A Networked Self. Routledge

Edited by Zizi Papacharissi

 Identity. Community and Culture on Social Network Sites

A Networked Self examines self presentation and social connection in the digital
age. This collection brings together new theory and research on online social
networks by leading scholars from a variety of disciplines. Topics addressed
include self presentation, behavioral norms, patterns and routines, social
impact, privacy, class/gender/race divides, taste cultures online, uses of social
networking sites within organizations, activism, civic engagement and political impact.

Zizi Papacharissi is Professor and Head of the Communication Department
at the University of Illinois-Chicago. She is author of A Private Sphere: Democracy
in the Digital Age and editor of Journalism and Citizenship: New Agendas, also
published by Routledge.


e-books shop
A Networked Self
Identity. Community and Culture on Social Network Sites

About the Editor
Zizi Papacharissi (PhD, University of Texas at Austin, 2000), is Professor and Head
of the Communication Department at the University of Illinois-Chicago.
Her work focuses on the social and political consequences of online media. Her book A Private Sphere: Democracy in a Digital Age (Polity Press, 2010) discusses how online media
redefine our understanding of public and private in late-modern democracies. 
She has published three books and over 40 journal articles, book chapters, or reviews.

Acknowledgments
This edited volume is the result of encouragement, trust, and inspiration from
a variety of colleagues, several of whom are also contributors to the volume.
The editor would like to thank Steve Jones for his suggestions and support. I
also appreciate the encouragement provided by my editor, Matthew Byrnie, to
move forward with a proposal on a volume on social network sites. The day-long
conference that brought contributors to A Networked Self together, and
was hosted by the Department of Communication at the University of Illinois-Chicago,
would not have been possible without the generous endorsement of
the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, and our Dean Dr. Dwight McBride,
and I thank him warmly for his faith in my vision. My research assistant Kelly
Quinn helped preserve sanity at the various planning stages of the volume and
conference, with her knack for planning, insight and thoughtful interventions.
Doctoral candidates at the University of Illinois-Chicago Maggie Griffith and
Gordon Carlson deserve thanks for their help with organizing and chairing sessions
for the Networked Self conference. My colleagues and students at the
University of Illinois-Chicago and Temple University make my everyday
network of interaction fun, and thus provide me with a never-ending source of
energy. Finally, this volume enabled me to collaborate with people whose
work I admire, and to this end, I thank all the volume contributors for being who they are.


Introduction and Keynote to A
Networked Self
Albert-László Barabási

Good morning. Today I’m going to talk about network science. My goal in the
light of the presentations we have today is to offer a rather different perspective:
that is, to argue that many of the things we see in the social environment
are rooted in some fundamental laws that not only social systems obey, but are
obeyed by a wide array of networks. Social systems are one of the most
powerful examples of networks because we understand and relate to them in
an everyday fashion. In a social network the nodes are the individuals and the
links correspond to relationships—who is talking to whom, who is communicating
with whom on a regular basis. What I would like to do today is to
examine how we think about such networks. Let’s assume that you’ve been
given the full set of relationships in a social network website such as Facebook.
How would you analyze the data of such density and richness?
If we think about these types of networks in mathematical terms, we have
to go back to mathematicians Pál Erdo˝s and Alfréd Rényi and the question they
asked about how to model a real network. As mathematicians, they thought of
networks in fundamentally simple terms: nodes and links. But the challenge
for these mathematicians was that they didn’t know how—in nature or society—
nodes decided to link together. So Erdo˝s and Rényi made the assumption
that links are assigned randomly, which means that any two nodes had a
certain probability of being connected, making the network a fundamentally random object.

Since 1960, mathematicians have invested a huge amount of work in understanding
these random networks. As an illustration, if we start with a probability
of p = 0, which means that the probability that any node is connected to
another node is zero, and add new nodes while increasing the probability of a
connection by adding links to the networks, clusters will start to emerge. If
we continue to add more links to the system, at a certain moment these clusters
will start joining each other. This is when the network actually emerges.

So there is this “magical” moment that mathematically takes us from lots of
disconnected clusters to the emergence of what mathematicians call a “giant
component.” When networks emerge through this process, it is very sudden.

