reviews.indd Book Reviews 83 citizen trust, cultural diversity, economic stratification, and educational attainment have long affected participation in democ- racy and access to government services. While there is no question that these obstacles persist in our era of e-govern- ment, the methodologically sound stud- ies presented here offer social scientists a way to test how these challenges are mediated through diff erent e-government initiatives as well as how to implement a variety of Internet discovery tools. Librarians and students of information studies will also benefit from this book’s careful analysis of end-user behavior in relation to Web sites, databases, and portal design. While the underlying goal of e-governments in democracies is to create systems that efficiently deliver needed information and services, diff er- ent information structures, such as user- centered or agency-centered approaches, are shown to offer distinct advantages and disadvantages. Unlike commercial Web sites, democratic e-governments are quintessential public service institutions. As such, they can provide librarians with alternative models and (sometimes) in- novative solutions to the problems of organizing a complex information envi- ronment for diverse end-users. Library Web designers undertaking Web usability studies will benefit from the performance metrics used to evaluate e-government portals. Comparative Perspectives on E-gov- ernment collects for its readers, in one volume, the thoughtful analysis of the discourse of information policy most important to researchers. It is a wonder- ful entrance into a developing political institution.—David Michalski, University of California at Davis. Buckland, Michael. Emanuel Goldberg and His Knowledge Machine: Informa- tion, Invention, and Political Forces. Westport, Conn.: Libraries Unlimited (New Directions in Information Manage- ment), 2006. 380 p. (ISBN 0313313326). LC 2005-34357. A invented it, while B and C got the credit, fame, and glory. Sound familiar? That, in a nutshell, is a major aspect of the story Michael Buckland recounts in his biog- raphy of Emanuel Goldberg (1881–1970), one of Germany’s most creative engineer- ing geniuses. Writing a biography of a man whose career the Nazis attempted to discredit is no small challenge: many of the documents essential to learning about Goldberg’s life and work were destroyed in air raids during World War II or willfully obliterated by the Nazis. Many people who knew vital details did not survive the war, while some who did survive were unwilling to concede genius to this inspired inventor. In addition, air raids destroyed the working models of one key invention that is a prime focus of this biography. Buckland, former dean of the Univer- sity of California’s School of Information Management Systems at the Berkeley campus, is now an emeritus professor. Because of his deep and broad knowledge of library and information science, he is uniquely qualified to research the life and achievements of Emanuel Goldberg, a re- markable but little known scientist. What makes his book especially noteworthy is that Buckland was able to assemble a fairly detailed portrait of Goldberg’s life from very meager and widely scattered sources. Buckland’s achievement is the re- sult of long, arduous labor and intensive research. Further, his persistent detective work enabled him to go far beyond his subject’s substantial scientifi c achieve- ments. In his book, we see the human being behind the technological achieve- ments and we perceive the inventor as a person, not simply as a mind. Russian born, Emanuel Goldberg re- ceived his early education at a Moscow gymnasium. Following completion of his secondary studies, in which he excelled in science and technology, Goldberg wanted to enroll at the Imperial Technical School of Moscow. However, despite outstand- ing grades, he was denied acceptance because a quota system allocated only 84 College & Research Libraries January 2007 three percent of admissions to Jews. Instead, he attended the University of Moscow, where he studied chemistry and then went on to further study in Germany, eventually settling in that country. He began his advanced studies at the Institute for Physical Chemistry at the University of Leipzig, continued in England at the School of Photoengraving and Lithography, and received his Ph.D. in 1906 from the University of Leipzig. That same year, Goldberg’s creative career began in earnest when he took on his first important employment at the Technical University of Berlin, the city that was then the world’s center of high technology R&D. In Berlin, Goldberg’s fi eld gradually shifted to concentration on photographic technology, including its chemical, opti- cal, and mechanical aspects. As his career matured, Goldberg devel- oped a high level of expertise in precision mechanics, a field he was able to meld with his photochemical knowledge to produce innovative camera designs after World War I ended. He designed the Kin- amo, a compact, highly successful movie camera, one of the first to be marketed expressly to amateurs. In commercial photography, Goldberg developed one of the first systems for making sound mov- ies. He devised what became known as the “Goldberg Wedge,” a sensitometric device for measuring light intensity and for calibrating photographic equipment and materials for optimum exposure. Goldberg was one of the earliest workers in aerial photography, but litt le specific documentation on his eff orts survives. He was among a small cluster of Ger- man researchers who conducted some of the earliest practical experiments with television in the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1920s, he pioneered extreme reduction microforms, from which the well-known “microdots,” a World War II German es- pionage tool, emerged. Early in the 1930s, Goldberg developed the Zeiss Contax 35mm camera, a very creditable com- petitor to the