“Archives, Advocacy and Change” at the New York Academy of Medicine

By theo_walther

“The archivist, even more than the historian and the political scientist, tends to be scrupulous about his neutrality, and to see his job as a technical job, free from the nasty world of political interest: a job of collecting, sorting, preserving, making available, the records of the society. But I will stick by what I have said about other scholars, and argue that the archivist, in subtle ways, tends to perpetuate the political and economic status quo simply by going about his ordinary business. His supposed neutrality is, in other words, a fake.”[1]

It was with this quote from historian Howard Zinn that Anne Garner, Curator of Rare Books and Manuscripts in the Library at the New York Academy of Medicine began the recent panel discussion there entitled “Archives, Advocacy and Change: Tales from Four New York City Collections.”

The discussion featured four panelists: Jenna Freedman, founder, curator, and cataloger of the Barnard Zine Library; Steven Fullwood, founder of the “In the Life Archive,” an initiative to collect, preserve, catalog, and make available materials produced by and about LGBTQ people of African descent at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York Public Library; Timothy Johnson, director of New York University’s Tamiment Library and Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives, as well as co-director of Tamiment’s Center for the United States and the Cold War; and Rich Wandel, Center Archivist and Historian at The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center National History Archive.

While the first three panelists provided brief presentations on the histories of their collections, the materials they contain, and their individual collection practices, surprisingly, it wasn’t until the final panelist, Rich Wandel, that someone spoke directly to Zinn’s criticism of archivists. And Wandel wasted no time, starting off by declaring that “the archival profession is inherently an activist profession.” It was only after this declaration that the discussion of the archives as a location for advocacy and change (reflected in the title of the program and presumably the reason for Garner’s provocative quotation of Zinn) began in earnest.

However, Zinn’s characterization of the supposed neutrality of archivists as “fake” was in no way a dismissal of the archivist. Rather it was an attempt to convince the archivist of their power, a power Joan M. Schwartz and Terry Cook describe in their article “Archives, Records, and Power: The Making of Modern Memory” as the power “to shape our notions of history, identity, and memory.”[2] Indeed, Zinn went on to urge archivists to use that power “to compile a whole new world of documentary material, about the lives, desires, needs, of ordinary people.” Doing so would ensure “that the condition, the grievances, the will of the underclasses become a force in the nation.”[3] It is therefore in the material they choose to collect, highlight, and disseminate that these four panelists exert their power as archivists.

As a gay man in New York City involved in the gay rights movement since the first Christopher Street Liberation Day March in June 1970, Wandel said it’s often easy to take for granted and forget just how far the LGBTQ movement has come. At the same time, he said it’s also easy to forget how there are still many places in America where LGBTQ youth are repeatedly told by their communities and even their families that they’re different, that there’s something wrong or even immoral about them. The archives are important to the entire LGBTQ community, but they are especially important to these LGBTQ youth. It lets them know they’re not alone, not the only ones who feel as they do, and most importantly, it “lets them know they’re worth something.”

Just as Emily Drabinski stressed the importance of librarians being “ethically and politically engaged on behalf of marginal knowledge formations and identities who quite reasonably expect to be able to locate themselves in the library”[4] with regard to classification and cataloging, Wandel stressed the importance of the archives as a way for people, especially LGBTQ people, to “find themselves in history.” In this case, it’s not only important that the material is archived for history, but that it’s made available to the LGBTQ community and the public.

Through the lens of Wandel’s passionate advocacy of the archivist as an activist, it was possible to go back to the presentations of the first three panelists and see where that activism was present, even if it wasn’t at first readily apparent. Steven Fullwood grew up in Toledo, Ohio as one of those LGBTQ youth Wandel described; being told that he was different (as both gay and black), that there was something wrong with him, and feeling he was the only one who felt as he did. He eventually made his way to New York and a job at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture at the New York Public Library in 1998. Having noticed a lack of materials being collected about black gays and lesbians, Fullwood founded the “In the Life Archive” in 1999 at Schomburg. It was the first archive of its kind and later expanded to include materials by and about all LGBTQ people of African descent. As it stands, it is the largest black LGBTQ archive at a public institution.

