iPad/Pod/Phone as ereader: No, no, not for me

There’s some debate about whether the iPad/Pod/Phone should be considered an ereader. I do not consider it such and it’s likely I never will. Here is an experience I had that demonstrates why.

On my way to work, standing on the train platform, I wanted to read a book I’d bought and downloaded some time ago. I took out my iPhone, launched my Kobo app and started to read. But I couldn’t get more than three pages without it crashing back to the home screen. I checked the App Store and there was an update to this app. I tried to update the app, but it informed me I was logged into the wrong App Store account. I went into my iPhone settings, logged out, logged back in again, and tried to update the app again.

This time it said I had to agree to new iTunes terms and conditions to continue. Leaving aside that I had at no point done anything with iTunes, I grudgingly clicked Okay (because there was no other button to press.) By this time I was on the train, we went through a tunnel and it timed out before I could agree. I tried again, and was able to approve the conditions. I tried to update the app for the third time, and when the train stopped moving it found enough 3G to download the update. It lagged a bit during the install, but finally it was done.

I launched the app again. Due to the update it had logged me out of my Kobo account. I was able to log in, but it had deleted all my purchased books and I had to download them again. When I did that and clicked on the book I’d wanted to read, it took me to the last page of the chapter I’d been reading. That read (by accident) I flipped back through the pages to find where I’d been.

By this point I’d arrived at work. I’d logged in to a few accounts, downloaded an update, re-downloaded books, and agreed to a hell of a lot of terms and conditions. And what I hadn’t done was read the bloody book, even though it was apparently all set up to read before I started.

Some people might say this is all the fault of the Kobo app, and it’s true that if it hadn’t been buggy I would have been reading for an hour rather than battling my iPhone. But it wasn’t just that app (designed by a company who have their own dedicated ereader.) It was the combination of long processes of many applications and operating systems working (and not working) together to verify and antagonize me into frustration. None of it had anything to do with reading. I was connected to the internet more often than not, to read a book I’d already downloaded.

The iPad/Pod/Phone allows you to read ebooks, but as a bonus rather than its main function. Its lack of dedication to the process means that to me it is a gadget that also reads ebooks, rather than an ereader. And that’s not likely to change.

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Photos: The New Reading by Dave Walker, and #3/100 by northnorthwest (me) on flickr

Friday Flash: "For Your Safety & Security"

"For Your Safety & Security"
by Jen Brubacher
Here is the formula: one hundred students with backpacks the size of younger siblings strapped to their shoulders. Each from a foreign country, but they know how to find their platform, which is more than can be said of the three hundred tourist travellers just arrived on the Heathrow Express, dragging suitcases on stiff handles, taking directions in turn: It’s this way. No, it isn’t. They carve out a five-pointed star with their hesitation. These stars come in clusters and their children orbit as asteroids, their collisions lit up against the grey.

Locals shot from their own guns are scattered through the shortest distance between two points and ricocheted by the crowd. Beneath their breath comes the muttered chant, Just get out of my way, the least effective line in the incantation. Scuffed rainbow stripes on the floor make helpful suggestions towards Bakerloo and Circle, their whispers unchanged since the 1960s, while neon uniforms hold their arms up for attention. “Make ‘em fan out!” one conductor calls as the herd fails to comply. Voices blend and heat rises towards the curved glass ceiling where it percolates and drifts. This is the formula, ingredients in full. As a woman wobbles on too-high heels at the edge of a platform, as a suit looks on and a burqa closes her eyes, the spell is nearly complete.

From beneath the station comes a mumble as something cracks loose of its foundations. This is a creature that hasn’t moved since the Romans set a village on fire to make way for a road. Stretching coal-black wings to the tune of chaos, the scent of frustration licks at its nose. All is ready. The moment is ripe. It prepares to ascend and devour, to lay its roof to waste, but then it holds, confused by distant summons: Mind the gap. Mind the gap.

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Photo: A train to catch by Rohit Rath on flickr

Writing is... Truth

I've been wanting to write about this for some time, and conveniently Icy Sedgwick tagged me in a meme that means I get to state what writing means to me. So here I go.

Writing is truth. Here I'm talking about fiction writing, because non-fiction can be any sort of lie you'd like to present along with a well-constructed argument. But fiction itself, if it's good, contains truths that are far stronger and deeper than any debate. They're truths we all feel and understand: what it is to be alive, the value of love and loyalty, the balance between judgment and forgiveness--Good fiction will remind you that you're human.

I saw X-Men: First Class this weekend and I really enjoyed it. This is not entirely unsurprising, as I've been a fan of X-Men since I first saw Gambit throw an exploding card. But what hit me as I considered the film afterwards was that although we were presented with a dozen mutants with powers like mind-control, shapeshifting and flipping any metal around the room like it weighed nothing, that wasn't what was so great about the film. What made it great was the emotional conflict. The constant debate between the mutants (the people) and within themselves about what made them human, what set them apart, and whether it was worthwhile to be "good."

