How institutional repositories work nowadays

January 20th, 2012

Let’s take a break from the usual flood of “open access, open access!” content to step back and look at institutional repositories more in general.

From Marisa Ramirez and Ann Hanlon’s Asking for Permission: A Survey of Copyright Workflows for Institutional Repositories , I learned that one can contact publishers not just about individual articles, but about retaining your publication rights for all articles you send them in the future — or even all articles you entire institution sends them in the future – and yes, you can use form letters for all of this; no need to agonize over your phrasing. (Amy and I have therefore launched an effort to get blanket permission from Purdue from one of our department’s major publication outlets. More on this story later as it develops.)

I also noted the following passage with a tone of righteous indignation:

“…libraries should not pay to provide open-access to articles authored by their faculty if they are already paying content licensing fees, and paying salaries to faculty who are not compensated by publishers for their contribution.”

It’s like a strange parallel universe. Usually, when you write something for someone else to sell, they pay you. But in academia, you (or your university) pay them. And then you pay them for a subscription. To your own work. What the hey?

Figuring out copyright is hard, and it’s made harder because almost nobody (20% of the responding repositories) shares the responses they get from publishers – and even those who do are very careful because of fears (founded or unfounded) regarding legal liability, sharing only individual policies on general sites like SHERPA/RoMEO. Which is incredibly useful, by the way. Check it out if you’re curious about an individual publisher’s policies – some repository managers didn’t even know this sort of resource existed.

The survey (of 121 repositories, mostly US/UK ones due to a paucity of institutional repositories elsewhere in the world) confirmed that librarians (not authors) are doing the bulk of the work needed to get content in a repository, that everyone was scared of copyright, and that “educating authors on copyright” was the most common challenge on the open access repository front, followed closely by “obtaining publisher copyright policies,” both of which can be tedious and thankless jobs.

Summary: learn more about copyright so you don’t have to be afraid, and realize that those who want to see the work done (in this case, institutional repositories populated — and in my case, open access) are going to have to do the work, because even if faculty are supportive of the effort, they have no time.

Next week I’ll begin working with my first faculty participant – the goal is to make one of my former professors the first person to have their complete scholarly works up on Olin’s institutional repository (or at least the ones they published while at Olin). Stay tuned.

Open access makes sense for teachers who care about teaching

January 19th, 2012

Open access makes sense for faculty who’d rather spend their time teaching. Even teaching faculty need to publish, and the more people who read your research, the better – but who’s got the time to maintain a website of their publications? Heck, I’m a regular blogger and my publications list is out of date! With open access, you don’t have to; if your institution offers personal researcher pages as a feature of their institutional repository, you automatically have an online portfolio of your publications. If your institution has an open access policy, that portfolio also makes those pieces available.

It may lead to your work being picked up by a new audience. “One of the things we’ve found is that new audiences are constantly revealing themselves to us,” the repository manager of Cal Poly said in 2009, “and that’s been the most surprising piece.” (From Jean-Gabriel Bankier and Courtney Smith’s paper on Repository Collection Policies [pdf].)

It’s also something that can benefit your students, who can also often place their work (essays, dissertations, presentations, etc) in the repositories of their colleges and universities as well. If those repositories are open access, the students have an instant public portfolio for their scholarly work, which can lead to fascinating conversations with future teachers and employers. In other words, it’s the academic equivalent to our usual argument for getting students involved in open source projects; open source gives you a portfolio of outputs of practice, whereas open access gives you a portfolio of outputs of scholarship.

Yes, grad schools can usually access published papers already, but that’s a tiny fraction of a student’s work; how many undergraduates have published papers? Even those who do will likely have a lot more good work that is not published anywhere (for instance, an undergraduate thesis), and plenty of students will want to show their portfolios to prospective industry employers, who mostly need open access to see any of this at all.

(This is, by the way, one way some faculty get into open access and institutional repositories themselves — they nudge their students to put things into their school’s repository, then go “wait, I could do that too.”)

