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When I first got to college, I thought English as a discipline was static. Unchanging. I had some vague notion that literary works heralded as “classic” or “canon” are worthy of these labels because scholars consider the writing to be as perfect as possible. Shakespeare’s texts have lasted centuries because, as “perfect” works, they have been deemed worthy of preservation–preservation from change. (Or, so I thought at the time.) Having always been interested in writing, I was intrigued to start learning about the secret to what makes a “classic” a “classic,” and particularly what makes it worthy of preservation as an unchanging entity. What I failed to realize then, is that even the most “perfect” work is imperfect and ever-changing.

I am now a junior, three years into the English major at SUNY Geneseo, and my views on English and the humanities have changed dramatically. I now believe that the concept of a “finished product” or “finished work” is a myth. What is more, perfection is an unattainable asymptote for which writers strive, but can never reach. Literary works are a show of a writers’ efforts toward perfection; they are not a show of the actual achievement of perfection.

Being introduced to “meta-reading” (i.e., the analysis of the drafts and revisions–both during the writing process, and post-production–that a text has undergone) is responsible for reshaping my flawed perception of English as a discipline. The concept of “fluid text,” in which a text’s meaning can be enhanced through studying the changes it went through, was a new concept to me. During my studies, I began to understand that, when a writer chooses to replace or omit certain words/phrases/passages, these edits are what make for a “fluid” text—one that does not adhere to one single “true” version. By examining drafts and revisions, we can gain insight into the writing and thinking process of writers and even their intended messages.

Learning about meta-reading has opened my eyes to the truths of literary study. My first encounter with meta-reading was during a course I took on W. B. Yeats. The class opened my eyes to the imperfect, even frantic writing process that such literary greats as Yeats underwent in order to present a supposedly “perfect” “finished work,” fit for public consumption. Yet, even after publication, I learned that it is not uncommon for writers to revise and republish their works.

In trying to understand why an author would go through the effort of revising his/her works that have already been published, I think W. B. Yeats himself summed up the possible reasons well: “Whatever changes I have made are but an attempt to express better what I thought and felt when I was a young man.” This same concept can connect to a well-known, if seemingly paradoxical, Bob Dylan lyric: “I was so much older then; I’m younger than that now.”

Now, as I study the digital humanities and Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, my understanding of the ever-evolving nature of literature has deepened even further. Just as Yeats underwent many drafts, revisions, and rearrangements of his writing, so too did Thoreau. I have learned that such revisions oftentimes reflect the writers’ changing views on life. In editing their writing, a writer tries to more accurately capture and represent their views. In reading different variations of authors’ texts, it becomes evident that literary choices are very important in capturing, articulating, and conveying one’s intended message.

When an author gets older and gains more life experience, it is only natural that they grow not just as a person, but as a writer, too, in their abilities to better articulate what they once thought or felt. Over time, writers (like anyone, including me and my views on English) can also change their minds about a subject and therefore feel the need to change their writing on it. The human experience itself is fluid, as anyone working towards a growth mindset knows well. It takes courage to edit and re-publish one’s work, and it similarly takes courage to admit that one’s previous opinions/writings were not as accurate as they could be, and therefore justify a need for post-production edits. In this way, fluid text versions can be treated as a way of mapping an author’s growth as an individual over the course of their lifetime experiences.

It is also worth noting that, even if a text has remained relatively unrevised for a long period of time, readers’ interpretations of that text are still ever-changing. The future affects how people perceive the documented past. New literary and/or sociocultural theories lead to new ways of interpreting early English works. And because humanity evolves in these ways, so too do the artifacts that make up the humanities.

I now know that two of the most important parts of studying English literature–and studying historical documentation of the human experience in general–are: change and imperfection. The humanities (be it English texts, artistic works, etc.) tell a story of how human experience, and interpretation of past human experience, has developed and evolved over time. It is an unfinished, imperfect, and ever-changing story that is still being written.

