We adults live in a linear world in which we grew up with pen and paper and printed books and now wait impatiently (eagerly or with trepidation), wondering when digital is going to replace all of that. As if the flow is all one way and inevitable. But Josie lives in the world of now. In her world, people use fountain pens to write for recreation. They use phones to talk and text and email. They gather for family dinners and talk about their dreams and desires. Printed books and digital books are different experiences that nestle comfortably alongside each other. Live theater is as thrilling as a 3-D movie. Sometimes you sing and dance and sometimes you listen to your iPod.
Josie teaches me to live in the land of Now. To be grateful for the ways that I can reach out electronically without giving up nestling in front of the fire with a hardcover novel. When I read the debates between Kindle lovers and the devotees of printed books, I think of Josie and think that we are being very foolish.
Tag Archives: Books
The effect of technology on reading
2: Death of a Department Chair
Death of a Department Chair by Lynn C. Miller
If I recall correctly, this was an actual remainder table book, which I picked up because it was a mystery set at a university, and thus I thought it might be amusing. It seemed apropos to read it when I finished my comps.
Not the worst book I’ve ever read, but otherwise this review is pretty accurate. It was a slog. I did finish it, by reading one chapter at a time. It suffered from many, many beginning writer problems. The characters were introduced with police blotter descriptions that were supposed to show how different they were, when in fact, they were indistinguishable aside from names–I did a lot of “who?” *flip, flip, flip* “ohh.”
Also not a fan of the experimental pov switches. A better writer might have been able to make this work, but it did not work here. The “journal entries” were totally unrealistic. I could continue, but you get the idea.
Miller is a theater professor, which helps explain some of the book’s issues (especially the lack of characterization). The story may have worked better as a play, since actors would be able to add nuance to the characters.
For balance, here is a more positive take.
1: The Line Painter
The Line Painter by Claire Cameron
This one came from the VPL Book Sale this spring. Here’s proof:
I picked it up because I remembered Cameron’s name from Bookninja (moment of silence), where she was a contributor. Ok, weirdly, as I go to Bookninja to get the link, I see that the last thing posted before its demise was this:
Do you think that might have influenced my purchase? I think it did! Anyhow, here’s the book’s page on Cameron’s website, with description, excerpt, video interview, and links to reviews. (Yeesh, she’s making this too easy ;))
I’d describe The Line Painter as being very movie-like. It’s focused: there are just a few key characters, a few settings. Minimalist, in a good way (you’re focused on what’s happening, not keeping track of who’s who). It’s suspenseful, but not overly plotty. The main story plays out over a few days, but with flashbacks to fill in the backstory.
I read it while visiting my family in the Okanagan in July. It actually turned out to the be the perfect read. I read it over several nights of before-bed reading and finished it within the week (just in time to go back to comps reading—gah, let’s not dredge that up ;)). That The Line Painter was able to grab and hold my attention at a time when my brain was being pulled in multiple directions gets it two thumbs up (or 4 stars at Goodreads). Definitely look forward to her next novel.
A single rich document
The codex is built for nonlinear reading – not the way a Web surfer does it, aimlessly questing from document to document, but the way a deep reader does it, navigating the network of internal connections that exists within a single rich document like a novel. Indeed, the codex isn’t just another format, it’s the one for which the novel is optimized. The contemporary novel’s dense, layered language took root and grew in the codex, and it demands the kind of navigation that only the codex provides.
My reading time would just feel like work time
I don’t have an electronic reader, or whatever those are called. I’m still old school and I like holding the pages. Also, I look at a computer screen and a blackberry all f-cking day. I need some separation from that, and I feel like if I were to read off one of those future readers, my reading time would just feel like work time. So I’m a relic.
Exhausting
This is going to sound incredibly lazy, like someone who gets in their car to drive a few blocks rather than walk, but the physicality of the book, having to hold it open then lift and turn each page, was a lot more exhausting than I remembered. All of that holding and lifting and turning distracted me from the act of reading, took me out of the story if you will. A few pages into it I gave up, logged in to Amazon, and bought the Kindle book.
LOLOLOL. Sorry, yes. Sure, you can prefer screen-reading to print-reading. But claiming turning pages is exhausting? Please.
Print is Dead and the Espresso Book Machine
I recently read Jeff Gomez’s Print is Dead, one of the main arguments of which is that even though a lot of people like print books and think ebooks are fixing something that isn’t broken, they should just get with the program, because eventually the only books that are going to be available in print are Dan Brown and his ilk.
