Terra Forma: A Book of Speculative Maps

Abstract

the coherence of the collection. (For some reason “Q” and “X” have been snubbed, although there are plenty of objects that could fit the agenda). Each of the 85 essays has at least one key image of the “object” and gives some account as to why it is no longer as prevalent as it once was. There is an introductory essay by the editors intended to outline the argument of the book. Largely this is based on correlation rather than causality, and indeed inasmuch as extinction is a condition that prevails after the death of the last individual specimen it is difficult to reconcile this with the continued existence and indeed functioning of many of the examples that have been chosen. The idea of extinction might have had more purchase if Williams’s distinction between technological systems and technological devices had been factored in. However, overall the critical framework of the introduction invokes much of the sentiment of the authors cited at the beginning of this review, but the argument is slippery, and at times there is a sense that technology studies has been somewhat reimagined away from the literature. There is also a sense of a cargo cult in the way that many of the key images appear as perfectly crafted product photographs. Rather like an auction catalogue in that they reveal precise detail in ways that are purposely deprived of meaning. Similarly, most of the essays are straightforward and have great charm, and the book is great fun to dip in and out of. The standout essays are of course by Edgerton. Nothing could be more resonant of misapplied endeavor than a huge plane pretending to be a boat. But as his careful study of the flying boat makes clear, when the capital costs of infrastructure (i.e. runways) are devolved to the carrier, landing on open water is possibly the only sensible option for long haul heavy payloads. Moreover, he points out that the history of the flying boat is not quite over, since they are still built and used in some circumstances. It seems that Howard Hughes’s infamous Spruce Goose is not quite the exorbitant vanity project that Hollywood suggests. Many of the essays are more personal, and Richard Wentworth’s piece on the slotted screwdriver is one of the more heartfelt. He reflects on his own relationship with the demise of the slothead screw in favor of the crosshead version which, as his son points out, is becoming dominant in the building trade because they speed up the process. For many years it has been clear in fabrication that connecting a star shaped driver is quicker and requires less precision than aligning a flat bladed screwdriver with a slot. The new screws may be expensive, but they are fast, self-countersinking, made of hardened steel, and do not shear. They may not be the best technical solution, but technological form, in the main, prioritizes production imperatives over consumer needs. This new screw needs a special star driver, so good luck trying to take them out after twenty years when they are corroded—no deft recutting of the slot with a hacksaw blade will help here. Reading the reviews of Extinct, it seems the book has caught the imagination, and it is not surprising. Many reviewers seem to have seen it as a license to construct “selfies” and to tell stories of an individual past. If not history, then an opportunity for some folksy auto-ethnography opens up the pleasures that this kind of nearhistory topic can stimulate. Although “Concorde died because of a catastrophic and spectacular technological failure” may grate with the ANT and the STC community, along with “the moment of invention,” for the most part Extinct has purposes and avoids the lazy journalism that discussing technology seems to encourage. It is also to be commended that beyond that pleasure of self-recognition there is an attempt to expand the idea of technology beyond its current narrow meaning as the next “new digital thing.” It also points to the ongoing struggle facing technology studies in its efforts to bring to the fore the critical issues of agency and decisionmaking in relation to those technologies that we choose to use and those that we decline. After 60 years of advocacy (in some amazingly accessible books and films), the determining agency of the user in shaping technological form still seems to be invisible in the dazzle of the headlights of the future and the soft-focus sepia tones of the past.