And this isn’t just about big research schools. Jonathan Miller, the library director for Rollins College, writes about OA for liberal arts colleges.

Colleagues are surprised because they assume OA is an issue for researchers and the large universities that employ the majority of them. I argue that OA is not just the concern of research universities. In fact, it might be even more relevant for smaller colleges than for larger schools.

Rollins is a largely undergraduate, teaching intensive school with a liberal arts curriculum. This means that, at least in one sense, we need broad not deep access to information. We are net information consumers, rather than net producers. The subscription model of collecting a relatively small number of periodical titles “just in case,” doesn’t make much business sense for a school like us. What we really need is “just in time” access to a broad array of information resources, none of which will be used particularly heavily… the librarians are the faculty and students’ guides and partners in a larger, richer, but more complicated  information environment.

If you care about teaching, you should care about open access. If you’re curious and wondering where to learn more, here are the best resources that I’ve found.

Why is there a bird and a PBJ sandwich in our picture of engineering thinking?

January 18th, 2012

Answer: why not?

“What is engineering thinking?” asked Prof. Demetra Evangelou on the first day of our Theories of Development and Engineering Thinking class (henceforth abbreviated as “Thinking”). “Draw a picture.” So Farrah, Dana, Francesca, Tosin, and myself came up with this, inspired partially by our History and Philosophy of Engineering Education class last fall (henceforth abbreviated as “H&P”).

It’s missing the disclaimers we added later, which are “NOT DRAWN TO SCALE” and “WARNING, IMPERFECT MODEL” – but it’ll suffice. We wanted to illustrate tensions and cycles, creativity and constraints, and intended this to be a loop – time moves from “idea!” on the left to “solution!” on the right, but there’s also an arrow that swings back from the black box (solution) at the end back to the lightbulb (idea) on the right.

As engineers, we dream all sorts of dreams, synthesize so many things from all over – school, books, other people (collaboration runs rampant in the field), music, nature, dreams, art, other disciplines, history – and yes, birds and peanut butter sandwiches. We have the privilege of dreaming and the responsibility of implementation; it’s an engineer’s job to make dreams real, and reality imposes some constraints. You can see those in blue across the middle; manpower, available skills and resources, money, time, environmental factors, and so forth. And then the right side displays the analytical side (which is, in my opinion, necessary but overemphasized in most engineering programs) – quantifying, neatening, narrowing down, analyzing, optimizing… until – solution, usually not because it’s truly done and satisfactory, but because we have to ship now.

Tshirt idea: ENGINEERS – MAKIN’ IT REAL.

We had some fascinating discussions in the meantime. Tosin proposed that engineering thinking was “cynical” – you’re trained to be a little skeptical of everything, wary, running worst-case scenarios because lives may depend on your solutions. Francesca found words to describe the struggle of balancing subjectivity with objectivity. I argued that engineering thinking in practice was completely different from engineering thinking in theory: there’s what we tell our students and write in our textbook, and then there’s what we actually do when we walk out of the classroom and roll up our sleeves.

The other groups came up with diagrams with disembodied heads, babies, funnels, wheels… we’re having a good time. (And then Prof. Evangelou assigned this week’s readings and everybody’s eyes widened slightly in panic at the sheer volume of material – but we’ll survive.)

Resources for open access advocates

January 18th, 2012

In the course of going through the literature on open access (OA), I’ve come across a ton of resources for folks who want to learn about open access. Most of them are okay. A few of them are gems. Here are the gems.

Anyone who writes and publishes (researchers, authors, students, and those who want to work with them) should read this little document on Author’s Rights [pdf] by Charles Bailey that gives a clear how-to and why-to introduction on getting started with open access. It covers reasons for making things open access, explains copyright and publisher agreements, shows you how to quickly find (and respond to) the policies of the publishers you use, explains creative commons licences and open access journals… I found it to be an easy-to-read guide (10 pages not counting cover page and bibliography) that I’ll use as a quick-reference in the future.

For anyone who wants to give a quick talk on open access, use or remix Isaac Gilman’s sharp little (public-domain!) slidedeck on “open access in 15 minutes or less.”