While Schwartz and Cook mention the “variety of subaltern groups desiring to construct a viable, authentic, and cohesive identity,” Fullwood spoke about his initial difficulties in convincing people to donate their materials to the “In the Life Archive.”[5] He said he was often met with surprise (“Why would you even want that?”) as people didn’t realize that what they had was both important and historic. However, as Fullwood became increasingly active and well known within the black LGBTQ community in Harlem, he was able to develop personal relationships with individuals and groups, eventually serving as a kind of “conduit” for the community into the archives. Those who were initially surprised or even suspicious have now seen their identity “confirmed and justified as historical documents validate with all their authority as ‘evidence’ the identity stories so built.”[6]

Jenna Freedman also spoke to involving the community in developing the archives but from a slightly different perspective than that of Steven Fullwood. Although Freedman was a zinester (a person who creates zines, or self-published works of appropriated texts and images reproduced by photocopier and originating in the do-it-yourself ethos of the punk rock subculture) before arriving at the Barnard College Library, she “surveyed” the Barnard community in an attempt to discover what they felt they needed in order to “serve the community.” The result of this survey was the creation of a library focused on zines produced by cis- and transgender women (Barnard admitted transgender women for the first time in 2015), with an emphasis on those created by women of color.

However, Friedman quickly found herself running afoul of what Schwartz and Cook describe as one of the sources of “power over the documentary record, and by extension over the collective memory of marginalized members of society.” That is the institution and by extension “the ways in which institutional resources are allotted.”[7] As zines often contain explicit or sexual material, Freedman often found her Zine Library questioned or even threatened by the administration of the college. However, she emphasized that it was essential for her to privilege the subject and not what was considered acceptable, either socially or to the institution. Fortunately, despite some early conflicts, Freedman and the Zine Library have not only survived but grown into a collection of over 7,000 zines.

At first, Timothy Johnson seemed a bit of an outlier in this particular panel discussion as the Tamiment Library doesn’t have any obvious connections to groups marginalized based on sexual orientation. However, the Tamiment and Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives give voice to those marginalized due to their involvement in radical politics, labor movements, civil rights, and civil liberties.

It was in talking about the Tamiment’s collection of materials related to the Occupy Wall Street movement that Johnson provided a candid example of the power of the archivist. The Tamiment currently houses the largest collection of such material in the world; over 80 linear feet worth. It is a result of a serendipitous situation in which two library science students working at the Tamiment and involved in the protests realized the opportunity as well as the need to collect and preserve as much material as possible. When Anne Garner asked Johnson whether the Tamiment had also collected material from Chase Bank to present the opposing view to the Occupy movement, Johnson responded that the Tamiment’s mission is to give ay voice to the oppressed, not the ones doing the oppressing. With his brief rejoinder, Johnson reminded the audience of the archives origin as being “established by the powerful to protect or enhance their position in society” and that the goal of the activist archivist goal is to subvert that power.[8]

While Schwartz and Cook echo Howard Zinn’s criticism of archivists in citing the “professional myth of impartiality, neutrality, and objectivity,” they also echo Zinn’s challenge in stating that “the point is for archivists to (re)search thoroughly for the missing voices…so that archives can acquire and reflect multiple voices, and not, by default, only the voices of the powerful.”[9] If Zinn, Schwartz, and Cook were present at the recent panel discussion at the New York Academy of Medicine, I think they would find that both their criticisms of and challenges to archivists continue to be taken seriously.

 

[1] Zinn, Howard. “Secrecy, Archives, and the Public Interest.” The Midwestern Archivist 2, no. 2 (1977): 14-26. Accessed November 3, 2016. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41101382.

[2] Schwartz, Joan M., and Terry Cook. “Archives, Records, and Power: The Making of Modern Memory.” Archival Science 2, no. 1 (March 2002): 1-19.

[3] Zinn, Howard. “Secrecy, Archives, and the Public Interest.” The Midwestern Archivist 2, no. 2 (1977): 14-26. Accessed November 3, 2016. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41101382.

[4] Drabinski, Emily. “Queering the Catalog: Queer Theory and the Politics of Correction.” The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy 83, no. 2 (April 2013): 94-111. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/669547.

[5] Schwartz, Joan M., and Terry Cook. “Archives, Records, and Power: The Making of Modern Memory.” Archival Science 2, no. 1 (March 2002): 1-19.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid.

