Patrick C. O'Sullivan

Writer's Personal Site

Browsing Posts tagged e-Books

Bit the bullet, bought the iPad, estimated 7-10 days on the web site is actually 19 days according to the order processing software.  Figures.

On a positive note, I went to the doctor today, he said that I am indeed dying but so is everyone else, and it probably won’t be from the problem I went to see him about in my case.  He couldn’t be more specific and recommended that I see an actuary if I wanted a better estimate.  He did say that he has the iPad and really likes it.  He wished that it had a camera and a phone.  I wish it had an earlier ship date.

I’d really like to get an iPad.   My fingers, when they aren’t rehearsing iPhone gestures on a grand scale, stray toward my wallet.   No contact yet, no slide of embossed plastic against age-hardened leather.   I think I know why.

I couldn’t resist the iPhone when it was new.  Or the Mac Mini.  Or the Intel Macbook Pro.  Or the unibody MacBook Pro.   I do not regret those purchases, but still I wonder.  Should I have waited?  Within what seemed like weeks of each purchase there was an even newer model, a model with all the features I really wanted.   Not enough better, or faster, so that I had to buy, but marginally better, so that I found myself wishing, found myself regretting, a tiny bit of satisfaction leaching away each day.

If only I had waited.   Not serious waiting, the sort of waiting where I look up from my Compaq luggable to gape stupidly at a Windows 7 advert before turtling down to Wordstar again, but the sort of groaning, missed it by a few weeks waiting that isn’t productivity damning, but joy-sucking, like picking the wrong lane during rush hour.   The other lane isn’t moving that much faster, is it?  It sure looks like it from here.  A foolish thought, but there you go.

Perhaps this rapid refresh, persistent disappointment cycle is a misperception on my part.  I tend to buy after the fanboy-standing-in-line period and the seven-to-ten day wait vacuum, in that glorious, ephemeral moment of ‘get it in twenty-four hours’ just before the minor upgrade is announced.  Will you lure me in for the fifth time, Apple?  Probably.  But not yet.  Because you fat-fingered my reflexive buy button this time.

I have a Kindle which from day one possessed that most important of attributes, the ability to purchase and download a book at the airport.  Or the hotel lobby.  Or any other place where I have time to kill.  Time that seems to stretch long while I’m trying to connect my laptop to the ‘free’ or extortionarily priced wifi, only to snap back a millisecond before the boarding call is announced or the taxi shows up.   I’m still working up the guts to enter my credit card information when they call my row.

Not so with the Kindle.  It just works.  I can spend my time reading something new, not in repetitive, techno-exploratory-trial-and-error wifi hell.  The staged release of the iPad, the delayed availability of the 3G version, opened my eyes.  Even if I wanted the iPad I would have to wait.

The iPad launch offended me.  It was a violation of a fundamental sales law: sell what you have.  It is an illustration of my business relationship with Apple, exposed in a way that forces me to face it.  Imagine if I had seen the product roadmap for all the products I had purchased over the years and all those I hadn’t, with release dates, specs, and prices all neatly spelled out.

I’d still be hunched over the Compaq.

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Where’d I put my wallet?

I purchased an e-Book from Amazon, a book by a writer I know, a book I was very much looking forward to reading on the long plane flight to presently un-oiled Florida.  I wasn’t disappointed that the Kindle could not display the stunning cover art in color.   I wasn’t disappointed that I couldn’t ruffle through the pages, couldn’t feel them flip against my fingers as I fidgeted, waiting for permission to use my approved electronic device once we attained cruising altitude.  I’ve had a Kindle for years and I expected this.

No, what has my blood boiling is the totally inexcusable formatting of the book itself.  There are two line feeds between paragraphs!

Now, you might say, or whoever is responsible for this abomination might say, “Get over it, chum.  All the words are there”.  Sure they are, and none of the art, or the flow, or what the author intended.

We use white space to signal a change of scene, a temporal change, or some other discontinuity in the narrative.  Imagine an entire book, cut up and parceled out, as if each individual paragraph were the end of a scene.  I didn’t realize just how ingrained the meaning of this white space was in my mind until I tried to read this book.  The writing is very fine, I will buy a copy of the book in paper format so I can read it, but by God, I shouldn’t have to.

I have well over a hundred paid-for e-Books in my Amazon account, books from major publishing houses.  I tell you that the formatting and copy editing of e-Books  for Kindle is an embarrassment.  No decent person, let alone a business person that actually wanted repeat business, would put out such shoddy work.   These are books from major publishers, books that have been electronically edited and set, not scanned-in conversions of ancient out-of-print books where optical character conversion issues might be blamed.   Books that real businesses wish to exchange for my money.

A few typos?  I might accept that.  I’m used to copy editing on the screen and am hyper-sensitive to such errors there.  It could be that the printed versions have these errors and I would miss them.   However, a recent science fiction book I purchased used upper case to indicate that a computer was ’speaking’.  Did the publisher get this right?  NO ThEy dID nOT.  It was inconsistently wrong, so wrong, in fact, that it is impossible for any human capable of reading English not to have noticed.  Irritating, to say the least.   But an entire book of double line feeds between paragraphs?

Correction:  Almost the entire book.  The copyright notice is formatted correctly.

A reasonable person could argue that this e-Book could not have been tested for my device.  Fair enough.  I have the instantaneously obsolete original Kindle, a Kindle 2, Kindle for Mac, Kindle for iPhone, and the DX.   Surely you can guess the results.  Only the original Kindle’s markup capabilities are different enough to affect the display.  But they don’t.

Well, says the hacker deep inside, just change the file yourself, you know, global search and replace.  How hard can it be?

Impossible.  That’s how hard, unless I want to become a copyright violator and troll the web for digital rights management removal software.  And I don’t.  Ever.  And neither should you, says the writer.

This isn’t a blast against Amazon, or the Kindle, or against DRM, or against print publishers.  I still buy paper books, and I pre-order hardcover editions from the authors I like.  I love books in all formats, and I appreciate and understand the challenge of getting them right.  But I won’t buy another e-Book without previewing it first.

Here’s the thing.  I’m not an early adopter when it comes to e-Books.  I’m a reluctant user, a mainstream target market customer for books that happens to travel.  A lot.  I couldn’t fit all the books I read on a typical trip into a suitcase, let alone a carry-on.  Hence the e-Reader, whether it’s Kindle or iPad, or Nook, or Cranny, or whatever else comes out.  I’m a traditional publishing house’s best customer.  And I’m not satisfied.

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Maybe I’ll see what else is out there.