But I wonder. Sure, one day bookstores may no longer stock pbooks. Maybe there won’t even be bookstores. But with print-on-demand technology, it would be ridiculously easy for publishers to continue to make it possible for anyone to get a print copy of any book they want—even if they do transition primarily to ebooks. So just from a technological standpoint, the whole “print is dead” thing seems a bit overblown.
The Cult of the Amateur
If you’re looking for a thoughtful discussion of amateurs vs. experts in the world of Web 2.0, Andrew Keen’s The Cult of the Amateur isn’t it. It starts out as a rant against amateurism, which Keen equates with incompetence. Obviously, this is a fallacious argument. (The book is a series of those.)
Not only that, but he doesn’t even agree with his own argument. For example, it’s highly doubtful that any of the record store sales clerks that he reveres were professional musicologists. Rather, they were knowledgeable amateurs who took sales positions at record stores because they liked music! The book is full of conflicting arguments like this. Keen protests that he’s not a Luddite but his concerns say otherwise. On one hand, he derides high schoolers editing Wikipedia. On the other, he reveres the same high schooler when he’s working in an indie record store. The only possible conclusion: his issue is not with an amateur music lover showing off his knowledge but with that knowledge being shown off online.
He considers the average person to be an idiot who can’t tell a personal blog from CNN or the NY Times and who is therefore constantly in peril of conflating Joe Blow’s opinions with those of professional journalists. Not only is this ridiculous (ok, there are probably some people who are just that dumb, but it’s obviously not true for the majority of people), but while he criticizes the bias of the amateur, he is completely uncritical of the bias of the professional. Ahem. As I think is pretty clear to the average person sitting at home watching cable news, just because someone is getting paid to talk about news on TV doesn’t make them unbiased.
He argues that buying music from Tower Records (now-defunct music store) = good! Buying music from iTunes = bad. Renting movies from Blockbuster? Good! Netflix? Bad. The hell? I mean, if his actual concern is people “stealing” intellectual property, then he shouldn’t have a preference where or how they obtain it, as long as they do in fact pay for it. He also makes such a big deal about people buying singles on iTunes, like singles are some kind of online invention (!) that’s an affront to musicians. With arguments like these, he betrays his own bias as someone who simply doesn’t want people to buy stuff online.
He is pro-corporation, expecting readers to feel bad for mega-corporations such as Disney. Seriously? Disney? The same Disney that is pretty much single-handedly responsible for crazy copyright extensions? Right.
We must keep content creators and content consumers separate, he argues. Really? Really? Give me a break. Elitist much? Sure, there’s a lot of crap online. Sure, there are legitimate issues with respect to content creation and how creators should be compensated (believe me, this is an issue I’m interested in), but the idea that only a certain class of people are allowed to create and everyone else should just sit down and shut up and consume? [censored]
Why does Jane Doe posting how-to-crochet tutorials on YouTube or John Smith blogging about the exploits of his family bother him so much? If he’s not interested in these things, he doesn’t have to “consume” them. But it seems to bother him that they exist. Or rather, that he knows they exist. Because average people have always created things, they just weren’t so visible to the elites. His big issue seems to be that he is forced to acknowledge their presence. And, of course, that their presence (content) might be competition for his.
Do I think that, if someone is an expert, their views on their subject of expertise should be given more weight than that of non-expert? Sure. But what makes someone an “expert”? Credentials? Paid employment? Being knowledgeable about a subject? Being skilled at something? What Keen seems to miss is that a) a person can be both an amateur and an expert on a subject, b) not all professionals are experts (i.e. a person might hold a paid position, but not be very knowledgeable or skilled), c) people can obtain knowledge & skills through means other than formal education & employment, and most importantly: d) every professional starts out as an amateur. You don’t get good at something by passively “consuming.” You get good by trying, doing, creating, learning, experimenting. Yeesh.
Oh wait. He didn’t actually miss that because in his acknowledgments at the end of the book he actually admits that he, writing his first book, is an amateur. So, it’s ok that he (an amateur) writes a book putting down amateurs (as well as the general population), but it’s not ok that other amateurs write (or make videos or whatever) about subjects they’re interested in? How can he not see that he’s doing exactly what he doesn’t want others to do? What makes him so special?
Finally, perhaps a bigger problem than anything I’ve discussed here is, after a few chapters, Keen veers wildly off-topic, digressing into discussions of such things as IP theft, privacy, identity theft, online gambling, online porn, and parental controls. I guess he ran out of things to say to support his stated thesis. Overall, it’s a shallow and flawed argument. Disappointing.
Shared Discovery
[W]hat makes a good memoir [is] not a regurgitation of ordinariness or ordeal, not a dart thrown desperately at a trendy topic, but a shared discovery.
The Remainder Table 