So, we find ourselves with two questions. First, is this representation of how a
network emerges correct? And second, what does it mean?
Let’s first address the “What does it mean?” question. One of the premises
of a random network is that if you count how many links each node has, which
we call the “degree of distribution” of the network, you will find a Poisson distribution.
This means that if Facebook was a random network, you would find
that most individuals have approximately the same number of friends, and that
there are only very few individuals who have a very large number of friends or
have no friends whatsoever. In fact, when it comes to their circle of friends,
most individuals would be similar to each other. In a sense, the random
network describes a society that is fundamentally very democratic: everyone

has roughly the same number of friends, and it’s very difficult to find individuals
that are significantly richer or significantly poorer in the terms of their
social ties than the average person. So, despite the randomness by which the
links are placed, the randomness gets averaged out, and in the end we all
become very similar to each other.

Now, we need to question whether this is correct. Do we honestly believe
that real networks—society, the Internet, or other systems—are truly
random, decided by chance? No one would question that there is a large
degree of randomness in the way we make friends and in the way certain
things are connected. But is that all, or is there more to it? To answer this
question, about a decade ago we started to collect large data sets, large maps
of networks, with the idea that we needed to examine real networks to understand
how they actually worked. Our first choice was the World Wide Web, a
large network where nodes and documents were linked using URLs. It wasn’t
a philosophical decision, it was simply available data that we could actually
map out. We started in 1999 from the main page of University of Notre Dame
and followed the links. Then we followed the links on the pages we reached.
It was a terribly boring process, so we built a software to do this—these days,
it is called a search engine. But unlike Google, who runs similar search
engines, we didn’t care about the content of the pages. We only cared about
the links and what they were actually connected to. So at the end of the day,
this robot returned a map in which each node corresponds to a Web page and
the links tell you the connection to another page that can be made with a single click.

What was our expectation? Well, Web pages are created by individuals
who significantly differ from one another. Some people care about social
systems. Others care about the Red Sox or the White Sox, and still others care
about Picasso. And what people put on Web pages reflect these personal interests.
Given the huge differences between us, it’s reasonable to expect that a
very large network would have a certain degree of randomness. And we
expected that when we counted how many links each Web page had, the
network would follow Poisson distribution, as predicted by the random
network model. Surprisingly, however, our results showed something different.
We found a large number of very small nodes with only a few links each,
and a few very highly connected nodes. We found what we call a “power law
distribution.” That is, P(k) ~ k–γ where P(k) is the probability that a node has k
links and is called the “degree exponent.”

What is a power law distribution? A power law distribution appears on a
regular plot as a continuously and gradually decreasing curve. Whereas a
Poisson distribution has an exponentially decaying tail, one that drops off very
sharply, a power law distribution has a much slower decay rate resulting in a
long tail. This means that not only are there numerous small nodes, but that
these numerous small nodes coexist with a few very highly connected nodes, or hubs.

To illustrate, a random network would look similar to the highway system
of the United States, where the cities are the nodes and the links are the highways
connecting them. Obviously, it doesn’t make sense to build a hundred
highways going into a city, and each major city in the mainland U.S. is connected
by a highway. So if you were to draw a histogram of the number of
major highways that meet in major cities, you would find the average to be
around two or three. You wouldn’t find any city that would have a very large
number of highways going in or out. In comparison, a map of airline routes
shows many tiny airports and a few major hubs that have many flights going in
and out; these hubs hold the whole network together. The difference between
these two types of networks is the existence of these hubs. The hubs fundamentally
change the way the network looks and behaves. These differences
become more evident when we think about travel from the east coast to west
coast. If you go on the highway system, you need to travel through many
major cities. When you fly, you fly to Chicago and from Chicago you can reach
just about any other major airport in the U.S. The way you navigate an airline
network is fundamentally different from the way you navigate the highway
system, and it’s because of the hubs.

So we saw that the Web happens to be like the airline system. The hubs are
obvious—Google, Yahoo, and other websites everybody knows—and the
small nodes are our own personal Web pages. So the Web happens to be this
funny animal dominated by hubs, what we call a “scale-free
network.” When I
say “scale-free
network,” all I mean is that the network has a power law distribution;
for all practical purposes you can visualize a network as dominated by
a few hubs. So we asked, is the structure of the Web unique, or are there
other networks that have similar properties?