Preservation vs. Access at the NYPL

By theo_walther

In her article “W(H)ITHER Preservation?,” Michele Valerie Cloonan states that “several major libraries have recently dismantled their preservation programs and replaced them with digital initiative departments.”[1] She characterizes this as “shortsighted, narrow-minded, and, ultimately, counterproductive.”[2] While the Conservation Lab at the New York Public Library might not be as large or well-funded as it once was, as a member of the Prints & Photographs departments, I can attest to the crucial role they play. We work in close collaboration with their staff, particularly the specialized conservators for both prints and photographs, preparing for both in-house and external loan exhibitions, undertaking conservation as needed, and preserving our collections as a whole.

That said, while the library hasn’t dismantled its preservation program, the digital initiatives Cloonan mentions are among the areas of the library that have seen the most growth in my almost seven years at the library. Some of the most visible initiatives are products of the interdisciplinary NYPL Labs. Map Warper and Surveyor allow the public to align historical maps (Map Warper) and photographs (Surveyor) to the digital maps of today.[3] Emigrant City, Building Inspector, and What’s on the Menu?, allow the public to aid the library in transcribing 19th and 20th-century bank records, New York City insurance atlases, and restaurant menus, respectively.[4] Other notable initiatives include the NYPL Digital Collections, a database of objects digitized from the library’s collections, and individual department catalogs, including Manuscripts & Archives and Prints & Photographs. However, no matter what initiative it’s used for, whether it’s a periodical, book, manuscript, map, piece of ephemera, print, or photograph, if an object from the library’s collection is photographed and digitized, it’s done by the Digital Imaging Unit (DIU). As such, the DIU is the sine qua non of all digital initiatives at the NYPL.

To see exactly how the physical is converted to the digital and how the library’s digital initiatives are being realized, I took a 15-minute subway ride from the main Stephen A. Schwarzman Building (SASB) at Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street to the Library Services Center (LSC) in Long Island City, Queens. The DIU was formerly located on the ground floor of SASB and still maintains a single camera set-up there to digitize objects that are often too fragile or valuable to make the trip to Queens. However, in 2010 the DIU, along with Conservation, Special Formats Processing, Exhibitions, and several other departments relocated to a former warehouse building in Long Island City, extensively renovated into a state-of-the-art library preservation and distribution facility.[5]

From the outside, the three-story LSC maintains its appearance as a nondescript, former warehouse. However, immediately upon entering, it’s readily apparent how much time, effort, and money was put into making it the most advanced facility possible. It was there I met with Peter Riesett, Head Photographer at the DIU. We proceeded to the second floor of the building where the DIU is located. Upon entering the studio, one first sees a large, light gray room with expansive staging tables along the right side of the room, staff offices along the left, and a currently unused book copy stand in the back. It was in this room I met several of the ten people who staff the DIU, eight of whom are photographers.

In an adjacent dark gray space are six digital capture stations. Each station is partitioned by walls on the left and right with a sliding black curtain in the back. Four of the six set-ups have a copy stand with a 30 x 40-inch table and a motorized column holding a medium format camera with a digital back overhead. There is also a similar set-up with a much larger table to allow for the photography of oversized objects. The last set-up features a book scanner system with a book cradle and two cameras mounted opposite each other at an angle. All of the digital capture stations have strobe lighting mounted on stands with soft boxes to diffuse them, as well as standing desks with Mac Pro tower computers to process the images captured. While the equipment seems brand-new, Riesett informs me that they recently received approval of a city capital planning allocation to upgrade all of the cameras to 100-megapixel digital backs and the computers to the latest Mac Pro model.

As digital preservation and initiatives are relatively new to libraries, often resulting in regularly changing criteria and policies of which objects from the library’s collection should be selected for digitization and why, Riesett points to three relatively consistent circumstances in which objects are digitized at the DIU. The first is grant funded projects. Second are objects and collections from the library’s various departments, selected by department curators in collaboration with the Digital Oversight Committee. Last is the digitization of objects to be displayed in exhibitions at the research libraries. Although each of these situations is unique, they all tend to share the initial requirements of funding, complete object metadata, and consideration of copyright issues.