In working with Voyant Tools, I cannot help but reflect on how machine reading can also make us better (or maybe not better, but different) writers. To start exploring how I feel about writing in conjunction with reading, I want to start with my personal experience using Voyant, separate from class. My favorite book is Moby Dick by Herman Melville, and a large part of why I like Moby Dick is Melville’s prose. So naturally, after seeing Voyant run through and categorize Walden in most used words, average sentence length, and so on, I wanted to see the same of Moby Dick. It gave me the same data as Walden and I stared at the output blankly for some time, thinking of how this could be useful. As I was looking back on the Hayles reading, I came across this quote where she says, “On the other hand, machine reading may reveal patterns overlooked in close reading” (20). Close reading allows a deeper view of the thematic elements at play within whatever we are reading, but machine reading could allow us a deeper view in the inner workings of the sentences that construct the aesthetic patina. This is where I see real affordance in machine reading’s contribution towards our ability to write differently. I can analyze Moby Dick using Voyant, find the words that are used most, and begin to use those same words in my writing, effectively starting to build up the same aesthetic mood Melville is constructing.

However, there are limits to this kind of use. First, Voyant does not have the kind of capabilities (or I don’t know how to use the program to its fullest extent) to enact the kind of immersion that I want. I cannot see how sentences are structured in intricate detail, how many clauses there are, how sentence length varies i.e. if long sentences are generally followed by short ones or if short/long sentences are used only in specific contexts following specific words. Moreover, there is a limitation in the programs ability to read how passive and active voice is deployed. Extending beyond technological limitations (or again, personal ones), this type of writing seems to me either for the student or the satirist. For the student, I think of the story told wherein Hunter S Thompson wrote out The Great Gatsby to learn what great writing feels like. Now, instead of having to merely type out a story, you could view the data from Voyant and imitate the style with your own story. It affords a level of creativity while still feeling like you are under the tutelage of a canonized writer. For the satirist (or postmodernist maybe), the tool affords a new depth to the writing of the people you want to satirize. But for someone who eventually wants to create a truly original work, the tools of Voyant will become less and less useful.

The last thing I want to touch on is about a website that imports some of the ideas that I have been tracking, and it is one that ‘reads’ your writing so that it may compare you to an author (for those interested, the website is iwl.me). The website also brings up Harold Bloom’s The Anxiety of Influence for me, in which his main theory is that for authors to rise above their influences, they must misread or misinterpret their predecessors. By using a website like iwl.me (which is right now, a poor iteration of what I would like), one could potentially track the aesthetic framework that they have drawn the most influence from. The potential writer could quickly pinpoint who they sound the most like, and purposefully subvert their own language, as well as their predecessor, to not have different ideas than their influences, but sound different as well.

Machine reading can not just help us understand texts better, but it can help us write better as well, not only by allowing us to run our favorite texts and the authors who influence us the most through text analysis tools so that we can see how they write and borrow the broad linguistic patterns we like. For tools that compare you to authors, and this use of text analysis tools would broadly not be for the student or satirist, we could find who we write like and subvert them by viewing how our writing relies on them. This may seem contradictory to my view of text analysis as edifying, but it is well known that we have to stand on the shoulders of giants first to create truly great works.

I feel as though I have always been drawn to the subject of English in school. I connected more with my English teachers than any others, even going out of my way to take 3 different classes with one of my favorites in high school. Although I didn’t decide English was what I wanted to major in until relatively late, the interest I’ve had in it has never floundered. However, throughout my academic career, there have been multiple times where I felt that I was only maintaining my interest rather than building it. I see English as a very multidimensional subject, which can be just as overwhelming as it is interesting. This semester will add to the many before that have given me a new dimension of the subject to consider in the future. I took this class because I knew I hadn’t taken a class like it before. Often when I take a new English class I find myself comparing it to my 11th grade AP literature course. It was challenging, but for good reason. I undoubtedly left that class with a completely reformed view on English. I’m not sure whether it was my teacher, the material he taught, or both, but my expectations were definitely set high.