Take for example the map of the Internet. Despite the fact that in many
people’s minds the Internet and Web are used interchangeably, the Internet is
very different from the Web because it is a physical network. On the Web, it
doesn’t cost any more money to connect with somebody who is next door
than it does to connect to China. But with the Internet, placing a cable
between here and China is quite an expensive proposition.
On the Internet the nodes correspond to routers and the links correspond
to physical cables. Yet, if one inspects any map of the Internet, we see a couple
of major hubs that hold together many, many small nodes. These hubs are
huge routers. Actually, the biggest hub in the United States is in the Midwest,
in a well-guarded
underground facility. We’ll see why in a moment. Thus,
like the Web, the Internet is also a hub-dominated
structure. I want to empha
size that the Web and the Internet are very different animals. Yet, when you
look at their underlying structures, and particularly if you mathematically
analyze them, you will find that they are both scale-free networks.

Let’s take another example. I’m sure everybody here is familiar with the
Kevin Bacon game, where the goal is to connect an actor to Kevin Bacon.
Actors are connected if they appeared in a movie together. So Tom Cruise has
a Kevin Bacon number one because they appeared together in A Few Good Men.
Mike Myers never appeared with Kevin Bacon—but he appeared with Robert
Wagner in The Spy Who Shagged Me, and Robert Wagner appeared with Kevin
Bacon in Wild Things. So he’s two links away. Even historical figures like
Charlie Chaplin or Marilyn Monroe are connected by two to three links to
Bacon. There is a network behind Hollywood, and you can analyze the historical
data from all the movies ever made from 1890 to today to study its structure.
Once again, if you do that, you will find exactly the same power law
distribution as we saw earlier. Most actors have only a few links to other actors
but there are a few major hubs that hold the whole network together. You
may not know the names of the actors with few links because you walked out
of the movie theater before their name came up on the screen. On the other
hand there are the hubs, the actors you go to the movie theater to see. Their
names are on the ads and feature prominently on the posters.

Let’s move to the subject of this conference, online communities. Here,
the nodes are the members. And though we don’t know who they are, their
friends do, and these relationships with friends are the links. There are many
ways to look at these relationships. One early study from 2002 examined
email traffic in a university environment, and sure enough, a scale-free
network emerged there as well. Another studied a pre-cursor to Facebook, a
social networking site in Sweden, and exactly the same kind of distribution
arose there. No matter what measure they looked at, whether people just
poked each other, traded email, or had a relationship, the same picture
emerged: most people had only few links and a few had a large number.
But all the examples I have given you so far came from human-made
systems, which may suggest that the scale-free property is rooted in something
we do. We built the Internet, the Web, we do social networking, we do
email. So perhaps these hubs emerge as something intrinsic in human behavior.
Is it so?
Let’s talk about what’s inside us. One of the many components in humans
is genes, and the role of the genes is to generate proteins. Much of the dirty
work in our cells is done not by the genes, but by the proteins. And proteins
almost never work alone. They always interact with one another in what is
known as protein–protein interaction. For example, if you look in your blood
stream, oxygen is carried by hemoglobin. Hemoglobin essentially is a molecule
made of four proteins that attach together and carry oxygen. The proteins are
nodes in a protein–protein interaction network, which is crucial to how the
cell actually works. When it’s down, it brings on disease. There’s also a metabolic
network inside us, which takes the food that you eat and breaks it down
into the components that the cells can consume. It’s a network of chemical
reactions. So the point is that there are many networks in our cells. On the left-hand
side of this figure is the metabolic network of the simple yeast organism.
On the right-hand side is the protein–protein interaction network. 
In both cases, if you analyze them mathematically you will observe a scale-free
network; visually you can see the hubs very clearly.

When you think about it, this is truly fascinating because these networks
have emerged through a four-billion-year evolution process. 
Yet they converge to exactly the same structure that we observe for our social networks,
which raises a very fundamental question. How is it possible that cells and
social networks can converge with the same architecture?
One of the goals of this talk is to discuss the laws and phenomena that are
recurrent in different types of networks, summarizing them as organizing principles.
The first such organizing principle is the scale-free property which
emerges in a very large number of networks. For our purposes, it just simply
means that many small nodes are held together by a few major hubs. Yet,
there is a second organizing property that many of you may be aware of, often
called either the “six degrees” or the “small world” phenomenon. The idea
behind it is very straightforward: you pick two individuals and try to connect
them. For example, Sarah knows Ralph, Ralph knows Jason, Jason knows
Peter, so you have a three-handshake distance between Sarah and Peter. This
phenomenon was very accurately described in 1929 by the Hungarian writer
Frigyes Karinthy, in a short story that was published in English about two years
ago and translated by a professor at UIC, Professor Adam Makkai. The idea
entered the scientific literature in 1967 thanks to the work of Stanley Milgram,
who popularized the “six degrees of separation” phrase after following the path
of letters sent out from a particular town.