Riesett mentions two current projects as examples of grant funded projects at the library, the first circumstance in which objects are digitized at the DIU. “Mapping the Nation, 1565-1899” is a project of the Lionel Pincus & Princess Firyal Map Division. With a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities, they will catalog, conserve, and digitize roughly 4,000 maps from the 16th to the 19th century documenting the United States from the national level all the way down to counties, towns, and localities.[6] The Manuscripts & Archives Division received a grant from the Polonsky Foundation to digitize and make accessible 50,000 pages documenting life in the early United States, including papers from many of the Founding Fathers.[7] Riesett mentions that the grant from the Polonsky Foundation was sizeable enough to allow them to hire a photographer dedicated to working on just the one project.

In the second circumstance in which objects are digitized, library departments and curators are asked to come up with groups of objects for digitization in collaboration with the Digital Oversight Committee. Again, this is primarily done to provide the public access to objects and collections from the library. However, the departments themselves often see this as an opportunity to digitally preserve objects in their collections, for which there wouldn’t otherwise be funding. In the Prints Department, we recently used just such an opportunity to begin digitizing our collections of 15th and 16th century German and Italian old master prints. In the Photography Department, we recently digitized a collection of nearly 9,300 negatives by the photographer Morris Huberland.

It’s a situation similar to what occurred at the Library of Congress during the National Digital Library Initiative of the late 90s as described by Dalbello in her article “Digital Cultural Heritage: Concepts, Projects, and Emerging Constructions of Heritage.” The Manuscripts Division was one of three departments upon which the project primarily drew. Knowing their collection was heavily used by researchers, the curators “wanted to preserve it for the future.”[8] As digitized items would be served before any original objects, the project provided researchers with access to the collection, while allowing curators to minimize further risk to the collection.[9]

The last circumstance Riesett describes in which objects are regularly digitized at the DIU is in preparation for in-house exhibitions. These exhibitions take place at the research libraries of the NYPL, including SASB, the Library for Performing Arts, and the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. Although primarily done for the purpose of access, curators and librarians also see this as another way to digitally preserve objects in their collections. In the Prints Department, the digitization of objects bound for exhibition has allowed us to preserve and provide access to a significant portion of prints by Henri Guerard, J.M.W. Turner, and Mary Cassatt from the Samuel Putnam Avery Collection. In the Photography Department, the exhibition Public Eye: 175 Years of Sharing Photography allowed us to preserve and provide access to over 150 photographs from 1849 to the present day.

On the subway ride back from the DIU, I had a chance to reflect on the question of preservation vs. access at the NYPL. While it must be acknowledged that digital initiatives currently receive more resources and enthusiasm than preservation at the NYPL, fortunately, the library hasn’t abandoned preservation, either. The situation instead seems closer to Paul Conway’s proposed “bridge” between traditional and digital preservation, as described by Cloonan. Conway lists three “distinct but not mutually exclusive applications of digital technology: protect originals, represent originals, and transcend originals.”[10] Rather than a decision of one or the other, Conway’s “bridge” appealingly takes into consideration both the requirements of preservationists and “the purposes that digital technologies may serve for end users.”[11]

 

[1] Michèle Valerie Cloonan. “W(H)ITHER Preservation?” The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy 71, no. 2 (2001): 231-42. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4309507.

[2] Ibid.

[3] “NYPL Labs.” The New York Public Library. Accessed October 11, 2016. https://www.nypl.org/collections/labs.

[4] Ibid.

[5] “New York Public Library’s New Library Services Center Features World’s Largest Automated Sorter of Library Materials.” The New York Public Library. April 22, 2010. Accessed October 11, 2016. https://www.nypl.org/press/press-release/2010/04/22/new-york-public-librarys-new-library-services-center-features-worlds-.

[6] NEH Grant Details: Mapping the Nation, 1565-1899. Accessed October 11, 2016. https://securegrants.neh.gov/PublicQuery/main.aspx?f=1&gn=PW-228237-15.

[7] “The New York Public Library Receives Grant To Digitize 50,000 Pages of Historic Early American Manuscript Material For Public Use.” January 21, 2015. Accessed October 11, 2016. https://www.nypl.org/press/press-release/new-york-public-library-receives-grant-digitize-50000-pages-historic-early.