world-famous Leica and, in many ways, quite superior to the latt er. In the mid-1930s, he designed a compact, folding microfilm camera, perhaps the first true “scholar’s camera.” Ultimately, Goldberg became the Man- aging Director—essentially the CEO—of Zeiss-Ikon, the most prestigious German optical firm of that era. But with Hitler’s election as Chancellor of Germany in 1933, the Nazis took over both German politics and German industry. Party loyalists removed or “revised” company records to eliminate documentation of the Russian-born Jewish émigré engineer’s connections to the Contax camera and to the Zeiss-Ikon firm. In the spring of 1933, after Goldberg had for some time been head of the Zeiss-Ikon works, Nazi goons actually arrested him and might have carried him off to a concentration camp. Luckily, Goldberg still had enough connections in high places to escape that fate. After being forced to sign a lett er of resignation from Zeiss-Ikon, he narrowly escaped Germany, fleeing with his family first to Italy and France, and fi nally, in 1937, to Palestine. There Goldberg found- ed what was to become one of Israel’s first technology companies devoted to the manufacture and repair of scientific instruments. He spent the remainder of his life in Israel. But it is in the field of library and information science where Goldberg’s mind and influence worked to make him a fitting subject of interest to the modern library community. Buckland’s intensive research into surviving documents and his wide-ranging interviews with surviv- ing family members and former Zeiss technical staff enabled him to uncover the significant details of Goldberg’s major inventions in photography, optics, and precision mechanics. To provide context, throughout the book Buckland keenly analyzes pivotal German political developments of the 1930s. He illustrates their grim impact upon the supposedly objective worlds of science and technology. He succinctly summarizes the character and worldwide influence of Germany’s highly regarded Book Reviews 85 university system which, in pre-Nazi days, made German higher education so prestigious and valued. A valuable con- tribution to library history is Goldberg’s clear and succinct outline of the Universal Bibliographic Repertory envisaged by contemporaries Wilhelm Ostwald and Paul Otlet, two great early 20th-century pioneers of documentation and informa- tion science. Buckland suggests that their ideas represent an early form of hyper- text—or at least foreshadow its ultimate development. Several chapters deal in substantial scientific detail with photo- graphic technology. But these chapters are not for beginners; their treatment is likely to be understood only by those who know the fundamentals of sensitometry. In direct reflection of the “knowledge machine” referenced in the book’s title, Buckland focuses powerfully on tracing the development of Goldberg’s seminal contribution to modern information science, an apparatus for which others, notably Ralph Shaw and Vannevar Bush, got both the credit and the glory, and he explains why and how this happened. Ultimately, under the stewardship of American librarian Ralph Shaw (1907–72), Goldberg’s concept was realized in the United States as Shaw’s Rapid Selector and, still later, as a central concept of Vannevar Bush’s fabled Memex. What exactly was Goldberg’s “knowl- edge machine” and why is so litt le known about it? Conceived in the late 1920s and early 1930s, the Goldberg device was an optical-mechanical apparatus that held microfilmed documents accompanied by previously assigned binary retrieval codes, the whole being stored on a long, rapidly scanned reel of microfilm. A photocell read retrieval codes and a target document was displayed on a screen or printed out. How would researchers find documents of interest? An encoded search argument input into the machine would cause the scan to halt when a document code and a search argument matched. (The system was similar to the “peek-a- boo” retrieval system implemented with punched cards half a century ago.) Gold- berg had developed his invention around 1930 and patented it in both Germany and the United States. In fact, IBM acquired the U.S. rights to Goldberg’s patent, and Kodak Research Laboratories also knew of it. Unfortunately for Goldberg, in his patent he had called his device simply a “statistical machine,” a name hardly sug- gestive of its intended usage. Equally un- fortunate for Goldberg was the wartime loss of his working prototypes. In the course of developing the Rapid Selector, Ralph Shaw, Librarian of the Department of Agriculture, had actually done a patent search but he never found the Goldberg patent. Quite understand- able: neither he nor anyone else would have searched under the subject head- ing “statistical machine.” Shaw’s Rapid Selector was certainly a novel solution to a difficult problem, but three factors severely limited its scope and usefulness: (1) the device had a relatively limited stor- age capacity; (2) it was first necessary to microfilm all the documents of interest; and (3) the designer faced the seem- ingly intractable problem of analyzing and classifying every source document and assigning subject headings, index terms, or descriptors before microfilm- ing. In practical terms, even in the 1940s, neither Goldberg’s “statistical machine” nor Shaw’s Rapid Selector could pos- sibly have coped with the vast array of research materials of interest to scientists. Goldberg, and Shaw after him, certainly had an inkling of the right idea, but they lacked the technology to realize their concepts. Still, Goldberg surely deserves the credit for being the pioneer, though in the ALA World Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science (both the 1st and 2nd editions) it is Shaw who is given credit for “inventing” the device. However, events outside the library community add to the story. It was an en- gineer, Vannevar Bush (1890–1974), who