you’re almost never going to use more than Tier 1 (assuming tiered pricing by usage), so whatever power you do buy will be cheap.

Why do I say “photovoltaic” rather than “solar”? Well, it’s a much neater word–but also, quite a few rooftop solar installations don’t generate electricity; they’re solar water-heating installations, frequently used for swimming pools. An entirely different technology, with the only real commonalities being the use of the sun as a power source and the use of dark roof-mounted panels.

The paradox

We had good electricity habits before our photovoltaic system went live–we both grew up turning off lights when we left rooms, now that we have air conditioning we set it at a moderate temperature, we were already using CFLs in some appropriate spots, etc. In fact, that made us a poor candidate for some photovoltaic companies–while the American household average use is apparently more than 900kWH/month (900 kilowatt-hours, that is), we ran between 360 and 480 the first few months we were here (and using AC for the first time).

But here’s the thing:

• When PG&E installs the new meter, you see exactly how much energy you’re using (rounded to the nearest 10 watts, when read in conjunction with your inverter’s output reading), and total usage is in big bold numbers.
• At least for a while, it’s a bit of a game: You know your system’s rated maximum output, the inverter shows current output whenever it’s operating, you want to see how close you’re coming at various times of day and weather conditions.
• Even more of a game, actually: “Hmm. We’re generating 1,900 watts and the power meter says the utility is receiving 1,500 watts. What’s using 400 watts in the household?” You get very interested in what the house uses “at idle”–during the daytime with no lights on and no appliances or computers running.
• Somehow, even though you know you’re actually generating better than 80% of the power you’re using, even in mid-November with shorter days and possibly lower efficiency, you want–or at least we want–to see what would lower overall usage even further, without deprivation or anything.

That’s the paradox: Making a change that should make electricity use almost irrelevant, even on an environmental basis, has made us more aware of electricity use. We’re paying attention more–and I’m pretty sure we’re not alone.

The contractor we used, Solar City, makes it even easier to obsess just a little: The systems include SolarGuard, at least for the first five years–a wifi-based monitoring system that reports the system’s current and overall generation every fifteen minutes. Solar City uses that to monitor for signs of trouble–but each customer also has a web page. With a daily graph–showing, half-hour by half-hour, how much you’ve generated (and the total for the day, the total to date, and previous daily, weekly, monthly charts). Oh, and also how many dollars worth of electricity you’ve generated and how many pounds of CO2 haven’t been emitted because you’re using less utility electricity (making some assumptions about the source of that electricity, to be sure).

It’s an interesting setup. They assume you have broadband, and provide a tiny little wifi router that plugs into an available Ethernet port on your system (in our case, on our own wifi router); it communicates with a transmitter in the inverter. (I don’t know who actually builds the wifi router, but it’s “designed and manufactured in the USA”–as were our thin-film panels.)

Favorable unintended consequences

We’re a little more conscious of how and where we use electricity than we were, and we were pretty good before. Is that good, bad or indifferent? I don’t really know. (We figured out that our “idle rate” is between 50 and 80 watts–after realizing that turning on the garage lights while checking the idle rate was skewing it, since those old-fashioned fluorescents themselves use about 80 watts.)

There is, as it turns out, another unintended consequence, one that’s specific to SolarGuard, and that one’s absolutely favorable.

I’d been noticing that on some, maybe most, mornings when I first turn on my notebook PC, it could take anywhere from three to ten minutes of futzing around before I could get a stable DSL connection–sometimes, I’d have to unplug the modem or reboot it.

My wife, who uses wifi for her notebook, had noticed that some afternoons or evenings, after I’d been off my computer (or at least off the internet) for a couple of hours, she’d have trouble getting a connection, and sometimes couldn’t get one at all without rebooting the modem or the router.

I was wondering whether AT&T DSL (or the modem) was simply “forgetful”–that, if not used every so often, it would just drop the connection.

Well… SolarGuard apparently sends info every 15 minutes, whether the inverter’s actually generating power or not.

Since SolarGuard went live, neither of us has had problems connecting. At all. (Cross fingers.)

Maybe being “reminded” once every fifteen minutes is just enough to keep DSL live. If so, it’s a nice little extra.

Hmm… Lemme see here… We just passed 10kWh generation for the day. Not bad for November.