That's classic stuff. It's a film about mutants with superpowers, and the most interesting and affecting central conflict was about what it means to be human. That's honest, it's good writing, and it transcends the vehicle of the plot and the medium in which it's delivered. It will feel true no matter if it's presented by Hamlet or Professor X, and whether we hear it over the radio or in agonizing 3D. That's the power of truth.

Since I've managed to use a comic book adaptation to demonstrate my point I may as well keep digging and head on to video games. My other example of truth is a quote from the RPG Dragon Age, from the last battle. A certain drunken dwarf says goodbye, good luck, and:

"Let us show them our hearts, and then show them theirs."

Yes, it's about battle. Yes, you can imagine ripping the heart out of someone's chest, but that's not where my mind went. I hear that line and I think of what it is to show someone what I'm really made of, the real core of my being, and then show someone else what they're made of, how they really think and feel about things--and the best way I know to do both of those things is through my writing. Good writing is a mirror, and it shows us what we might not notice from day to day. Real, honest things. The truth.

There's my convoluted pop-culture-laced answer to the question. And now I'll tag a few more writers. You're it. Tell me: what is writing to you?

Ev Bishop
Anthony Venutolo
Jodi Cleghorn
Benjamin Solah

Betraying your audience for a good cause

Throughout this year A Gay Girl in Damascus has been blogging about the Syrian government's treatment of its residents and Arab Spring protesters. She gained quite a following. Then she disappeared, and a friend came onto the blog to report that she'd been captured by armed security services. Everyone paid attention. Even the US State Department investigated. So yesterday it was revealed that Gay Girl in Damascus is actually Some Guy from the states.

There's really nothing more "internet" than a young gay girl turning out to be a 40 year old guy, even if he is a Middle East peace activist trying to bring attention to a lack of human rights. The Washington Post article asserts that, "The hoax raises difficult questions about the reliance on blogs, tweets, Facebook postings and other Internet communications." Fine, of course it does, though it also brings attention to how much easier it has become to discover false aliases.

So Tom MacMaster was writing fiction, or creative non-fiction if you believe that there are people like Amina Arraf in the world right now (and you should.) For those who believed that she was gay, that she lived where she lived and suffered as she did, the person they thought they knew through her blog is a lie. And of course that's going to sting. It's true that we accept that kind of lie all the time, in fiction as well as non-fiction. Writers are constantly presenting other people, imaginary people designed to affect readers' emotions and opinions. And it's usually okay, usually actually invited, unless they feel manipulated. In this case, pretending for a moment that it's straightforward fiction, readers are damn well feeling manipulated.

MacMaster says,

"While the narrative voice may have been fictional, the facts on this blog are true and not misleading as to the situation on the ground. I do not believe that I have harmed anyone--I feel that I have created an important voice for issues that I feel strongly about."

This case is not straightforward because people were viewing it as a kind of journalism. It was meant to be truth happening right now, and that immediacy upped the importance of viewing Amina as a real person, a real specific discrete person, and not a "voice" or a representative of a group. If you bought into that then there was something at stake beyond the thrill of the story and education about the situation: her life. It's unfair to expect readers to set that aside. True, MacMaster hasn't harmed anyone, but no doubt he has affected the perception of his readers so that next time they feel that sort of empathy they'll question its validity. Or not feel it at all.

In late 2009 I discovered Fourth Fiction, "the first blog-based literary reality show." The idea was that several anonymous writers did a new writing challenge every few days to complete a novella. Every challenge the readers of the blog got to vote for their favourite, and the least favourite stopped writing. It went for a while, and the community of writers and readers became close. When we arrived at the winner, however, it was revealed that every writer was the same. One person, Constantine Markides, was "performing" as each writer/blogger. The competition was really between himself and himself.

And readers were staggered. The reaction was a combination of confusion, admiration and anger. Some people complimented him on his talent, other people stated they'd never take part in such a farce again. If they could help it, that was. It was an art project, a betrayal of trust, and a learning experience. And that was just a reality show.

Considering everything, I'm grudgingly satisfied that neither Constantine nor Tom MacMaster have done anything really wrong in the blogosphere. I am glad for efforts that encourage people to think more about what they read, its origins and intentions. These are skills that must be developed if we're to appreciate the valuable medium blogging provides, without dismissing it as too much of a risk.

But of course it is a risk. And I do hope that the honest voices can be heard above the rest.

Edited to say: If you have an opinion about this matter please pile it on here in the comments. I get more and more annoyed with every extra thing I hear about what Tom MacMaster did to perpetuate his fiction.

Some things I wonder: did he ever intend to reveal the truth, or was that an accident? Which better helps his cause: the truth, or his fiction? Did he pretend she was kidnapped because he realized he was over his head, or to add extra drama? His last blog post is too brief to give us any real answers.

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Photo: Audience HDR by Gamma-Ray Productions on flickr, & thanks to fiona_of_zhadum for the links

Computers in libraries: a mistake

It has been three months since my last exasperated post about public libraries, so I guess it's time, right? Because the brand new Children's Laureate Julia Donaldson has said,

“I thought it was a shame when so many computers were brought into libraries – adults using them for playing card games, teenagers looking at [questionable] websites, I thought that was a mistake."