A concept that has added a new dimension to my view of English from this semester in particular is that of recycled ideas. Similarly, I always find myself thinking about how much music is in the world and how so many songs sound alike because they’re all made of the same recycled notes. I never considered that when this concept is applied to English, it doesn’t really make sense. A quote from Mark Twain reads: “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations”. Aren’t the “new” and curious combinations creating something new? If not, would an idea involving a new and never before seen invention or concept be considered new in at least some way? I never even began to consider these things before and they are relevant to English in so many ways. The idea of recycled thoughts closely relates to the second thing that I now think about; the concept of bias being behind possibly everything and every idea. Even though there are no new ideas, who’s to say there aren’t new biases that can be applied to the ideas by every person who holds them. One of the most important things I’ve been taught while studying English is to be aware that everyone is biased and it sometimes will greatly influence what they say. This way of thinking reminds me of other humanities such as sociology. In a way, this class has further enforced the bond between the humanities in my mind.

Although I don’t expect to have an English reawakening like I did in 11th grade AP every time I take a new class, I do attempt to get something out of it that I can bring with me to the next. So far, there have been few English classes I’ve taken that haven’t given me new things to consider when studying English in the future.

I cannot claim that taking English 340, or “Digital Humanities,” had some profound impact on my life. That would be nonsense, and a very poor attempt at obsequiousness. That is the dream, yes, of teaching some course that truly changes the course of a student’s life? Or, at the very least, one hopes to touch them in some way, to change their worldview, to reach the very essence of their being. At least, that is a musing from a future teacher.

I could give tautologies about how every action causes change in us all, and they would certainly be true. Their level of usefulness is more dubious, but they would be accurate. It is true to say that we are the product of our every moment of being, and the experiences that lie therein. Certainly, humans do not change simply with a snap, with a large, notable action. Rather, it is all the tiny, fractured pieces that one must piece together to attempt to understand a human being, be that another or oneself. Unfortunately, humans are more like kaleidoscopes, beautiful in their individual parts and incomprehensible when trying to force their pieces together.

Perhaps that is what learning is, hm? Attempting to piece together shards of shattered glass. Sometimes one gets cut, and certainly the pieces are not all there, but finding how they fit together, that journey, is what one can hope to strive for in life.

Of course, I have a Camusian bent, and I recognise full well the impossibility of attempting to complete a puzzle with only a fraction of the pieces. It is that desire to put together the few clumps of interconnected pieces into a larger tapestry that creates the absurd. But Camus’ solution is to accept the absurd and carry on, and so we shall and so we must.

What is literature, then? It is the art of weaving, I would say. There is not enough thread to make a bolt of cloth, so first the writer must spin their own. Having spun the thread of their mind, they may weave the cloth. But weaving is not always a simple task. The difficulty, as it often is, is the quality of the loom. Is it a loom millennia old, or is it one powered and industrial? Or, rather, is the device modern? To say another way, must one tread new paths, or does one simply follow well-worn trails?

Back to the spinning. Thread comes not from ether, but is instead corporeal. So, how is more spun? Well, to spin thread, one needs material, be that silk or cotton or wool. Wool is the author’s trade, well grown by their minds’ sheep, so long as one is wise enough to shear. Wool can come from brilliant fantasies or from exotic travels or from extraordinary experiences. Though, sometimes, one best enjoys the wool obtained from the loons on the lake or the beans in the ground.

For some, that sheared wool becomes a nest for the creatures all around. This can fill one with the gossips and transience and impactful knowledge of society. Or, sometimes, the wool is best nested in by the woodchucks and the sparrows and the drumming of the rain. Being alone with thoughts leaves much time for shearing. And, certainly, the more one can shear, the more one can spin and the more nests can be made.

So, what did I learn in this class, hm? I think the coronavirus and Walden both granted me appreciation of the loons on the lake, the sparrows in the tree, the rain from above, and the peace that can bring.

Up until this semester, I held a close-minded disposition towards literature and the various products that are generated from it, especially written works. I used to regard literary works- copies of text printed and published made accessible to society- as mere inanimate objects, something hard-bound and concrete. To me, these were the finalized products in which their authors were certain, confident of their creation and their ‘final say.’ But, then I was introduced to a whole new perspective, completely the opposite of this previous mindset I had exhibited. I learned of the concept of fluidity and its relation to literature. The dictionary states that something ‘fluid’ is “changing readily; shifting; not fixed, stable, or rigid.” This concept, I learned, can certainly be applied to literature, and the process of publishing literary works. As a result, my previous self’s perception of literature and what goes into the process of creating the final version of a text completely transformed due to my enlightenment of fluidity. The renowned literary work Walden, written by Henry David Thoreau is a perfect representation of fluidity, and has helped influence my new perspective on literature.