Full disclosure: this two-DVD, 35-short set was a gift from Mill Creek Entertainment, one of several they sent me along with a replacement disc, for free, with no request or expectation. It’s not a set I would have ordered, since I’ve already seen six of the nine sets of shorts (as Disc 1 and side one of Disc 2 of 50 Movie Comedy Classics, but with the two Buster Keaton collections combined into one very long 8-short collection in this set). Actually, that’s not entirely true: there’s one more Our Gang short, and it’s possible that some Fatty Arbuckle shorts are different.

The new discs are recent vintage, which means they’re two-layer single-sided discs with full-color covers, rather than the old single-layer two-sided discs with titles in the hub. The DVD menus are also a little classier than the old style. Otherwise, pretty similar—and I’m only including reviews for the three new “festivals.” (See Cites & Insights 9:9, August 2009, for the rest.)

Disc 1

Charlie Chaplin Festival. Three shorts, all starring (and written by) Charles Chaplin in his tramp character, all also featuring Edna Purviance and the tall, menacing Eric Campbell; all silent b&w with unrelated music; two without intertitles, one with. Includes The Cure, 1917, Henry Bergman, John Rand, James T. Kelley, 0:31 [0:19]; Easy Street, 1917, 0:19; and The Rink, 1916, James T. Kelley, Henry Bergman 0:30 [0:20].

Charlie Chaplin was unquestionably a master of physical comedy during this period—although not without a streak of cruelty in The Rink, the earliest of the three. While all three play as aspects of his tramp persona, they’re markedly different.

In The Cure, Chaplin’s a drunkard taking the cure—but doing so with a huge trunk entirely filled with booze. Most of the comedy either involves revolving doors (played to the hilt) or the consequences when an attendant throws all of Chaplin’s booze out the window—and into the well that’s the heart of the cure, with ensuing general merriment. I gave this one $0.75—it was consistently funny and cleverly done.

Easy Street sees the tramp triumphant—down on his luck in a mission, then (on a whim) signing up to be a cop and defeating the street’s master bully. The mass fighting near the beginning doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the rest of the picture is really very well plotted and carried out. The print’s not as good as it might be, but it’s still a solid short (and the only one that appears to be full-length. $0.60.

The Rink begins in a restaurant, where Chaplin’s a really poor waiter—but the heart of it is in a skating rink, where Chaplin displays superior comedy skating skills along with a mean streak. This is the only one with any title cards; it was also, to my mind, the least satisfying. $0.45

Taken together, this is just under an hour of first-rate physical comedy from a master of the genre, with generally acceptable prints, and I think the overall $1.80 is fair.

Keystone Cops Festival. Four shorts, 0:56 total; I gave it a total of $0.40.

Our Gang Festival. Four shorts, 1:12 total, including one I hadn’t seen before, Waldo’s Last Stand. I gave the other three a total of $0.50. Waldo’s Last Stand is mostly kids doing dance routines; I’d give it maybe $0.15, for a total of $0.65.

Three Stooges Festival. Four shorts, all starring some version of the Three Stooges (Larry Fine, Moe Howard, and either Shemp Howard or Curly Howard), all sound, b&w. (Disorder in the Court includes Curly; the others include Shemp.) Includes The Brideless Groom, 1947, Edward Bernds. (dir.), Dee Green, Christine McIntyre, 0:17; Disorder in the Court, 1936, Jack White (dir.), 0:16; Malice in the Palace, 1949, Jules White (dir.), Vernon Dent, George Lewis, 0:16; and Sing a Song of Six Pants, 1947, Jules White (dir.), Virginia Hunter, Tiny Brauer, Vernon Dent, 0:17, for a total of 1:05.

Some comedians and comedy film groups, such as the East Side Kids, are clearly acquired tastes. If you’d asked me earlier, I might have said I liked the Three Stooges for dumb humor, although I hadn’t seen them in years. In this case, absence makes the heart go wander: I now find that it’s a taste I’ve disacquired. The group seems lame, riding one or two pieces of schtick for all they’re worth. On the other hand, the prints are all quite good—but if you’re a Stooges person, you probably already have these. (Or maybe not: Apparently they’re the only Stooges shorts to fall into the public domain, so are left out of pricier compilations.)

The Brideless Groom has one of the Stooges as a music teacher with a horrendously bad vocal pupil; another one finds that he’s eligible for a huge inheritance—but only if he’s married within the next six hours. Big dumb comedy ensues. Very generously, $0.30.