Finally, if you’re an open access advocate at your institution and looking for some empirical data to take to people, print out this handy crib sheet for conversations on open access with both authors and administrators. It contains a list of selling points for each audience, plus (I love this) links to actual data and examples to back up as many points as possible.

It doesn’t quite cover everything, though, so you’ll also want to download all 17 pages of The Open Access Citation Advantage by Alma Swan, which is an annotated bibliography covering (as of 2010) the empirical research that’s been done on the effects of OA on, quite simply, “the things researchers get evaluated on.” It’s essentially a big table of papers and their findings, so you can (for instance) search for studies specific to your field, sort by sample size, check their analytical approaches, and so on. They consistently find that, yes, Virginia, there is an OA citation advantage. (Of the 31 studies covered, 27 demonstrated a clear OA advantage, and 4 demonstrated either no advantage of a disadvantage — if anyone takes a look at those 4, I’d love to hear what you find!)

Becoming a cyborg

January 17th, 2012

Via Nina Cary, a great short post on disabled bodies and ableist acceptance that makes me go damn yeah.

Since age 2, I’ve had the type of hearing loss that’s hardest to amplify. I’m also an engineer who sometimes wonders how to amplify it anyway, a geek who occasionally reads up on languages and cognition and tries to intellectually understand what I can’t perceive, and a hacker who enjoys playing with new tools. But for all that, I’ve been incredibly reluctant to have those new tools go on me or inside me; I’m also the 5th grader who stood up to her parents and teachers and refused to continue wear hearing aids, and a musician who never wants a cochlear implant to compromise my playing, even if I’d likely be a great candidate for EAS.

Part of this is the social stigma. Tools that are on you, in you, with you — people can see them. They mark you as different. “Differently abled,” some advocates say… but really, in common parlance, that simply means “broken.” I’m not broken; I happen to be a first-order low-pass filter.

That last sentence is a key glimpse into the second part: I am a hacker, and I want my body, including my hearing, to be my platform to control. Imagine revisiting my signal processing coursework with this! Imagine being able to treat my hearing like a computer peripheral, exploring what I can do once it’s able to bluetooth-sync to other devices — my head would be an absolutely spiffy sensor probe! These are all things that hearing people might find fascinating; these are all things they might find fun, we may someday all go around with hearing augmentation.

But right now, it’s not worth it to be a cyborg. There’s still a social stigma when people see a hearing aid or a cochlear implant; subtly, somehow, you get treated as more stupid than you would have otherwise. The platforms aren’t mature and accessible enough to overcome their social, financial, and opportunity cost (time I spend hacking on my ears is time I could have spent hacking on something else). And some of these are irreversible decisions: in the case of cochlear implants, you only get one shot per ear; whatever electrode you stick in there is the one you’re stuck with for the rest of your life (unless you want to pull it out and become completely and irreversibly deaf).

So it’s not worth it to me to be a cyborg. Yet. That I know of.

However, Purdue has this great department that does hearing and speech research. And they’re doing some interesting things. And I’ve started heading down there and meeting people, asking if they need an articulate guinea pig who also happens to know software and electronics. And they go wait, you’re an engineer? We need those!

We’ll see what happens.

Online writing, casinos, and finally installing Plover

January 16th, 2012

Just learned from Mary Bitter that my opensource.com article “Typing at 255 WPM shouldn’t cost $4000: Plover, the open source steno system” was doing well, with over 1,300 views the day before it hit Hacker News (update: now with over 7,000 views on the original article, 236 points and 68 comments and still climbing on Hacker News, and on LWN as well). I don’t write many articles for opensource.com, but tend to be proud of the ones I do – they’re longer and probably a bit more thoughtful than the average, and this shows up on view statistics, which has an impact on the things I write about. (This just in from Josh, Plover’s main developer: “The latest release outpaces the other releases by so much that I’m still not convinced it’s not the result of a spider downloading the tarball every hour.”)

