Many thanks to Dan Solove and the Co-Op gang for graciously allowing me to dip my toe into the blogging waters (an unlovely word, “blog,” I think, but never mind). I’ve enjoyed my stay and have appreciated the thoughtful comments.
As an avid blog reader, I’ve been fascinated by the many forms blogs can take: personal diaries, op-ed pages, clipping services, breaking news alerts, scholarly journals, news magazines, debate clubs, literary salons, and on and on. It’s this fascination that draws me in, resulting in a seemingly never-ending accumulation of browser bookmarks and a daily round-robin of reading in an effort to keep up with the many voices speaking, often simultaneously.
So when history considers what blogging hath wrought, I think the new pace of discourse will be high on the list. It’s thrilling to see debate about a new Supreme Court opinion take place hours after it’s handed down, rather than months later in the law reviews. But I wonder if the expectation of instacommentary doesn’t impose at least a small burden both on writers and on readers. The form risks our feeling as if we must be engaged in a constant discussion with one another, writing blogs, linking to other blogs, reading blogs, commenting on blogs ad infinitum. I am quite sure that I am revealing my own tendencies toward introversion when I say that this proliferation of speech is at times as exhausting as it is exhilarating.
I’m not proposing any changes here or solutions — to each his own panacea (if indeed a remedy is needed). Rely on intermediaries (such as Larry Solum’s excellent blog and Michael Froomkin’s new venture); read more selectively and resign oneself to the fact that conversations don’t stop simply because one leaves the room; or simply enjoy the fact that the marketplace of ideas is sometimes a Turkish bazaar: full of life, color, and a good deal of noise, but offering great treasures if you know where to look.