Before I explain the concept of fluidity within Walden, it’s essential for me to provide some brief background information on the text and its author. Thoreau’s ambition in writing Walden was to provide a carefully chronicled account of his experience in living in a cabin he had built in the seclusion by Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts. The work itself reflects his transcendentalist outlook on life, his appreciation of simple living and nature, and the emphasis put on being self-reliant of oneself. Ultimately, Walden was a reflection of Thoreau himself and his personal growth and development during his time in seclusion by the pond. By reading his work, we are able to share in his personal findings, observations, and means of discovery throughout his journey. With this in mind, the concept of fluidity in relation to Walden makes itself present in Thoreau’s initial process of writing and publishing it which in turn, has helped inspire my new outlook on literature and the production of it.

It’s important to note that the writing process before the publishing of Walden included various revisions of its manuscript by Thoreau. Author Robert Sattelmeyer on his essay on “The Remaking of Walden” sheds light on the true extent of Thoreau’s writing process. In 1850, Thoreau had a manuscript on Walden, but it was only a form of its earliest stage in progress, not quite entirely reflecting his experiences at the pond. He later added partial revisions to this version, but didn’t revise it as a whole until 1852. By the time the final draft was published in 1854, it had undergone seven manuscript drafts, mainly partial and incomplete (Sattelmeyer 58). The revisions themselves ranged from something as simple as the alteration of single words and the deletion of sentences to something substantial, such as the introduction of new passages and chapters (Sattelmeyer 59). Although the final version was printed and published, Sattelmeyer encourages readers not to regard it as “fixed,” or concrete, because Thoreau and his work shared a correlation with each other. As Thoreau developed, so did his writing (Sattelmeyer 75). In this case, Walden resembles a true fluid text, in which Thoreau was consistently molding and shaping it into what it stands as its true form today. Walden in its fluid text edition is even open to the public now where readers are able to analyze and compare the changes and modifications Thoreau made to his work.

The concept of fluidity in connection with Thoreau’s writing process of Walden encouraged me to regard literature and its products in a new light. Fluidity is common in the everyday world; in fact, it exists everywhere in our daily lives. Fluidity in itself is a discipline, many of us have to learn not to be so rigid, be accepting of change, and be capable of dealing with the many obstacles that we encounter on a daily basis that frequently throw us off from leading “stable” lives. Literature, too, is reflective of this, it’s reflective of us as people. In this sense, literary works hold a strong resemblance to the creation of art, and ultimately, it is a type of art. Although not translated in paint and brush, it expresses the author’s wishes, their feelings, observations, and experiences, just like Walden. Due to my newfound perspective of a literary work as something not rigid and fixed, but as an evolutionary process, I’ve found a deeper appreciation for literature and the process of publishing it. The time that is required to write something that is as extensive as Walden requires trial and error. Not only that, but Thoreau’s mind was fluid in itself, constantly adapting, shifting, evolving, and finding new outlooks and perspectives that he attempted to transfer onto paper. Consequently, this new outlook has taught me to embrace fluidity in my life, rather than try and suppress it, because it was seven partially written and revised manuscripts that resulted in one of Thoreau’s greatest successes.