No matter what network you look at, the typical distances are short. And
by short we mean that the average separation between the nodes is not a function
of how many nodes the network has, but rather the logarithm of the
number of nodes, which is a relatively small number. This is not a property of
social networks only. We see it in the Web. We see it in the cell. We see it in
all different types of networks. The small world phenomenon is important
because it completely destroys the notion of space. Indeed, two people can be
very far away if you measure their physical distance. And yet, when you look
at the social distance between them, it is typically relatively short.
Now let’s come back to the central question that I raised earlier. I have
given several examples of networks that were documented to be scale-free.
How is it possible that such different systems—the Web, the Internet, the
cell, and social networks—develop a common architecture? What’s missing
from the random network model that doesn’t allow us to capture the features
of these networks? Why are hubs in all these networks?

To answer these questions, we must return to the random model, to Erdo˝s
and Rényi’s hypothesis, which contains several assumptions that you might not
have noticed. Their model depicts a society of individuals by placing six billion
dots on a screen and connecting them randomly. But their fundamental
assumption is that the number of nodes remains unchanged while you are
making the connections. And I would argue that this is not necessarily correct.
The networks we see have always gone through, and continue to go through,
an expansion process. That is, they are always adding new nodes, and this
growth is essential to the network.

Let’s inspect the Web. In 1991 there was only one Web page out there,
Tim Berners-Lee’s famous first page. And now we have more than a trillion.
So how do you go from one to more than a trillion nodes? The answer is one
node at a time, one Web page at a time, one document at a time, whether a
network expands slowly or fast, or does so node-by-node. So if we are to
model the Web, we can’t just simply put up a trillion nodes and connect
them. We need to reproduce the process by which the network emerged in
the first place. How would we do that? Well you assume that there is growth
in the system, by starting with a small network and adding new nodes, and
somehow connecting the new nodes to existing nodes.
The next question that comes up right away: how do we choose where to
connect the node? Erdo˝s and Rényi actually gave us the recipe. They said,
choose it randomly. But this is an assumption that is not borne out by our data.
It turns out that new nodes prefer to link to highly connected nodes. The Web
is the best example. There are a trillion pages out there. How many do you
know personally? A few hundred, maybe a thousand? We all know Google and
Yahoo, but we’re much less aware of the rest of the trillion which are not so
highly connected. So our knowledge is biased toward pages with more connections.
And when we connect, we tend to follow our knowledge. This is
what we call “preferential attachment” and simply means that we can connect
to any node, but we’re more likely to connect to a node with a higher degree
than to one with a smaller degree. It’s probabilistic: the likelihood of me connecting
to a certain Web page is proportional to how many links that page
already has. This is often called the “Matthew Effect” from Merton’s famous
paper, and is also sometimes called “cumulative advantage.” The bottom line is
that there is a bias toward more connected nodes. If one node has many more
links than another, new nodes are much more likely to connect to it. So, big
nodes will grow faster than less connected nodes.
One of the most beautiful discoveries of random network theory is that if
we keep adding links randomly, at a certain moment a large network will suddenly
emerge. But the model discussed above suggests a completely different
phenomenon: the network exists from the beginning, and we just expand it.
There is no magic moment of the emergence of the network. In evolving
network theory, we look at the evolution of the system rather than the sudden
emergence of the system. So if we take this model and grow many nodes, you
will find that the emerging network will be scale-free
and the hubs will naturally
emerge. This is the third organizing principle: hubs emerge via growth
and preferential attachment.
Now let’s be realistic. There are lots of other things going on in a complex
networked system in addition to those I have just described. One thing we
learned mathematically is that as long as the network is growing, and as long as
there is some process that generates preferential attachment, a network is scale-free.