Disorder in the Court is, if possible, a little dumber, although it does include a nice little dance routine. It’s set in a courtroom, with the Stooges key witnesses to try to save an innocent woman from a murder rap. $0.25.

Malice in the Palace involves a huge diamond, adventurers and schtick; that may be insufficient, but other than a restaurant sketch suggesting that the chef was serving up cats and dogs, it’s hard to remember even 12 hours later. $0.20.

Sing a Song of Six Pants has the Stooges as failing tailors, which allows for lots of their kind of comedy based on beating the crap out of one another. $0.25.

You know what? All those ratings are generous, based on the possibility that you’ll find this stuff funnier than I do. It seems to add up to $1.00, but I’d rank it lower than that.

W. C. Fields Festival. Three shorts, all starring W. C. Fields, all sound, b&w. Includes The Dentist, 1932, Leslie Pearce (dir.), Marjorie Kane, Arnold Gray, Dorothy Granger, Elise Cavanna, 0:21; The Fatal Glass of Beer, 1933, Clyde Bruckman (dir.), Rosemary Theby, George Chandler, Richard Cramer, 0:21 [0:19]; and The Golf Specialist, 1930, Monte Brice (dir.), Shirley Grey, John Dunsmuir, Al Wood, 0:20.

OK, so I do like W.C. Fields—and although I’ve seen these three before (but can’t remember when), I enjoyed seeing them again. All good prints, good enough so the tacky rear projection in Fatal Glass of Beer is as obvious as Fields wanted it to be.

The Dentist is Fields at his most irascible (and mildly foolish), with some remarkable physical comedy during the dental scenes (and some funny golf stuff). $0.50.

The Fatal Glass of Beer is what it is—a classic satire on cheaply-made studio melodramas. Fields is a Yukon gold prospector going back to his frozen homestead (but with a big gold nougat, at least the way he pronounces it). We get his musical charms along the way (the titular song) and the no-good son who returns to the flock. That, and a running gag that, for some reason, never gets old. ‘Taint a fit night out for man nor beast, but it’s a funny, funny short. $0.75.

The Golf Specialist has Fields as a con man, a hotel dick’s wife who is always hot to trot, the world’s most annoying caddy…well, it’s another charmer, if you like Fields. $0.50.

That comes out to $1.75. Fields was unique, perhaps the slowest-paced physical comedian in the business, and I found this hour quite satisfying.

Disc 2

All previously reviewed, with the Buster Keaton Festival (nearly three hours!) split into two parts:

All-Star Extravanza. Three shorts, 0:55 total, with a variety of casts. While I gave it a total of $0.75, one of the shorts—La Cucaracha—is the first live-action three-strip Technicolor film and interesting on that account.

Buster Keaton Festival. Eight shorts, 2:49 total. As presented on the earlier set (split into Festival and Classics), I gave this collection a total of $3.10—which is too high for one “picture,” but an indication that there’s some great stuff here from a master of silent comedy. Let’s call it $2.

Fatty Arbuckle Festival. Three shorts, 0:44 total—and one of three barely has Arbuckle in it at all. $0.50. (Note: This might be different shorts—I didn’t bother to look.)

Stan Laurel Festival. Three shorts, 0:65 total. $0.75.

So what do we have? Disc 1 seems to add up to $5.60, Disc 2 to $4 (or more). Is there really $9.60 worth of slapstick here? Well, there are 35 shorts, including a handful of true classics; you can probably stream all or most of these from the Internet Archive or elsewhere, but you can get it for $4.36 via Amazon (indirectly)—although, since it’s apparently been discontinued, that may not be true for too long.

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Normally, I post each disc’s worth of old movies as a blog post–and then publish reviews for half a collection (or a tenth of a collection, for the 60-disc Mystery Collection, or the entire collection for sets of six discs or less) in Cites & Insights as an Offtopic Perspective.

I don’t plan to do that this time–there’s just not enough new to bother with.

I also don’t plan to keep the discs–and, since it turns out that the entire set of 20 Hitchcock flicks is included in another (somewhat misnamed) 50-movie collection that Mill Creek sent me for free, there’s very little reason to keep that set.

So here’s the deal: I’ll be at Midwinter 2010 (big shock there!), staying in the Westin Boston Waterfront, there from Friday morning (I’m taking a red-eye) through Monday evening. If you’re going to be at either the LITA Happy Hour (assuming there is one and it’s in a convenient location) or at the OCLC Bloggers Salon (assuming there is one), you could be the proud owner of one of these small sets of public domain stuff.