I love Plover as a project, and I’m glad they’re getting lots of attention (well-deserved, and particularly important now that they have a feature-complete product!) – but this was very much not something I was consciously designing for. I don’t think about social media propagation or eyeballs or click counts or anything of that sort, and I’m not sure if I should, honestly. Certainly not on this blog; I’ve turned down multiple advertising offers (they seem to increase in frequency each year) because I made a decision many years ago that my personal blog was for me and for an audience of one – my future self. This means I’ve always written what I felt like writing about, when I felt like writing… it’s an outlet, it’s a place of peace and questioning, it’s many things, but it is definitely mine. And that feels good, having something I do only for myself.

I think that my primary vocation these days (graduate student) may have enough writing-for-other-people that I don’t want to add more to that load; if I want to make things for other people, I might want to try another modality first to balance out my production-portfolio: making physical things, like food or book covers or caricatures – or making intangible things that aren’t writing, like music or talks. Still, the thought of freelance writing or blogging (again, not on this blog, but on another) or creating information products as an income stream is fascinating, although I feel a little… uncomfortable thinking about it. I gotta get over this “thinking about money makes me feel all dirty” thing.

I’m squirming a bit, so it’s time to switch topics. It was a fun three-day weekend, spent back in Glenview with my parents; we went to a casino that’s recently opened not far from our house. Not to play, mind you. I know how the math works, and besides with all the blinking lights and beeping noises I don’t think I could last longer than 20 minutes before nausea overcame me. However, they did have an amazing buffet, which was what we were checking out. Ah, Chinese families!

Also, via Kevin Mark, I found my next German language minilearning project: a telenovela. It’s designed for language learners around my level, and it’s subtitled (in German). Let’s see how quickly I can get through this one! Afterwards I’ll probably work through the second grammar book (this one entirely in German) that Sebastian picked out for me in Hannover, and then… we’ll see. As a potential fun-for-later thing, Kevin Cole sent along Duolingo, which I very much want to try once my account gets an invitation.

And now back to Plover. When I got back to my apartment by Purdue, I unpacked a box that’s been waiting for me for a week, and… well, this picture is for Mirabai.

I finally installed and tried out Plover (worked perfectly), and yes, that’s masking tape on my brand-new Sidewinder X4 keyboard. As for what I’ve learned so far… well, uh, I’m struggling to remember the vowels, actually. So the answer there is “not much yet.”

Pressing two keys with one finger on this setup is awkward, but I guess it’s ok for initial learning… and if I get really into this, I do have an office in the same building as the student project laser cutter. My tentative Plover goal is to be able to use Plover for my dissertation research — which for the record is at least two years from now since this is my first year of grad school. I don’t care if that means transcribing interviews or writing the actual paper or whatever, but I’d like to be able to think of Plover as another tool I can just use by then (rather than something new that needs to be learned).

Adventures in learning German: Why I love grammar but not finding word boundaries

January 14th, 2012

My ability to understand German has spiked dramatically since the last time I posted about language-learning. I’m still nowhere near good (or even minimally functional), but some indicators:

Kaffeestunde. When I walked into Kaffeestunde (German coffee hour) in the German department on Monday, I was able to understand Jennifer talking about her new car without straining at all. My own attempts to talk back were more difficult because I had to grasp for vocabulary, and I needed to ask for explanations of some unfamiliar words, but it felt like there was a structure there that words fell into and that I could see and fix the bits I didn’t understand, instead of having everything be one confused morass.

Books. I can now read my Petterson und Findus book slowly on my own without a dictionary and get the gist of what’s going on at a rate of about 3 minutes per page. Again, I’m missing too much vocabulary to understand everything, but still; in the past I wouldn’t be able to grasp the plot at all until Sebastian read and translated it for me.

As a benchmark for Americans: this book is perhaps written around the level of the Little House on the Prairie series, but is much shorter. I remember Little House being pleasantly easy to read, so this means I now read German at slightly below the level I read English at when I was… 5. Which is comforting, because if I look at my (English) writing at that age, it’s somewhere around the level my German writing is now (albeit with more sophisticated topics now that I’m in my twenties).