received most of the glory for the idea of a microfilm-based retrieval machine. During World War II, Bush was director 86 College & Research Libraries January 2007 of the government’s Offi ce of Scientific Research and Development. In the 1930s he had already built a highly successful computer, the Diff erential Analzyer, an analog precursor of the modern digital computer. Later, Bush became a dean at MIT and, ultimately, president of the Carnegie Institution. At mid-century, with the exception of Einstein, probably no American scientist was bett er known or more influential. Bush, a very skill- ful writer and expert publicist, further enhanced his already secure reputation by publishing, in the July 1945 issue of the Atlantic Monthly, a highly influential and much-to-be-cited article, “As We May Think,” in which he proposed the Memex, essentially a scientist’s work station. The Memex would hold a vast store of infor- mation—compacted onto microform—in a desk. As Bush envisioned the device, scientists would work at consoles from whose screens they could call up any data in the so-called Memex for immedi- ate display. The Atlantic Monthly article instantly made Bush internationally famous far be- yond the science community, raising him to an almost mythical status in the then arcane and not yet well-defined fi eld of information science. A few experimental microfilm-based file and search machines were actually built at MIT and at ERA (Engineering Research Associates) for Ralph Shaw’s Department of Agriculture Library. But the Memex itself remained nothing but a concept, a fantasy, because Bush, like many other would-be prophets of rapid information retrieval, had failed to understand that compact data storage wasn’t the real challenge to a scientist’s research work. The same three constraints that limited the usefulness of Shaw’s Rap- id Selector would surely have severely reduced the performance of the Memex, had it ever gone beyond the conceptual stage. The real problem, as every librarian knows, was identifi cation, organization, and retrieval—“bibliographic control” in libraryspeak—a challenge not solved on a large scale until high-speed computers and giant bibliographic networks began to be realized in the last third of the 20th century. Even now, finally catching up with librarianship, the major Internet services and software developers are at last discovering what we librarians have known for centuries: in a world awash in information, search-and-retrieval, not storage, is the truly central system need. In the May 1992 issue of the Journal of the American Society for Information Sci- ence (JASIS), Buckland wrote a succinct account of Goldberg’s statistical machine that included a trenchant critique of the work done by Shaw and Bush to develop a high-speed microfi lm-based document retrieval machine. In this article, Buck- land conclusively established Goldberg’s priority in the invention and creation of a working apparatus. Doubtless it was this article that started Buckland’s quest for more information on Emanuel Goldberg, enough to portray the entire scope of this unheralded scientist’s career. Through years of deep research and what must have been many frustrations and fruit- less dead ends, Buckland has produced a book that not only greatly amplifi es his JASIS article but also restores the reputa- tion and achievement of a scientist that a perverted government attempted to discredit. To buttress his case, Buckland reprints selected original German lan- guage materials germane to Goldberg’s life and work. There is a full bibliography of the scientist’s publications, as well as many very good illustrations. A separate appendix contains over 250 numbered notes. (Actually, the extent of the notes is somewhat greater because note numbers are repeated when successive references point to the same source.) A general bib- liography of over 500 entries, including both printed works and Web-accessible files, rounds out the work and provides stimulus for additional research. An ap- pendix listing patents illustrates the wide span of Goldberg’s scientifi c interests. But alas, all is not well. Despite the richness of content and depth of his research, it is glaringly evident that the Book Reviews 87 author did not receive the editorial sup- port he deserved. A host of embarrassing errors testify to the lack of editorial over- sight and assistance. Editorial blunders and omissions—some serious—permeate the work. Here, there is space to cite only a few. The valuable and detailed numbered endnotes—some include original German wording—are nowhere referenced within the text itself! Without endnote numbers in the book, it is very laborious to connect a numbered note to its pertinent text. This is a great pity, because these notes often contain highly cogent comments that amplify the main text. At the end of the Preface, the author acknowledges sabbatical support from Phi Beta Mu, identified as the International Library and Information Science Honor Society. But Phi Beta Mu has nothing to do with library and information science: it is, in fact, the International Band Masters’ Fraternity. (Was the typesett er unduly influenced by familiarity with Phi Beta Kappa?) However, the correct entity, Beta Phi Mu, is properly rendered in the ac- knowledgements on page 258. Some very strange typographical errors indicate that either someone in the production cycle was totally ignorant of how to properly divide German words or the hyphenation software could not handle German. On page 73 an incorrect word division—with- out even a hyphen—wrongly splits the long word Feldluftschifferabteiling into two parts, breaking the word in the middle of a syllable: Feldluftschifferabt Index to advertisers ALA Joblist 95 Annual Reviews cover 2 Cambria Press cover 3 CHOICE 2 EBSCO cover 4 Emery-Pratt 77 Intelex 1 Perry Dean Architects 44 and eiling. On page 121, another long word, Arbeitsverteilungsvertrag, is