I’ll ask appropriate prices: “thanks” for the Slapstick Festival, a glass of wine for the Hitchcock collection.

If you’re going to be at ALA Midwinter and one of these shindigs, and if you want one of these sets, let me kn0w–first come, first served–in a comment or via email.

Now, on to Disc 5 of the Mystery Collection, which is four more Sherlock Holmes movies–three with Basil Rathbone, one with Reginald Owen, and one full feature length. I wish I could say I’m excited about seeing four more Holmes flicks…ah, but that’s another post, one that probably won’t get posted.

A couple of weeks ago I posted “Sometimes it’s just a waste” about preparing a “trimmed” set of liblogs, running some metrics, and finding the results so uninteresting that I discarded the partial chapter.

I got a couple of comments on the post, one of which eventually resulted in rethinking the effort.

Most of the new study, But Still They Blog, avoids averages as being meaningless in a universe as heterogeneous as liblogs. But there may be cases where averages are still at least mildly interesting–particularly if the universe is made a little more homogeneous.

Here’s what I did:

• First, prepared a table of averages and supporting figures for all of the blogs in the study, for the cases where averages might have some use. That table fits on a single book page with room to spare.
• Second, removed all blogs that don’t have length metrics for all three years (either because there were no posts or because I couldn’t measure length).
• Third, removed eight blogs that seem atypical–most of them some form of current awareness service, one a pure link-and-headline blog committed to one very brief post per day. That’s eight of the 325 blogs that have length metrics for all three years–not many, but they make a difference.
• Then prepared a table with the same averages and totals (a shorter table, since the first one had to account for blogs with no length metrics).
• Noted the differences–to wit, a more distinct dropoff in posts from 2008 to 2009, and a more distinct, if still small, increase in average post length–and provided two more figures: The number of blogs each year with “essay length” posts, using two definitions of “essay length.” Using either definition, the number of essay-length blogs has grown substantially over the years.

It’s not a big deal–it adds four pages to what will still be the shortest chapter in the book–but it’s mildly interesting. And, given the nature of the spreadsheet, it probably took longer to describe trimming the universe than to actually do it…

So I was preparing Cites & Insights Volume 9 for the annual trade-paperback version…

And I realized something, or, rather, was reminded of something I already knew:

TL; SAT

It’s too long. Sorry about that.

What do I mean by “too long”? My original aim for C&I was to do 12 12-page to 16-page issues a year (a total of 144 to 192 pages), back when this all started in 2001. Since then, I’ve adjusted expectations, and since 2004  I think in terms of “around 300 pages per year,” roughly 12 24-page issues (with either an extra issue or one or two running to 26 pages).

Not that I get there, to be sure. Volume 8 had only 12 issues (the only time that’s happened) but they totaled 330 pages–which was at least lower than volumes 6 and 7 (362 and 350 pages each).

This year? Sigh… 418 pages, not including the index. That’s 56 pages longer than Volume 6, the longest volume prior to this, and spread across 13 instead of 14 issues.

What happened?

I think what happened was overcompensation–that, and the fact that I included the “non-profile portion” of three different books as part of C&I this year, which accounts for 70 of those 418 pages. Without those inclusions, the volume is a mere 348 pages, more or less on target (mostly less, since the target’s still around 300 pages).

Overcompensation? Yep. Going into this year, I knew we were going to seriously hunt for a new house and plan to sell the old one–and that meant preparing to have the interior painted, doing some other little fixups, and of course loads of disruption for prepacking, painting, looking at houses, drawing up offers, packing, moving, unpacking, seeing what needed to be done at the new house…

So, basically, every month I was a little nervous about not having anything ready when time came to publish the next issue–and took one way out: I prepared substantial essays when I had time to do so, to make sure there’d be something on hand.

The result was that I always did have something on hand–and that I put together some fairly large essays that might not have happened under other circumstances.

I’m not apologizing for the quality of Volume 9. I think it’s just fine–a bit heavy on mega-essays, but maybe that’s OK. The length? Well, it is what it is; I’d prefer a shorter volume, but that’s life.

Promises

I don’t promise to do better next year. Heck, I don’t even promise that there will be a next year–that is, that I’ll do a full Volume 10 of at least 12 issues. It seems likely, but without sponsorship or “secondary revenue sources,” it’s not certain. And assuming it does move forward, I’ll still aim for roughly 24-page issues, but I’ll still publish issues that are the length they need to be.