I’m bad at math. A lot of people are bad at math, and there are lots of reasons for that, but as an English educator I want to focus on one reason, literacy. People tend to think of the English discipline when they hear the word literacy, but there are actually many more types of literacy than people realize. Math has a literacy to it. You have to be able to understand the deeper meaning that certain sets of symbols have when placed together in order to decipher the code. I’m talking about solving an equation, but I may as well be talking about reading a complex story or poem. I’m literate enough in math to solve basic equations, but it takes a lot of mental gymnastics. I have to look up the order of operation, use a calculator, and probably phone a friend. It isn’t second nature to me because I’ve never been interested in math, so I never bothered to become really fluent in math. However, I can write ten pages analyzing a single poem just for fun. I’m the annoying English major who will obsess over why a green light is green and what that means. I understand the way the authors use motifs through their writing because I was interested in English enough to become very proficient at the skills involved in the discipline. Beyond being literate enough to understand the symbols involved with math or English, there’s also the jargon involved with those and other disciplines. It helps to have the right vocabulary to talk about a discipline. Where I’m leading this is in the title, there is a literacy to coding too. 

This is something that I knew on a surface level before we had to go home. It was while we were getting into the thick of Git Bash that I began to understand that coding in a type of literacy. My journals that are full of commands are just vocabulary lists. That made the work we were doing in class a lot less daunting. I had a real handle on things, but then we were in the middle of class when we found out that we were coming back after spring break. Starting online classes took a huge toll on me because I love learning above everything else. I want to be an educator because I’m a life-long learner. Not having classes anymore hurt, especially in this class because I didn’t feel like I had learned a lot yet. I took this class because I knew there was so much I had to learn in it. When I decided to take this class, I had several expectations. I was excited to learn more about English in the digital age because I want to be able to assure my future students that English is still useful and worth learning more about. My main expectation was to be learning about the role English takes in the technology age. I thought we would be discussing how English as a discipline needs to react to technology in order to stay relevant, current, and updated. Needless to say, it was quite the shock to find out that no one could define digital humanities, and I’m still waiting on an answer to the question, what is digital humanities? I think that the class as a whole weren’t quite literate in code enough to keep up with what we were supposed to be getting done. That’s no one’s fault, but then on top of us being behind, COVID 19 hit. Because we weren’t having synchronous classes anymore, I decided to do my own research. I realized that I knew very little about coding save for what we did in class, but from the little I knew, I could tell that coding is just another type of literacy. There are symbols, orders of operation,  I am far from fluent in any type of code, but I would say that I am really good at understanding poetry which has a ton of symbols as well. In order to approach digital humanities from a lens I might be able to understand, I combined coding and poetry. 

It turns out that I’m not the first person to think of this. There are whole books of code poetry. I read several poems from the book Code Poetry: Poems Written in Programming Languages, and I did not understand them at all at first! It turns out that there are poems in every type of programming language, not just markdown. I had to do a lot of research for every poem I read. I combined my ability to analyze poetry with the little knowledge I had and was gaining about coding, and it was incredibly challenging and fun. One some level I knew that programming languages are languages, but I never thought of them as languages that could tell stories and convey deeper meanings. It showed me that code and English can not only coexist but cooperate with one another. There is room for the literacy of coding in the English discipline, and when the two work together, the result is complex, creative, and keeping English current in the digital age.

The massive wave of technological advancement within the last two decades has spurred more than just shifts in culture and social dynamics. The entirety of the modern world (more specifically, America, but generally and first world country will do) has morphed into a society that’s nearly unrecognizable from that of the beginning of the previous century. In 1920, the radio had just been invented. Now, 100 years later, students are finding the connections between literature and technology, and how both have an immense impact on our culture, our future, and the way we think. 

If I’m being totally honest, the premise of this class confused me just a bit. In registration and the first couple of weeks of classes, I wondered what exactly was the purpose of this class. Ask me two months ago, and I would have said I’m in this class to learn about technology and literature, and how they’re related to the world we live in. While this isn’t incorrect, I realize now that there’s an ulterior motive – to change the way we, as students in this ever-changing society, think. Coming into this class as a second-semester freshman, I still hadn’t really learned just how different college English classes are from that of the ones I took in high school. In my secondary education years, English class went a little like this: read some state-mandated classic novel, analyze the dickens out of it for two and a half months, and then write an essay on it, usually some form of rhetoric analysis. Maybe there would be a multiple-choice unit, filled with generic strategies on how to pass the state testing like the Regents exam, or get a 5 on the AP. Not entirely sure why, but everything I knew led me to believe that college is just going to be a more advanced version of this – reading harder books, and more in-depth and complex essay prompts. Nothing and no one told me otherwise. 

