Navigation and the Anxious Clicker
Part II. The Mindset of the User
Most websites are similar in structure for a reason.
That reason has nothing to do with technical limitations. Slow bandwidths, cross-platform problems and clumsy codes may have slowed the rate of website evolution. But the evolution itself has been driven by the needs of the user.
Web users are not passive in the least. When the mouse is in their hands, they enter a unique mindset driven by the properties of the medium itself.
They enter active navigation mode and god help any site that is not created with this in mind.
Navigation mode
Driven by interest and a desire for information, we click click click. Do we have any respect for the finely crafted prose of some corporation? No, we want plain-talking, clearly-signposted, factual copy. And sometimes, if interest is provoked, we might actually read more than a paragraph.
We live on the edge of anticipation of finding something interesting. So that determines what we expect in our sites: choice (links) and depth (pages).
Entering a one-page site with no links can actually feel a little disorienting. It's like rushing into a shop on a Hollywood backlot. After a moment's confusion we turn around and exit through that door same to regain a sense of predictability and control.
Fuel for choice
In our dynamic mouse-clicking state, the basic requirement from a website is a clear indication of how to get around.
In effect, our attitude is brutal: Nothing you can possibly tell me with your fancy, manipulative prose is more important than providing me with a clear means of choice. More succinctly: I will determine what is interesting.
That's why navigation is so important to a website. It's not just handy, it's the prime fuel for the mindset of the user.
So it's vital not to put up roadblocks for that mindset. The user needs to be securely oriented in order to have their web experience. They need to be confident that no matter where they go, the navigation will support them.
So configure a logical, consistent navigation system. Because with the first hint of faulty navigation comes the feeling that sooner rather than later the wheels are going to fall off.
Playing with the map
As we saw in Part 1, when we enter a site we begin mapping the site in our heads.
What do we use to do this? Navigation links. These links announce the main sections of the site. With each new click that skeletal structure is confirmed and it hopefully solidifies in our heads.
If we see a navigation button with the word Products, we have that section at least nominally pegged in our internal map of the site.
So now we click on the Products button and there we are, on the Products page. So far so good. But then we notice something strange. The Products button is highlighted but the buttons around it have changed. For example, the Contact button now reads Shopping Cart.
Our fragile, fledgling map of the main sections is shattered. The hierarchical structure of the site has not only changed, it has changed in an entirely unpredictable way. No longer can we trust relative positioning to get us back to where we feel in control.
Now this scenario might seem unlikely. But many sites, including "major" sites, fall into this kind of trap in more or less subtle ways.
Find the major element
When the position of a major element changes, we certainly notice it. For example, a logo appears at the top left corner of the Homepage then appears at the bottom right on the Contact page.
Annoying, certainly. But how does this affect navigation?
The major elements anchor a page for us. Once we have them internally mapped, we silently depend on them for structural consistency.
Our awareness is attuned to look for the unusual. Threats, problems, the unfamiliar, the unique, the unmapped. Everything else, the predictable and known part of the world, is handled on a level somewhere below normal consciousness. Our attention is then free to notice anything that changes.
On a website that mainly means noticing new content and highlighted links. And that's exactly what we want.
When an element that we've already mapped changes position, it's as if a tree in a cartoon suddenly jumps from the left of screen to the right of screen for no apparent reason.
Again, our trust that we will always be physically oriented is gone.
Now some sites flout this rule on purpose. Each page is a different design. An artwork in itself. Objects move from page to page. These are often design sites or organisations whose credo is to keep their clients off-centre.
It could also be a deliberate emphasis on the concept of the individual page itself. A good example of this is worksight, the website of designer Scott Santoro in New York.
Anticipation
Many designers see navigation as a necessary evil. This relegates it's importance to that of a supporting role.
Navigation structure is actually the fuel for the user's mindset. And that mindset is essentially anticipatory. When we navigate, we anticipate. We form our maps not only based on what we actually find but what we expect to find.
When that stream of anticipation is interrupted, we have to reorient ourselves from step one. And that's really where anxiety enters the picture.
End of Part Two. In Part Three we look more closely at the role anticipation plays in our moment-to-moment experience of the web.Read Part Three
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