As to that paperback volume…

It’s done. I’ve ordered the proof copy. Assuming nothing stupidly wrong–not the usual typos, because I don’t fix typos once an issue’s published–I’ll turn it on for public access and announce it. As usual, it will be $50 for either the book or a downloadable PDF, the latter particularly representing support for C&I (since you can, to be sure, download all 13 issues and the index for $0).

Now to not do any advance writing for C&I Volume 10…at least until I’ve gotten further along with But Still They Blog: The Liblog Landscape 2007-2009.

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An afterthought: In case you’re wondering, Volume 9 contains just over 331,000 words (plus a bunch of tables and figures in one issue). The previous record was roughly 289,000 words in Volume 7; although Volume 6 had more pages, it had fewer words–I tweaked the format in 2007 to get more words per page.

What’s new at the Library Leadership Network (LLN)–and the new Library Leadership Network?

New and improved articles

• Ebook notes includes thoughts from Tim Spalding on why ebook pricing models could disadvantage libraries (and some early notes have been removed).
• You’ll find key points from, and link to, a Library Journal article on marketing trends in Trends to consider.
• Management notes leads off with excerpts from “Not so fast,” a compelling article (a book review in essay form) that suggests that “scientific management” is an oxymoron.
• Open access issues now begins with excerpts from “Ten challenges for open-access journals,” compulsory reading for anyone interested in the future of open access journals.

What’s hot at LLN?

You’ll find a new set of the 25 articles read (or at least viewed) the most between October 9 and November 8, 2008, including seven articles that weren’t in last month’s list–and 25 other long-term leaders.

Leader’s Digest

New this week (and only on the new LLN): technologies you can’t afford to ignore, how to “manage up” (leading–or managing–successfully from the middle), convenience as key to success and “how to be a great speaker.”

One extra click…

Beginning later today and continuing for some time, you may find that some of your favorite LLN articles require one more click to read. That’s because we’re migrating content to the “Read & Learn” section of the new, Drupal-based, Library Leadership Network.

We’ll have a more complete writeup on editorial changes as part of this migration in the near future, but for now here’s what you need to know:

• When an article’s fully migrated, the old (MediaWiki) article will be replaced by a single sentence telling you it’s moved–and that sentence will link you directly to the new (Drupal) article. One more click and you’re there.
• The most widely-read and up-to-date articles will migrate first, followed by improved versions of other articles over time.
• You won’t lose free access to the articles. The Read & Learn section of the new LLN will continue to be freely available to everybody and operate with a Creative Commons BY-NC license, and it will continue to be home to a variety of new editorial content on all aspects of library leadership.
• This blog will continue to be a great way to keep up with new and improved editorial content in the Library Leadership Network.

Full disclosure: There are several library-related topics that I simply don’t write about, for one reason or another–inherent conflicts of interest, various agreements, total ignorance…

One of those is integrated library systems, so I have no direct comments to make about a set of conversations currently taking place within various blogs, FriendFeed and probably other venues.

I do have one side comment, though.

One of the parties in these conversations says there are three “big open source applications”–Firefox, Apache and Linux. (The discussion that follows leads me to believe that there’s an implication that these are the big open source applications.) That statement makes me wonder how “big” is defined–setting aside the question of whether Apache or Linux are “applications.”

I’m posting this on my blog, which uses WordPress software, which is open source software. WordPress software runs millions of blogs. Is that big?

My part-time job is as Editorial Director of the Library Leadership Network, which is in the midst of a platform change.

• The old platform is MediaWiki, which is open source software. MediaWiki is also the platform for an obscure little wiki some of you may have heard of: Wikipedia.
• The new platform is Drupal, which is open source software. My sense is that Drupal is used for one heck of a lot of content management systems (albeit probably few with the size or traffic of Wikipedia, which of course runs on scalable proprietary open source software).

I’m as much an open source independent as I am an open access independent. I’m quite happy with Vista (and will move to Windows 7 soon) and, although I’ve tried OpenOffice, I much prefer Word2007 and Office2007 in general. But I believe a few million people use OpenOffice, which is open source software.

So I guess it depends on your definition of “big.”

(I’m guessing there are some other open source programs used by millions of people, which for me is a pretty good definition of “big”; I only included ones I’m personally familiar with.)