IHT: ‘Behind Facebook’s success: It takes a village’
March 28, 2009
Ever wonder why it’s so satisfying knowing a little about what is happening to everyone in your Facebook network, and, in the case of Twitter, knowing what is happening to people you barely know? Here is an interesting reflection on the subject
Behind Facebook’s success: It takes a village
By Anand Giridharadas, posted March 26th 2009
Twitter and Facebook are, OMG, so last millennium.
Or so it seems as I look out through my window in the forested Indian village where I am living, one of those places that the future has yet to invade.
A row of modest houses faces me. All day long, as I write, their inhabitants talk. And I have discovered through their talk that the age-old sociability of the village — ambient sociability, one might call it — harbors a strange likeness to the social-networking culture we think to be so new.
They don’t do one-on-one conversation here. They broadcast. If you have something to say, yell. Bring water! Go to school! Why did you tell her that thing? The people do not limit their talk to their own homes. Their scolds and praise and commands are for the village.
Privacy means little. Their doors are scraps of fabric. People come and go; it is hard to say who owns which house. Committing adultery or defaulting on a loan would be social suicide: everyone would know. A bargain has been made: There is more to gain from being in the network than from anonymity.
They stand in a stream of soothingly mindless hubbub. They hear opinions even when they do not ask, receive advice they do not need, get a little love from everyone and a lot from no one. Village sociability is not about sharing feelings. It doesn’t dwell on you. It asks for little. It just buzzes.
And what do the Internet’s social networks offer if not this village buzz? You build networks wider than your circle of close friends, and immediately you, too, stand in Hubbub Creek.
One friend “has been caring for an indescribably adorable baby bunny,” your Facebook news bulletin tells you. Another is “leaving for 10 days of backpacking!” Another’s iPhone has survived a “swim.” Once they are in your network, you are compelled, as in the village, to know their business. It’s strangely nice.
This is not about deep bonding. For that, stick to e-mail, the phone and — remember it? — human interaction. Social networks offer only ambient love. They maintain not your 10 key relationships, but your hundred semi-key mini-relationships. They are not about understanding or soul-baring, but about being simply, ambiently present — about knowing as soon as a relationship has ended, as they do in a village, even if you never learn why.
Read the rest of this article here.
IHT: ‘When stars Twitter, a ghost may be lurking’
March 28, 2009
Here is another reason why celebrities shouldn’t be role models: they are often the result of careful marketing strategies. What we think as coming from celebrities, i.e. what some people consider as the standards towards which they strive, are actually coming from a team of people manipulating that stars image. And, however obvious this argument might seem, it’s interesting to note that it isn’t really taken into consideration nowadays.
When stars Twitter, a ghost may be lurking
By Noah Cohem; posted on IHT.com on March 27th 2009
The rapper 50 Cent is among the legion of stars who have recently embraced Twitter to reach fans who crave near-continuous access to their lives and thoughts. On March 1, he shared this insight with the more than 200,000 people who follow him: “My ambition leads me through a tunnel that never ends.”
Those were 50 Cent’s words, but it was not exactly him tweeting. Rather, it was Chris Romero, known as Broadway, the director of the rapper’s Web empire, who typed in those words after reading them in an interview.
“He doesn’t actually use Twitter,” Mr. Romero said of 50 Cent, whose real name is Curtis Jackson III, “but the energy of it is all him.”
In its short history, Twitter — a microblogging tool that uses 140 characters in bursts of text — has become an important marketing tool for celebrities, politicians and businesses, promising a level of intimacy never before approached online, as well as giving the public the ability to speak directly to people and institutions once comfortably on a pedestal.
But someone has to do all that writing, even if each entry is barely a sentence long. In many cases, celebrities and their handlers have turned to outside writers — ghost Twitterers, if you will — who keep fans updated on the latest twists and turns, often in the star’s own voice.
Because Twitter is seen as an intimate link between celebrities and their fans, many performers are not willing to divulge the help they use to put their thoughts into cyberspace.
Read the rest of this post here.
Note to all aspiring authors: there is still hope
March 12, 2009
The demise of the written word is predicted every couple of years since the inception of the Internet. I remember reading an gloomy article about how young people hoping to become internationally known published authors à la Stephen King should forget about that dream and settle for making moderate amounts of money with a book they could only hope to make it in a country or two.
And yet, while there has definitely been a slow down, there doesn’t seem to be signs of its impending doom. Quite the contrary: the written word seems to be here for awhile, as authors like Audrey Niffenegger make a killing on book deals, even on books that have yet been written.
As IHT reports: Audrey Niffenegger receives $5 million advance for second novel. FIVE MILLION? For a book that isn’t even finished? During an economic crisis? Granted, if her second book is anything like the first one, Niffenegger deserves every penny; The Time Traveler’s Wife was a beautiful yet very atypical love story written in such a way that at the end of it, one can’t really accept that one has read all of the 700+ pages. Which makes me all the more excited for Her Fearful Symmetry, which is described as: a supernatural story about twins who inherit an apartment near a London cemetery and become embroiled in the lives of the building’s other residents and the ghost of their aunt, who left them the flat.
Be still my heart. I can’t wait to get my hands on that book!
Read the ITH article here.