Needless to say, this semester has been a whirlwind for me. While my view on English as a discipline changed drastically over the course of the part of the semester that we had on campus, I now feel that it’s almost entirely changed since being home. Having to switch to online learning forced me to read and think in ways I hadn’t before. All my life, I have been a hands-on learner. The kind of person that needs to have a physical copy of the text in order to fully process, read, and analyze it. I prefer in-class discussions because it allows us to talk about our ideas and converse with each other informally.  Reading and discussing on a screen just doesn’t do it for me, however, that only puts me at a disadvantage in the current situation. 

Over the past couple of days I’ve been rereading certain chapters of Walden, and I notice that he consistently forces the reader to be self-aware of their consciousness, and of their thoughts and body. He wants us, as the readers, to not lose ourselves in everyday life, but rather go through life conscious of our choices and ability to affect others. Since quarantine has started, I’ve begun locking myself in my bedroom, not coming out for hours on end because I’m studying or doing homework. I barely talk to my siblings and only really stop to eat or dawdle. But in reading Walden, I realized that it’s so easy to lose yourself in front of a computer screen, and come out dazed, forgetting who and where you are. 

Taking this English class has more than changed my view of English as a discipline, but it’s changed my view on everyday life. I now walk through my house aware of every step I am taking, and everything I say. I sat down to reread one of my favorite fantasy novels the other night, and I was constantly reminded of Walden and Thoreau’s plea to have us find meaning in everything. In rereading that novel, I came out with an entirely different point of view on the characters and their actions – they are just as unselfaware as I was. 

Before this class, I had an immature and primitive view of English. The object was to read books, analyze, and write essays. What I didn’t realize, however, is just how immensely English can change the way you think – you don’t need a philosophy class for that.

When I first saw this question, I was having a bit of trouble understanding exactly what was being asked. After a long few minutes of really thinking to myself, I think in simpler terms, this question is asking me to think about whether or not the digital aspect of this class had an effect on the way that I read and understand literature. 

When I first decided to take on this class and saw that it was called “Literature in the Digital Age,” I thought we were just going to be discussing how literature has now changed in this time of advanced technology. Although this was partially correct for some of our assignments, I could not have been more wrong when we were studying Walden, the real heart of the class in my opinion. 

Throughout pretty much the entirety of the course, we were asked to read a select chapter or essays from Henry David Thoreau’s book Walden. He talks about living the simple life in the woods. How did this change my idea of studying literature? Well, the whole entire book was online, not in paper form. To add to this online experience, classmates comments could be seen throughout the “book” as you were reading the assigned section. 

Being a person who went to a high school where the curriculum was pretty much based around technology, this whole idea of doing stuff online was not a shock to me. However, we always read our books the traditional way. So reading Walden in a non tangible form was definitely an odd experience for me. The thing that really threw me off was the comments my classmates would make throughout the book. The way I usually read is that I do not like to get any outside ideas or opinions before forming my own. Reading other’s comments while I was reading the online text was distracting to me. I basically had to come up with a new way of reading, which for some might be cool but for me, I get the most out of reading when it is uninterrupted and while I value my classmate’s ideas, it would have been better for me if they were not there while I was reading. (Yes I know you can hide them while reading, but it still alerts you to their existence and I was tempted to look anyway). 

Also, although we had some discussion in class about the book, most of the conversations took place online prior to class. It made me realize something about myself. I enjoy in person discussion so much more than online discussion. To me, when a person speaks what they feel instead of writing it, it has more impact when engaging in a discussion or a debate. I really enjoy the natural flow of a conversation as opposed to the robotic way we all write. 

Let me make this very clear, I am not trashing the convenience and luxury of doing things online. Look at what’s happening in the world right now. The fact that we are able to finish the semester online is remarkable and I am grateful for having the ability to complete my studies and not fall behind. In my opinion though, some things should be left to be done in person. 

So, how has this class changed my view of studying literature? It made me realize how much I love the feel of turning the page of a book, and the voices of others around me.