Borges and I...T
I am not a member of any organization, but I will assume for the purpose of this exercise that I belong to Borges's Congress of the World . Ideally, this Congress includes every person on earth, so our record-keeping tasks are, hypothetically, enormous. Although at present we have only thirteen members, we have optimistically begun the compilation of a membership database.
Our records consist of two types. One type contains genealogical and biographical information about each member, including name, date and place of birth, names of parents, siblings, and offspring, current and all past mailing and email addresses, phone and fax numbers, occupations, books read and written (with dates), movies seen and made (with clips), music heard and composed (with excerpts), diseases contracted, accidents incurred, lovers loved (not to mention devastating imaginary romances), and pets owned. There is a separate record for each member of each member's family, including ancestors as far back as they can be traced. Family trees can be produced with a couple of keystrokes. Recessive genes pop up here and there. Venereal diseases ripple outward. The chronological path of a reader through the world's literature is fascinating to behold, as title after title is displayed on the screen. Yes, some of us had read Finnegan's Wake by age fifteen, while others have never gotten around to finishing Ulysses.
Which brings me to our other data file, the catalog to our collective library. We own approximately 7000 volumes, which circulate continually between us. Our online catalog keeps track of who has each book, how long they've had it, and who has requested it. Of course, what we probably should have is a full-text database of the entire library, but bibliophilia is ingrained in most of us, and we still thrill to the touch of creamy old pages impressed by lead type.
Our records consist of two types. One type contains genealogical and biographical information about each member, including name, date and place of birth, names of parents, siblings, and offspring, current and all past mailing and email addresses, phone and fax numbers, occupations, books read and written (with dates), movies seen and made (with clips), music heard and composed (with excerpts), diseases contracted, accidents incurred, lovers loved (not to mention devastating imaginary romances), and pets owned. There is a separate record for each member of each member's family, including ancestors as far back as they can be traced. Family trees can be produced with a couple of keystrokes. Recessive genes pop up here and there. Venereal diseases ripple outward. The chronological path of a reader through the world's literature is fascinating to behold, as title after title is displayed on the screen. Yes, some of us had read Finnegan's Wake by age fifteen, while others have never gotten around to finishing Ulysses.
Which brings me to our other data file, the catalog to our collective library. We own approximately 7000 volumes, which circulate continually between us. Our online catalog keeps track of who has each book, how long they've had it, and who has requested it. Of course, what we probably should have is a full-text database of the entire library, but bibliophilia is ingrained in most of us, and we still thrill to the touch of creamy old pages impressed by lead type.