When superficial actions aren’t a reflection of a deeper change
January 5, 2009
It often surprises me – and it definitely intrigues me – how people convince themselves that they are doing the right thing and that their actions will bring about lasting change in their lives, when clearly (at least, to those around them) they don’t. One example is weight loss; it absolutely amazes me how women seem to convince themselves that they are cutting calories when the Caramel Macchiato before them holds enough calories to feed a classroom of kindergartners.
Which is why, when I was sent the following article on iht.com, my first reaction wasn’t: “It’s about time”, but rather, “what are they going to come up with next to sell more drugs?”. Read on and let me know what you think.
No more free goodies for U.S. doctors
To Lehman Brothers, the retailer Linens ‘n Things and the blank VHS tape, add another American institution that expired in 2008: drug company trinkets.
Starting Thursday, the pharmaceutical industry has agreed to a voluntary moratorium on the kind of branded goodies – Viagra pens, Zoloft soap dispensers, Lipitor mugs – that were meant to foster good will and, some would say, encourage doctors to prescribe more of the drugs.
No longer will Merck furnish doctors with purplish adhesive bandages advertising Gardasil, a vaccine against the human papillomavirus. Banished, too, are black T-shirts from Allergan adorned with rhinestones that spell out B-O-T-O-X. So are pens advertising the Sepracor sleep drug Lunesta, in whose barrel floats the brand’s mascot, a somnolent moth.
Some skeptics deride the voluntary ban as a superficial measure that does nothing to curb the far larger amounts drug companies spend each year on various other efforts to influence physicians.
But proponents welcome it as a step toward ending the barrage of drug brands and logos that surround, and may subliminally influence, doctors and patients.
“It’s not just the pens – it’s the paper on the exam table, the tongue depressor, the stethoscope tags, medical calipers that might be used to interpret an EKG, penlights,” said Dr. Robert Goodman, a physician in internal medicine at Montefiore Medical Center in New York City.
In 1999, Goodman started, No Free Lunch, a nonprofit group that encourages doctors to reject drug company giveaways. “Practically anything you can put a name on is branded in a doctor’s office, short of branding, like a Nascar driver, on the doctor’s white coat,” Goodman said.
The new voluntary industry guidelines try to counter the impression that gifts to doctors are intended to unduly influence medicine. The code, drawn up by Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, an industry group in Washington, bars drug companies from giving doctors branded pens, staplers, flash drives, paperweights, calculators and the like.
Read the rest of the article here – and let me know if you notice the caption for the picture heading the story. 1′200 pens! That’s enough to write for a whole lifetime, even for me!
From IHT: Even in recession, spend they must: Luxury shoppers anonymous
December 22, 2008
I read an article published on ITH.com that made my jaw drop – and not in a good way. I wanted to see other people’s reactions.
In short, the article is about the guilt rich people feel when shopping for extravagant items, and how a new niche market has been established, composed partly by invitation-only shopping events.
I’m all about enjoying the lovely things we have in this world – after all, why would they exist if we weren’t meant to enjoy them? However, when someone feels guilty about something, isn’t it worth exploring the reasons why and then dealing with the issue rather than ignoring it?
Even in recession, spend they must: Luxury shoppers anonymous
By Ruth La Ferla
Published on December 12th
Only a year ago, Maggie Buckley might have indulged a craving for, say, satin opera gloves or python sandals with a quick trip to Saks or Bergdorf Goodman. But now, in these recessionary times, she tends to avoid such public sorties.
“Shopping is almost embarrassing, and a little vulgar right now,” said Buckley, an editor at Allure magazine. Loath to be seen loading freezer-size parcels into the back of a waiting cab, she finds herself shopping at under-the-radar soirees in the homes of her friends.
Buckley is one in a coterie of shoppers turning their backs on conspicuous consumption but trawling for treasures nonetheless at invitation-only shopping events springing up in hotel suites, at private showrooms or in the well-appointed parlors of their peers. Feeling the pangs of conscience, they are shopping on the down-low, finding deals in places that are the retail equivalent of a safari on a private game reserve.
“People don’t want to be as public about shopping for luxury goods as they were in the past,” said Robert Burke, a luxury retail consultant in New York. “It’s a feel-good way to buy, and this is a time for feel-good things.”
Such covert shopping has long been enjoyed by the upper crust, people who could pay six figures for diamond-and-sapphire brooch or sable wrap — and the privilege of exclusivity. But in the current climate, stealth consumption has gained a more potent appeal, taking place at gatherings with an insiders’ feel.
“We’re like a little secret that people want to share, but not with just anybody,” said Eve Goldberg, an owner of William Goldberg, a diamond dealer in New York. Goldberg’s company recently opened a salon that caters to clients who prefer to shop discreetly.
“People are saying: ‘It’s that time of year; I want to buy something, but I feel a little weird,’ ” Goldberg said. “Often they tell me, ‘I don’t want to be out there making an announcement with a big bag that says Harry Winston.’ “
Private dealers, many of them dilettantes who acquire their wares from designer friends, at trade shows and from dealers and artisans in exotic locales, are the bane of recession-battered high-end merchants. Established retailers are hard pressed to compete with such luxury pop-up shops while maintaining inventories and absorbing the high costs of operating their businesses.
But under-the-radar parties offer the well heeled, and the well connected, a chance to snap up temptations without an inner censor chiding them for their spendthrift ways.
Read the rest of the article here.