Thus, one of the reasons there are so many different networks that are scale-free
is because the criteria for their emergence is so minimal.
The next question that naturally comes up concerns one of this model’s
predictions: the earliest nodes in the network become the biggest hubs. And
the later the arrival, the less chance a node has to become big. There is way of
mathematically expressing this occurrence: each node increases its degree as
the square root of time. This means that the longer you are in the system, the
more connected you are. So, can any of us become hubs if we are late-comers?
Well, there are obvious examples of this happening. Google was a relative
latecomer to the WWW and yet it’s the biggest hub today. 
So, how can you be a late-comer
and become very highly connected? Is there a mechanism for this?
One way to describe the Google phenomenon is with the concept of fitness.
What is fitness? Fitness is the node’s ability to attract links. It’s not the likelihood
of finding a Web page, but rather once you’ve found a Web page, it’s
the probability that you will connect to it. It’s not the chance of running into a
person. But once you’ve met the person, will you want to see him or her
again? Thus, fitness is the ability to attract links after these random encounters.
To model the impact of fitness, we assign a parameter for each node which
represents its ability to compete for links. You can build it into preferential
attachment, because now the likelihood that you will connect to a certain node
is the product of the fitness and the number of links. The number of links is
there because it tells us how easy it is to find the node. If a node is very highly
connected, it is easy to bump into it. But the fitness tells me the likelihood that
I will actually link to it, once I find it.
If you solve this fitness-driven
model analytically, you will find that each
node will increase its links following a power law, but the exponent by which
the node grows is unique to the node. What does this mean? It means that
there’s a possibility for a node to come in late with a higher fitness and grow
faster than the earlier-arriving
nodes. Now, if the fitness of the new node is
only marginally higher than the other nodes, it will take a long time to catch
up. But if it’s significantly higher, then the node will actually grow larger than
any of the others. One of the reasons it’s so hard to beat Google today—that
is, to grow as large as Google is as a late-comer—
is that there has to be a significantly
higher fitness to overcome the time lag.

Fitness also makes a somewhat disturbing prediction, allowing for the possibility
of a “winner takes all” situation. In the language of physics, this is what
we call a “Bose–Einstein condensation,” and simply means that a node with
significantly higher fitness will grab all the links. As the network grows, this
node will completely dominate the system, much more so than a hub in a scale-free
network. Let me explain the difference between a scale-free
network and a “winner takes all” network. In a scale-free network, as the
network expands, the market share of the biggest hub will decrease in time.
That is, even though the biggest hub will get larger and larger, the fraction of
the total links in the full network that connect to it will slowly decay. In a case
where you have a “winner takes all” situation, the market share of the biggest
hub will remain constant. An example is the Windows operating system,
which has an 85% market share in operating systems. That’s a winner takes all
situation because its share has stayed relatively constant over that of Apple and
Linux. So, to summarize, competition in networks is driven by fitness; the
fittest nodes are the ones who will turn slowly into hubs. So it’s very important
to think about where fitness comes from. And, obviously, if you want to
compete, you need to think about how to increase your fitness.
The next questions that come up are, “So what—should we even care?” and
“Do these hubs have any consequences that are important?” It turns out that
there are many consequences. One is illustrated by the concept of robustness,
which means that complex systems maintain their basic functions even under
errors and failures. For example, in my cells there are many errors. Yet I can
carry on speaking, despite the fact that something in my cells has gone wrong.
Another example is the Internet, where at any time hundreds of routers are
not working, yet the Internet still functions. So how do we think about the
concept of robustness in the network context? Well, we can model a network
and see what happens when a couple of nodes break down or disappear from
the system. For a very large random network, we can delete randomly chosen
nodes to see how the network will support that process. There is a very
precise mathematical prediction about random networks that says that if you
start removing nodes, you will reach a critical point at which the network will
fall apart. That is, every random network and every regular network, like a
square lattice or triangular lattice, will have this critical point. By removing
more nodes than this critical threshold, the network will break apart; it is unavoidable.

What happens in a scale-free
network? It turns out that we can remove a
significant fraction of the nodes without breaking it apart. What’s going on
here? By randomly removing the nodes, in a scale-free network we are typically
removing small nodes, because there are so many of them. The probability
of removing a hub is very low, as there are only a few hubs. Yet, removing a
small node just means the network becomes slightly smaller. It shrinks, but
doesn’t fall apart. In fact, we can remove 98% of the nodes in a large scale-free
network, and the remaining 2% will stay together and continue to communicate.
There is a built-in robustness to this network because of the
hubs—but there’s also a price to pay. What if we remove nodes not randomly,
but in an attack mode? That is, we remove the biggest hub, the next biggest
hub, and so on. In this case the network breaks into pieces very quickly. Scale-free
networks have this amazing property of robustness to random failures,
but they are also very fragile. If we know what the system looks like, we can
destroy it very easily. This is why the Midwest router is so heavily protected.
And so our fourth organizing property of scale-free
networks becomes robustness
against failure with vulnerability to attack.

