Tag Archives: e-books

Neither a lender nor a borrower be (on Kindle at any rate)

Posted on March 22, 2012 | 7 Comments
Kindle with books

Kindle lending, Over there, not over here.

When I first acquired a Kindle,  I was surprised at the reaction of a book-loving friend, who said she liked to recycle her books (to charity shops), and that now she wouldn’t be able to. I pointed out the ecological benefits of not cutting down a tree in the first place and thought no more of it. But as time has gone on her words have come back to me and not just because of the carbon footprint of an e-book and the device needed to use it.After all, there’s a lot of pleasure in sharing a book, of saying you must read this and thrusting the tome in question into the hands of someone you trust implicitly to give it back (yes, a few mistakes made there!) with their own reaction.  Somehow go and get it it’s only 99p on Amazon doesn’t feel quite the same.

Which brings us to the thorny question of e-book library lending. It flits in and out of the newspapers without much seeming to happen.  It’s a complex issue and I almost sympathise with Penguin who withdrew from a deal to offer e-books to US Libraries. The problem, it appears is that compared to visiting the library (requiring time effort and requisite motivation) downloading an e-book is simply too easy. Too many people did it. And if that sounds laughable, I can’t really argue with a publisher wanting to preserve its business model, not to mention its authors’ interests. Meanwhile amazon.com allow a publisher to specify ‘lending enabled’ and for the book to be loaned for a fortnight, But I have never seen this on amazon.co.uk (where this sounds pretty uncompromising) and those U.K. libraries offering e-books are not allowed to provide them Kindle format.

And so it looks as if, barring blatant acts of piracy, even lending to a friend is impossible in the Kindle format. Which is sad, not just for my friends and our dwindling budgets but also for the way society and culture work.

Yes, I know we can all go online and press the ‘share this’ button, but what about the face to face experience, the handing back of the object, the stopping to have a good natter about it? Or even the surprise find in the library/charity shop you only picked up in desperation (I have discovered more than one author in these circumstances!) before a dentist, hospital or garage appointment and which proved to be a blindingly good read. If  everything we choose is preselected from our previous likes/dislikes, or recommended by people we know to be on the same wave-length, where will there be room for serendipity?

It’s like my old gripe about TV time-shifting. When we all watch what we want when we want to, there may be no common ground when friends come to dinner. Even adverts used to be worth a mention, before we all filtered them out through the skip function. And providers are striving more and more to hook onto our individual preferences (the old ‘you may also like’ scenario) channelling us into our ingrained likes and dislikes and away from that moment of idleness. When our viewing/reading is all pre-ordered and sent via broadband, how will we find the surprise gem we only chose because we were marooned on the sofa with nothing else to do?

I may have gone off at a tangent (no change there then!)  but sometimes the virtual world, wonderful though it is,  makes me uncomfortable. I miss the act of giving and recieiving which spreads the love of a fabulous read.  And if anyone does know more than me about lending on Kindle, I’ll be very pleased to hear about it. 

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e-books and p-books, or how to furnish a room

Posted on February 21, 2012 | 6 Comments

If you have an e-book, what reasons might there be for buying a printed copy? That’s one of the questions given thoughtful consideration by Gaby Wood in last Saturday’s Telegraph in an article called ‘Reading the Future’ (Review Section ppR24-R25, sorry no online version right now.) It’s accompanied by a cartoon from the brilliant Matt showing an elderly gent standing next to a wall full of bookshelves with nothing on them except a single e-reader. ‘This is the library,’ he says to his guests.  ‘Ouch!’ Devoted e-book fan that I am, the article and the picture raise some issues that have been creeping up on me for a while.

Our attachment to physical  books is more than sentimental, it’s ingrained in our cultural psyche. This means that although I might not have bought any new printed books in a while (in fact since I was given a WH smith voucher last spring), I’d still hate my house not to contain any at all. Not that I own a vast number (I was brought up to use the library!) but I’ve had some of them a very long time and they each hold particular memories, not just of the book but also where it came from and the time or times when it was read. If through the years their numbers diminish (as a result of spring cleaning, injudicious lending or just old age) will there come a time when our house, or maybe our children’s could be book-free zones? For a generation in which book ownership was  a powerful social indicator,  this is a scary thought. But on the more personal level, how can we be reminded of what these books have meant to us if they have no physical presence? Gaby Wood quotes a colleague – a book is a souvenir of itself. Exactly.