[8] Dalbello, Marija. (2009) “Digital Cultural Heritage: Concepts, Projects, and Emerging Constructions of Heritage.” Proceedings in the Libraries in the Digital Age (LIDA) conference, 25-30 May, 2009.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Michèle Valerie Cloonan. “W(H)ITHER Preservation?” The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy 71, no. 2 (2001): 231-42. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4309507.

[11] Ibid.

A Place for Google Books in Critical Information Studies?

By theo_walther

Having worked at the New York Public Library since January 2010, I was only around to see the end of the library’s active partnership with Google on their ambitious Books project. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to recount the entire history and controversy surrounding the Google Books project, from its informal beginnings in 2002 to today. However, I will try to place the project and the NYPL’s participation in context, but more importantly consider whether such a project could be a beneficial tool for use in Siva Vaidhyanathan’s concept of Critical Information Studies, as well as whether it would raise his concerns about copyright issues.

Google Books began with the idea of doing nothing less than scanning all of the world’s books and making them available and searchable online. Work on the project began in secret in 2002. A small group visited some of the more notable, existing digitization projects, including the Library of Congress’ American Memory Project, Project Gutenberg, and the Universal Library at Carnegie Mellon University, to see how they worked and the challenges they faced.[1] Google co-founder Larry Page also reached out to his alma mater, the University of Michigan, site of digitization projects such as JSTOR. When told it would take an estimated 1,000 years to digitize the university library’s seven million volumes, Page said he believed “Google can help make it happen in six.”[2]

It wasn’t until December 2004 that the NYPL became involved with the Books project as an initial partner in what was then known as the Google Print for Libraries project. The Print for Libraries project was the next big step in the Books project, attempting to scan and make searchable the collections of several major research libraries, including Oxford, Harvard, the University of Michigan, and Stanford.[3]

However, it might have been the announcement of this next big step that led to the controversy and lawsuits that would mire the project for years to come. While the agreements Google made with the research libraries would only allow it to “publish the full text of only those library books old enough to no longer be under copyright,” it also stated that for copyrighted works, ”Google would scan in the entire text, but make only short excerpts available online.”[4] Even if they were only making short excerpts available online, though, the fact that Google was scanning entire texts of copyrighted work without first obtaining the permission of the author or copyright holder led to lawsuits. The most notable of these lawsuits were the ones filed on behalf of authors by the Authors Guild[5] and on behalf of publishing companies by a group consisting of McGraw-Hill, Pearson Education, Penguin Group, Simon & Schuster and John Wiley & Sons.[6]

What, then, would Vaidhyanathan make of the Google Books project, particularly as it relates to his concept of Critical Information Studies (CIS), as well as his concerns about copyright? Just as it would be difficult, if not impossible, to recount the entire history and controversy surrounding the Books project, it would be just as difficult, if not impossible to include Vaidhyanathan’s possible reaction to each point of history and controversy. Instead, I will try to imagine Vaidhyanathan’s opinion of the Books project around the time of the NYPL’s initial involvement and ensuing lawsuits.

On the surface, a project to scan all of the world’s books and make them available and searchable online would be a tremendous tool related to the first field of CIS as described by Vaidhyanathan in his article “Critical Information Studies: A Bibliographic Manifesto.” Vaidhyanathan believes that people should have “the abilities and liberties to use, revise, criticize, and manipulate cultural texts, images, ideas, and information.”[7] Although not a complete fulfillment, Google Books would certainly have allowed people to use and criticize cultural texts in previously unimaginable ways and scale.

However, in a June 23, 2006 conference hosted by the Library and Information Technology Association entitled “Contracting for Content in a Digital World,” then Andrew W. Mellon Director and Chief Executive of the Research Libraries at the NYPL David Ferriero described two troubling anecdotes that seem antithetical to the second field of CIS, quickly ending any possible embrace of Google Books by Vaidhyanathan. Ferriero described Google as “very private about their scanning operations; we’re not allowed to take pictures; they developed their own equipment, their own software for the OCR, etc.”[8] Such a secretive, proprietary process to digitize the books seems at odds with Vaidhyanathan’s support of open source software as a way to “facilitate access to and use of scholarship and information.”[9]

More damning, however, is Ferriero’s explanation that “according to the terms of the agreement, the data cannot be crawled or harvested by any other search engine; no downloading or redistribution is allowed.”[10] While he did note that “the partners and a wider community of research libraries can share the content,” it still goes against not only Vaidhyanathan’s previously mentioned support of open source software but, more importantly, the second field of CIS.[11] Vaidhyanathan believes that users should have the “rights and abilities…to alter the means and techniques through which cultural texts and information are rendered, displayed, and distributed.”[12] With Google limiting access to their search engine and prohibiting downloading or redistribution, the Books project fails to be an appropriate tool for use in Vaidhyanathan’s CIS.