What about communities within networks? We know that most networks
are full of communities or groups of nodes that tend to connect more to each
other than we would expect randomly. We can visualize these as groups of
people in the same class or department, who all know each other. But the
existence of these communities produces a tension with the scale-free
property of networks. The scale-free
property suggests that we have a few hubs
that hold the whole network together, and the communities suggest that there
are relatively isolated groups of nodes that work independently.
So can we bring the two together? It turns out we can, but it implies
another constraint on the network, what we call a “hierarchical network.” To
illustrate a hierarchical network, let’s begin with a small community and
create four copies of it, connecting each with the previous one. Repeat this
again and again. It turns out that this network has a hierarchical structure that
can be mathematically measured. It has signatures that are present in many
networks—social networks, the Web, and the Internet. The smaller communities
are highly interconnected, while the larger communities are less
dense. As communities get larger, they become less dense and they connect to
each other in a hierarchical fashion.

Networks exist for a reason. They spread ideas; they spread knowledge;
they spread influence. What happens if you give a piece of information to an
individual, who passes it on to friends, who then pass it on to their friends,
and so on? What does this information network look like? Let me show you an
example. This figure shows a small neighborhood in a fully anonymized phone


Table of Contents
Acknowledgments viii
Introduction and Keynote to A Networked Self
Albert-László Barabási
Part I
Context: Communication Theory and Social
Network Sites 15
1 Interaction of Interpersonal, Peer, and Media Influence
Sources Online: A Research Agenda for Technology
Convergence 17
Joseph B. Walther, Caleb T. Carr, Scott Seung W. Choi,
David C. De Andrea, Jinsuk Kim, Stephanie Tom Tong,
AND Brandon Van Der Heide
2 Social Network Sites as Networked Publics: Affordances,
Dynamics, and Implications 39
danah boyd
3 Social Networking: Addictive, Compulsive, Problematic,
or Just Another Media Habit? 59
Robert La Rose, Junghyun Kim, and Wei Peng
4 Social Network Exploitation 82
Mark Andrejevic
Part II
Social Textures: Emerging Patterns of Sociability
on Social Network Sites 103
5 Social Network Sites as Virtual Communities 105
Malcolm R. Parks
6 With a Little Help from My Friends: How Social
Network Sites Affect Social Capital Processes 124
Nicole B. Ellison, Cliff Lampe, Charles Steinfield,
and Jessica Vitak
7 From Dabblers to Omnivores: A Typology of Social
Network Site Usage 146
Eszter Hargittai and Yu-Li Patrick Hsieh
8 Exploring the Use of Social Network Sites in the
Workplace 169
Mary Beth Watson - Manheim
Part III
Convergent Practices: Intuitive Appropriations
of Social Network Site Affordances 183
9 United We Stand? Online Social Network Sites and Civic
Engagement 185
Thomas J. Johnson, Weiwu Zhang, Shannon L. Bichard,
and Trent Seltzer
10 Between Barack and a Net Place: Motivations for Using
Social Network Sites and Blogs for Political Information 208
Barbara K. Kaye
11 Working the Twittersphere: Microblogging as
Professional Identity Construction 232
Dawnr .Gilpin
12 Look At Us: Collective Narcissism in College Student
Facebook Photo Galleries 251
Andrew L. Mendelson and Zizi Papacharissi
13 Copyright, Fair Use, and Social Networks 274
Patricia Aufderheide
14 Artificial Agents Entering Social Networks 291
Nikolaos Mavridis
Conclusion: A Networked Self 304
Zizi Papacharissi
About the Editor 319
List of Contributors 320
Index 325


Screenshot

e-books shop

Purchase Now !
Just with Paypal



Product details
 Price
 Pages
 337 p
 File Size
 2,045 KB
 File Type
 PDF format
 ISBN
 0-203-87652-0
 Copyright
 2011 Taylor & Francis 
  ●▬▬▬▬▬❂❂❂▬▬▬▬▬●
●▬▬❂❂▬▬●
●▬❂▬●

═════ ═════

Previous Post Next Post