What’s happened in the meantime? Well, I spent 5 days in Germany; on one of those days Sebastian took me to the largest bookstore in Hannover and I got a grammar workbook (PONS Power-Sprachtraining Deutsch als Fremdsprache) which I set to with a will. This occasionally meant a little bit of ridiculousness. One night in Valencia I fell asleep in the middle of conjugating the 6 modal verbs. (Sebastian was working from a nearby desk at the time and listening in great amusement; the next morning, what I pieced together was that I’d been lying in bed reciting conjugations, progressively getting slower and quieter and sleepier-sounding until I went from distinct words to occasional mumbles to silence.) Once classes started I was getting up before 6am in order to work chapters before school. But I finished yesterday, 10 days after we first got the book. Triumph!

As a side note: Valencia was beautiful, and the drive between Barcelona and Valencia was soaked with sun and hills and vineyards, ocean vistas, orange groves… I highly, highly recommend it.

Anyhow. Grammar! It makes things make sense! Cases and tenses and genders, prepositions and pronouns, grammatical terms I’d heard about in middle school but dismissed because I didn’t need them to understand English… it helped me articulate the patterns I’d been seeing in the language, and uncovered some I hadn’t noticed at all. Insanely motivating. After each chapter, I’d read something unfamiliar in German and notice that it made more sense. Which makes sense. Since I can’t hear, my language perception functions with highly predictive patterns that rely on my knowledge of how sentences can be structured — and grammar is, essentially, the rules for how to structure sentences in a given language.

I will say, however, that I needed all that past experience of trying to read German in order to go through the grammar book as quickly and as gleefully as I just did. The joy was in how learning a bit of grammar illuminated so much material that I’d previously read and not completely understood; without experiences in the past to illuminate, there would have been no spark, no motivation. In fact, I did try going through a German grammar book maybe a year ago before I’d really started trying to study German, and I got maybe 3 pages in before concluding it was boring crap; there was no context for the rules to cling to.

This way, however, I could read the section on softeners (words you use with imperatives in order to soften a command – the difference between a stern “EAT!” and a polite “Could you please eat a bit?”) and flash back to a picture of a frog Sebastian had sent me years ago to cheer me up when I was down.

I had previously held a vague understanding that the frog was trying to convey some sort of happy cheering-up message, but when I hit the grammar chapter I jumped up and went holy crap it’s the second person informal imperative form of lachen with two softeners I understand it now! (Literally. I ran over to Sebastian all excited and told him that more or less verbatim. His bemused reaction: “That’s very nice, dear.”)

Word boundaries have been… I won’t say “less successful,” but rather that as I’ve progressed, the precise nature of my difficulties surrounding individual word discrimination have become more clear (and loom larger than I anticipated). Here’s why.

Words are discrete units. That previous sentence consisted of four chunks; I know where the boundaries are between them (thank you, space bar!) and so I know that I can look at the chunk “are” separately from the chunk “discrete” and I’ll be okay. (As opposed to looking at, say, the chunk “iscrete” or the chunk “te uni,” which would be way less helpful).

In contrast, audio is a continuous stream. For me, it’s a continuous lossy stream. And native speakers (of any language) seem to blend their language into more of a continuous stream than non-native speakers – so a simple sentence like “Wir werden Kaffee trinken” (We will drink coffee) goes through my broken cochlea (which can’t hear consonants, etc) and hits my brain as something like “Vererdenatheethkphbltken.” And I go “uh, how many words was that?”

In contrast, if someone is speaking slowly — or if I’m talking with another non-native speaker, who also parcels out sentences word by word — that breaks up a bit neater: “Ver erden athee thkphbltken.” Now I know there are four words. “Ver” might be “Wer” or “Wir,” but it didn’t sound like a question, so it’s probably “Wir,” which means that “erden” is a verb, and knowing how verbs are conjugated after “wir” along with a rough guess of common possibilities might lead me to “Wir werden,” and then I see that they were pointing to the pot of coffee and go “oh, oh, Kaffee trinken,” and so on.