also improperly divided into two halves, Arbeitsv and erteilingsvertrag; again the division occurs in the middle of a syllable, an impossibility in German. In any case, the missplit is also missing its hyphen. On page 261, Schreibmaschinenmanuskript is inexplicably divided aft er its fi rst two letters—another impossible split in Ger- man—and again there is no hyphen. On page 40 an entire line of text has been badly printed, all the words run together with no spaces between them; the same occurs on page 97. The index, obviously the work of an unqualified amateur, is an abomina- tion. Several entries are not in correct alphabetical sequence and some even contain misspellings (e.g., Kalingrad for Kaliningrad, cited within the entry Koe- nigsberg). There are no entries for some important personal names and none for certain concepts vital to understanding Goldberg’s scientific work (e.g., intellectual property rights, even though this topic and other unindexed concepts are discussed at some length in the text). The Deutsches Museum in Munich is mentioned in the text as “the most important technology museum in the world at that time,” but the world-famous institution does not merit an index entry in this technology- centered work. After Goldberg settled in Palestine, he researched the impact of sunlight on home construction materi- als and chose insulating and refl ective components that would provide his family with “comfortable housing,” as indicated in a subheading in the table of contents. Apparently, the “indexer ” simply transferred that heading from the table of contents into the index despite the unsuitability of such a term. Who would look in the index for comfortable housing to- tally isolated from the entry for Goldberg himself? And what of injured leg, another isolated entry that would be a bett er sub- entry under Goldberg’s own name? One index entry reads Bosch (company), but there is another entry for the same entity 88 College & Research Libraries under Robert Bosch (company). But there is no cross reference and, except for one locator, both entries point to the same por- tions of the book. There is a single index entry for DIN 4512, a reference to film speed. But that entry does not relate DIN to the parent organization, the Deutsches Institut für Normung (in translation, the German Standards Institute). There is an index entry for the English name, but none for the German name. The numer- ous index deficiencies are somewhat of an irony, given that Libraries Unlimited has published several editions of a major work on indexing. (It may be gratuitous, however, to observe that this publisher’s book on indexing contains many errors and was itself not well received by profes- sional indexers who reviewed it.) Michael Buckland, a distinguished, internationally renowned scholar has been ill-served by his publisher and by his editor, if indeed there was an editor. There is no acknowledgement of any editorial assistance and little evidence of any real care in preparing the book for the press. Editorially, there is a colossal qualitative difference between Buckland’s meticulously done JASIS article and his book, and the difference substantially favors the former. Goldberg and Buckland deserve far better than they received from Libraries Unlimited and so do scholars, students, and other readers. It is a trav- esty of scholarship that this substantial work on library and information science, likely to be Professor Buckland’s valedic- tory, and issued by one of the principal publishers in the field, should be filled with so many egregious errors, omissions, and other editorial faults. Can one hope that Libraries Unlimited will one day republish this wonderfully informative book with proper, competent editorial support? That is the least that Michael Buckland, Goldberg’s career, and the entire community of scholars of library history and technology deserve. Still, one should not permit these manifest editorial flaws to spoil Profes- sor Buckland’s enormous achievement January 2007 in bringing to light the career of a great scientist who, like many of his German and foreign colleagues, fell victim to the nationalistic madness that virtually destroyed German culture and science between 1933 and 1945. Emanuel Gold- berg has at last received the understand- ing and recognition that his inventive genius deserved but were not possible in his lifetime. Recommended for the libraries of schools of library and information sci- ence, for schools with graduate programs in photographic technology, and for all scholars and students of the history of library technology.—Allen B. Veaner, Tus- con, Arizona. Cronin, Blaise. The Hand of Science: Academic Writing and Its Rewards. Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow, 2005. 214 p. alk. paper, $30 (ISBN 0810852829). LC 2004-24303. Blaise Cronin is a well-known figure in librarianship, often described as an “outspoken library educator,” and Dean of the School of LIS at Indiana. The Hand of Science covers topics such as disciplinary structures and genres of academic writ- ing, exploring and parsing the nature and future of e-journal publishing, collabora- tive authorship, patterns and cultures of citation and acknowledgement, and aca- demic reward systems in nine chapters. In themselves these topics would be of particular interest to academic librarians since they help situate library work and collections within a larger intellectual framework and describes something of our own intellectual environment. He weaves the topics together to give his per- spective and outlook on academic writing and the loop of influence on LIS research and thinking. However, there are some problems with this volume that make it less than useful. I will briefl y outline three of them. First, the book is extremely repetitive. For instance, citations, citation analysis, and related subjects (like “references,” bibliometrics, and acknowledgement