Oh dear. It's difficult to be angry at her, however, because she also qualifies her opinion by saying,

“I might get into hot water by saying this, but I would love to see more [investment] going into stocking children’s titles, even at the expense of adult sections. But part of my job is to create a stink.”

She's right, and not just about the hot water: being Children's Laureate is pretty literally about promoting children's literature, and this is what she’s trying to do. But I can be a bit annoyed, because her statements—while they might appeal to people and parents who are already frustrated that their children's libraries are turning into internet cafes—show a narrow-minded view of the use of libraries, and the last thing libraries need right now (particularly in the UK) is narrow-minded views about their potential uses.

More strange is that Donaldson says in the very same interview that libraries aren't just about books, that they’re also for "all the pre-school things that make children ripe for learning." Yet somehow her perspective doesn’t allow for things that help them learn later in life, such as access to study materials? Very peculiar.

Presumably in Donaldson’s ideal library there would be books for all the children who want to read them, and enough to entice all the children who aren’t yet sure. It’s a beautiful ideal. I’ve seen it described in comments on many articles about changing libraries, modern versus traditional libraries. The consensus in these comments seems to be that few people want nasty computers when lovely books would be so much more… lovely.

But I don’t work in an ideal library. I work in a real one. And the consensus as dictated by the real library with its real patrons is that we don’t have enough computers to satisfy demand. They want more. Now, I realize this is only the opinion of people who are actually using the library, and not the opinion of people living in the realm of nostalgia or ideal, but still—a valid opinion I'd say, as far as planning for the future of library use.

I love books. I really, really want enough books for all the children. I mean all the children in the world, ever. And I’m actually glad that Donaldson is fulfilling her role as Children’s Laureate by promoting children’s fiction and getting people riled about the idea, because I love passion about reading and I’m thrilled when people pay attention to what’s going on in public libraries. I’m certainly under no delusion that Donaldson is someone who stays away from libraries except when nostalgia grips her. I think it’s pretty obvious that she’s not. But I do wish she’d been less flippant with her accusations at adults and teens, rather than adding to the clamour about nasty computers in libraries.

A lot of that clamour is not well-researched or steady-headed, and it isn’t directed at improving libraries. It’s knee-jerk frustration from people who perhaps hadn’t been to their public library in some time and have suddenly realized that it isn’t the place they visited as a child. The world has changed and access to information has changed, but it’s still as important as ever. Public libraries cannot ignore broad groups of people—eg. people who do not have access to a computer or the internet*** except at their library—even if that means that some of the budget is taken from children’s books and programming.

Children grow up, after all. They should not be ignored at any age.

*** Let’s be clear: the internet is email and social networking, it’s a job search and writing your CV, it’s finding out about housing benefits and house-hunting abroad, and it’s studying for an exam, or researching a paper. Sometimes it’s Facebook and sometimes it’s Twitter, and sometimes it’s the FT online or the Daily mail. Often it’s news stories and often it’s LOLcats. It’s lottery numbers and sports scores. Occasionally it’s even buying children’s books on Amazon. Blogs full of opinions, and other "questionable" sites. There’s reading books, searching a library catalogue or searching for Googlewhacks. Legal advice and garbage pick-up notices. Addresses for nurseries and available college scholarships. The internet is vast, irritating, and arguably essential if you’re looking for information. It has a place in libraries and it isn’t going away.

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Photos: and so it begins by Chris Radcliff and Library automation 5 by quisnovus on flickr

Death of 99,000 cuts

The other day in a fit of frustration I posted the tweet,

"Writing a synopsis. Is there no greater hell than to boil one's MS down to a few hundred words?"

And I was immediately drowned in a deluge of @ replies, all along the lines of: "No. No no no. No no. No."

So what is it like to boil your MS down to a few hundred words:

• The forced bonsai-tree paring of something alive and beautiful into a stunted twig?
• Mashing a favourite outfit into a too-small suitcase and knowing you'll never get the creases out?
• Being handed a scalpel and told your left leg just has to go, but the way it goes is up to you?

Pick your favourite and let me know. But in any case, it is hell. For writers who spend months or possibly years choosing every word in a 100,000 word story, removing one thousand can be difficult. Removing ten thousand is an agony. Removing 99,000 or so, without destroying its essence? Oh, har har.

But this is a valuable exercise, they tell us. This shows us what we're writing about. The story we're actually trying to tell. Remove all the action, the dialogue and the wanky prose and you've got the real thing. This is something you should do even if you don't need to present your synopsis to an agent. And if this was the kind of blog post meant to inspire you to quit your browser and stab into your work with a scalpel, with a microscope, to examine and realize and shape an epiphany into a blurb that will land you the greatest publishing deal ever, then I might at this point start listing all the ways that creating a synopsis is valuable for every writer and every project. Why it can change your book, your writing skills, even your life.

It isn't that kind of post. This is just the kind of post that says, I lamented this effort and realized I was not alone. You aren't alone either. Writing a synopsis kind of sucks. Sometimes it kind of really sucks. And there it is. Here we are. What else is there to say?

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Photo: Bonsai importado de Caruaru by Kenneth F Andrade on flickr