Figuring out how and where to put in word dividers in realtime conversation is something I haven’t quite figured out how to drill for yet. The best I can come up with is watching subtitled videos (audio in German, subtitles also in German) and learning how to correlate text with sound. Ideas would be very welcome.

Dogfood

January 12th, 2012

Make important things fast

Not all actions are equal. Decide what's most important in your app and make it easy to find and fast to use, like the shutter button in a camera, or the pause button in a music player.

These Android design principles are all well and good, but someone needs to explain how when someone calls me on Ice Cream Sandwich*, it takes a good 2-3 seconds sometimes to resolve the phone number that's calling into a name and picture. How did that make it out of testing? Is that not, like, the most important thing your phone should do when someone is calling you?

*On my Galaxy Nexus, the king of phones, no less

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Why OA makes a bigger difference to little teaching schools, debunking the 3 major theories of open access impact, and arXive

January 12th, 2012

That paper I mentioned yesterday on open access legal scholarship? There’s more. At the very end, the authors explain how they think that good articles in smaller and less prestigious publications – “diamonds in the rough” – will benefit the most from the “OA effect” [of increased citations] since stuff in the prestigious publications will be read and cited anyway.

Bells started to go off in my head. It sounds like they’re saying that the academic institutions that have the most to gain from open access are small ones, less research-based ones… teaching institutions. The same types of schools we keep on seeing in Teaching Open Source. The same professors that show up summer after summer at POSSE. These places aren’t heavily populated by the “traditional” tech research powerhouses like MIT or Carnegie Mellon; we get teaching faculty. They’re little liberal arts schools, they’re satellite campuses, they’re places where professors spend more time in classrooms than in labs.

And yet these same faculty do have to publish something, or they willperish. Could open access – or something about it, habits like it – have a turbo-boost effect on these professors and make it easier for them to meet and surpass what they’re expected to do for research? (The other two things faculty are traditionally evaluated on are “teaching” – self explanatory – and “service,” which means committees, advising, and other administrative duties.) It looks like there’s an article on exactly that - Open Access and Liberal Arts Colleges: Looking Beyond Research Institutions. I’ll be reading it next week – I’m curious what it’ll say.

Other bits and pieces I found useful:

The literature has proposed three major theories to explain why open access increases the impact of scholarship.

The Open Access Postulate theorizes that because open access articles are more easily accessed, they are read more often. Convenient access alone, according to this argument, increases the likelihood of citation.

The Early Access Postulate suggests that articles benefit from their quicker “start out of the gate” over competing articles on the same topic, and therefore the citation rate is higher for articles that are posted early in the publication process.

The third offered explanation is the Self-selection Bias Postulate, which argues that authors self-select to publish their best articles online thus increasing their citation rate, assuming that these are also the “better” articles in their respective subject areas.

from “Citation Advantage of Open Access Legal Scholarship

The article swiftly goes on to disagree with each of them. My summaries:

  • The Open Access Postulate doesn’t hold true for legal scholarship; legal researchers have access to all this material already without open access, since their libraries have subscriptions. So it’s not that these are information-impoverished law faculty who desperately seek access to any legal papers whatsoever. (That’s the conclusion of the authors – I don’t quite buy this, because access and really easy access are two different things; the water fountain may be right outside my office door, but my hydration rate increased dramatically when I started putting a water bottle on my desk.)
  • The Early Access Postulate also doesn’t hold true, since the data used in this study comes from both before and after the “we can archive preprints of our work online!” revolution in law, and doesn’t show any correlation of citation rate to whether articles were put online preprint or much later.
  • The Self-selection Bias Postulate looks like it may also not hold true; as more papers get placed online by default, it seems to have no effect on the increased citation rate.

Finally, when I was asking about the spread of OA through various disciplines (did Law pick up on OA faster than, say, English? Much later than Chemistry? Why? What factors influence the speed of OA adoption in a community?) Amy and Dana responded by saying “hrm, perhaps you could parse some arXiv data to find that out.” I scratched my head. “What’s arXiv?”