But what about the issues of copyright raised in the lawsuits filed against Google by groups representing authors and publishers? Vaidhyanathan spends time in his article describing everything from the history of copyright in Europe and the US, famous writers’ interest in copyright, theoretical concepts of copyright, to more recent, controversial copyright laws and cases. Despite that, it doesn’t seem that Vaidhyanathan would have as much of an issue with Google Books, at least regarding the copyrights of authors and publishers. It’s not that he wouldn’t want authors to be fairly compensated for or have no control over their work. But in his commitment to the dynamic, interdisciplinary nature of CIS, Vaidhyanathan exhorts that “every scholar committed to CIS should insist on retaining some of her or his rights to publications and making them available as widely and cheaply as possible.”[13]

Where the question of copyright and the Google Books project might become more concerning for Vaidhyanathan is what Tim Wu described in his 2016 The New Yorker article as a possible “monopoly in online, out-of-print books.”[14] To that I would add that through their partnership with many of the world’s leading research libraries, Google would have access to books that, while they may no longer be under copyright, are rare or difficult enough to access that Google would have an effective monopoly on them as well. Combined with their above described walled garden approach of access to information and it would almost give Google an implicit copyright and ability to make money on any out-of-print or rare out-of-copyright books they can scan.

A plan to scan all of the world’s books and make them available and searchable online at first seems like it would be an ideal tool for the scholarly analysis and debate of such dynamic, interdisciplinary fields as those found in Critical Information Studies. However, the restrictions of access placed on the project by Google itself are antithetical to those fields of study, as well as the abuse of copyright with which CIS often concerns itself.

[1] “Google Books History.” Accessed September 9, 2016. https://books.google.com/googlebooks/about/history.html.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Markoff, John, and Edward Wyatt. “Google Is Adding Major Libraries to Its Database.” New York Times, December 14, 2004. Accessed September 9, 2016. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/14/technology/google-is-adding-major-libraries-to-its-database.html.

[4] Ibid.

[5] “Authors Guild Sues Google, Citing “Massive Copyright Infringement”.” The Authors Guild. September 20, 2005. Accessed September 9, 2016. https://www.authorsguild.org/industry-advocacy/authors-guild-sues-google-citing-massive-copyright-infringement.

[6] Wyatt, Edward. “Arts, Briefly; Major Publishers Sue Google.” October 20, 2005. Accessed September 9, 2016. http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C02E4DA123FF933A15753C1A9639C8B63.

[7] Vaidhyanathan, Siva. “Critical Information Studies: A Bibliographic Manifesto.” Cultural Studies 20, nos. 2-3 (March/May 2006): 292-315. http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals.

[8] Stuivenga, Will. “Contracting for Content in a Digital World.” LITA Blog. July 11, 2006. Accessed September 9, 2016. http://litablog.org/2006/07/lita-preconference-contracting-for-content-in-a-digital-world.

[9] Vaidhyanathan, Siva. “Critical Information Studies: A Bibliographic Manifesto.” Cultural Studies 20, nos. 2-3 (March/May 2006): 292-315. http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals.

[10] Stuivenga, Will. “Contracting for Content in a Digital World.” LITA Blog. July 11, 2006. Accessed September 9, 2016. http://litablog.org/2006/07/lita-preconference-contracting-for-content-in-a-digital-world.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Vaidhyanathan, Siva. “Critical Information Studies: A Bibliographic Manifesto.” Cultural Studies 20, nos. 2-3 (March/May 2006): 292-315. http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Wu, Tim. “What Ever Happened to Google Books?” The New Yorker. September 11, 2015. Accessed September 9, 2016. http://www.newyorker.com/business/currency/what-ever-happened-to-google-books.

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