Turns out it’s an archive for electronic preprints of scientific papers in the fields of mathematics, physics, astronomy, computer science, quantitative biology, statistics, and quantitative finance which can be accessed online.” (Thank you, Wikipedia). It’s big, it’s historic (for the internet – it’s 20 years old), it’s awesome and impressive – and I immediately burst out laughing. “That’s  a more open, non-web-2.0 version of Scribd!” (Note that I use Scribd as an example mostly because it’s what people will know – it’s definitely not as openly accessible as I want it to be.)

If you think about it, though – they both host pdfs so they’re easier to find and access, they deliberately don’t count as “publishers” so it’s really about the access… sure, arXiv provides more scholarly-flavored metadata fields, but you could pretty much use an existing service like Scribd to build an arXiv of your own. (Although the point of arXiv is that there weren’t existing services at the time – it predates Scribd.)

So it’s a lot of fun, seeing what’s out there. Now I’m off to the humanities library to see if someone can help me figure out good search terms for answering the question “are there any information-management habits common to successful scholars?” because… I’m swimming in so much learning and information now that my coping strategies are straining, and I desperately need new ones.

Hup!

The open access impact lasts for 17 years

January 11th, 2012

This morning was my first sprint on my Olin Open Access Institutional Repository independent study. As a refresher, making content open access (OA) means…

By open access, we mean its immediate, free availability on the public internet, permitting any users to read, download, copy, distribute, print, search or link to the full text of these articles, crawl them for indexing, pass  them as data to software or use them for any other lawful purpose.

–from Citation Advantage of Open Access Legal Scholarship

I spent it (unexpectedly) engrossed in Citation Advantage of Open Access Legal Scholarship (by James M. Donovan and Carol A. Watson), which took articles from an 18-year span from each of 3 law journals published by the University of Georgia and checked for correlations between citations of an article and its open access status (having “open access” status here was defined by “we could find the full text by using Google” – regardless of having the full text out there was technically legal or not).

Short version: yes, there was a nontrivial impact; OA papers got cited 58% more than non-OA ones. No surprise here; we’ve found this before. Two new things caught my attention, though.

First, how long does the “OA impact” last? 17 years. Donovan and Watson found the impact on citations trailed off over time, petering out at the 17 year mark. Why 17? No idea. (Would they have found different things if they’d looked at more than 18 years’ worth of data? I don’t know.) I wonder what you could do with a knowledge of that 17-year timeout – is that 17 years after publication, or 17 years after it first gets placed online? If it’s the latter, could individual researchers use this as a strategy to revitalize interest in work they did over two decades ago?

Second, OA had no (significant) impact on nonscholarly use of the material. The paper was written about legal scholarship, so what this means in practice is that while OA increases the use of an individual article by legal academics, it did not increase its use by courts. I wonder if similar things hold true in engineering; does OA make research more likely to be used by practicing engineers building real products, or does it only have an impact on engineering researchers? (Yes, I realize most practicing engineers hardly ever read research papers.) If it doesn’t, what strategies would facilitate the transfer of engineering research discoveries into the “real world” of “actual products” and the things that “working engineers” know?

Fascinating.

Next week I’ll finish the reading portion – far more efficiently, because I plan on coming in with printed copies of pre-triaged papers.  Boy, am I glad we budgeted some start-up time; this morning’s biggest accomplishment was getting a basic Zotero workflow up and running (not the software so much as the habits I developed in order to use it effectively). I only managed to read one paper, mostly because I spent far too much time taking overly detailed notes on it; in the future, I’ll reserve detailed note-taking for really important papers and write short summaries for the rest. (Next week I’ll arrive with a printed stack of papers already triaged by importance and really try to blast through them.)

I also found the first reading for the open* reading group Seb Benthall and I are going to do this term: selections from The Access Principle, which (as its subtitle says) makes a “Case for Open Access to Research and Scholarship” – and an empirical one, too.