But does a digital object really  require a physical counterpart? Wood makes some comparison with digital photos.  I myself persist in printing out my favourite photos each year, partly as a last-ditch back-up method but also to satisfy that need for the physical memento.  But others probably use a digital photo frame which allows them to mount a display without printing anything out. I inadvertently installed a desk-top gadget that does the same thing – displaying my own photos in a random order – quite pleasing actually to be reminded on a February Monday of that trip toSouthern Europe two years ago . There are already ways in which we can do the same for books. Lots of bloggers display favourite reads on a sidebar or have feeds from book retail or review sites, keeping those novels from last year or the year before on the edge of our vision and within the borders of our consciousness.

So much for our work-space, but what about our lounge, hall or bedroom? Instead of a book-case, a slideshow of virtual book-covers marching across a screen? Gaby wood thinks we’ll always crave the physical object and comes up with another suggestion.  ‘The e-book is the event, the book is the merchandising’ i.e. we will buy only those books we truly love and pay significantly more for them. Which begs the question, of the books I’ve read in the past year, how many would I want to own as physical copies? Off the top of my head, maybe three or four spring to mind. Of these (all bought as e-books) half were ‘bargains’, the others were the same price or near enough as the printed version. Would I really want to pay more? Or will publishers start to think about new pricing models? In the new scenario perhaps the e-book (mass sales) might be noticeably cheaper, encouraging us to splash out o a p.o.d. version of those we have loved. Or shall I root around charity shops, not for books I’d like to read but those I’ve read and would like to own?

I’m getting ahead of myself. It will be a long time (will it ever happen?) before everyone owns an e-reader. Maybe by then the mist will have cleared. Right now I think readers still don’t quite know what they want and publishers (big six, small publishers, indie authors) are all groping around in the dark. Let’s hope not too much is lost along the way.

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Some recent favourites, incase you were wondering.

 

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e-pub review: Reach for a Different Sun

Posted on January 25, 2012 | 5 Comments

Reach for a Different Sun cover

“A complex tale of love, truth, identity, self-discovery and betrayal which shuttles between Jamaica and London, from the turbulent 70s to the present day.”
Jenni O’Connor’s description of her self-pub e-book is an excellent summing up. The heroine is Monique, a journalist of Jamaican descent who goes back to Jamaica for the funeral of a much-loved aunt to uncover the dark side of present-day Jamaicaand secrets in her family’s past. At heart it’s a thriller and I like it for the rich evocation of Jamaica, convincing dialogue and clearly defined characters, from firebrand dissident Mary to the malevolent and boorish Devon Jones. As the plot gathers pace, Jenni also fills in the ‘back stories’ of her main characters in separate chapters. I expected this to be a distraction from the main thrust of the story, but in fact these chapters are beautifully written with a real feel for Jamaicans at home and abroad. The story of June and Owen emigrating to UK recalled Andrea Levi’s Small Island and in this respect Jenni’s writing, if less literary, is equally affecting. Some aspects of the plot didn’t quite work for me (I would have liked a few more surprises towards the end) but this is still an entertaining and engrossing read.

The book is well presented with a professional cover design and typos few and far between. As indie pubs go, this definitely cuts the mustard.

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Small but perfectly formed

Posted on March 27, 2011 | 5 Comments

An interesting coincidence this week – or was it? On Wednesday, thanks to Twitter I picked up an interesting post on Vanessa Gebbie’s blog about the visual impact of fiction, i.e. how layout and typography influence our perception (and enjoyment) of what we read.  This works at different levels, from the appearance of the page – ratio of white space, style and character of the typeface – to the detail of punctuation and spelling conventions, all of which define the character of the text.  For instance, although I tend to dislike how some authors (or their publishers) dispense with dialogue tags and use dashes rather than speechmarks  (because I think very few writers can sustain dialogue like this without making it harder for the reader), I can’t deny that such books wouldn’t be the same if laid out more conventionally. The visual effect is somehow germane to the character of the book. 

Not so Perfect

not quite actual size!

Next part in the equation was the arrival of  my copy of Nik Perring’s short story collection Not So Perfect.  I won’t deny my immediate reaction was surprise -  a very small book indeed! But handy for reading on my twice- weekly bus trips, so into the handbag it went. But it was only on the second outing that I realised the genius of the format, which is not its portability, but in the way it reflects and enhances these stories, some of them flash, some a little longer, but all of them snappy and arresting. Just to clarify, each story has a full title page on the right hand side (recto) accompanied by a line drawing. The following page is blank, and the text starts on the next right hand page. This has the effect of making the reader pause to take in the statement made by the title page and to appreciate its artistry before delving into the text. I particularly like when a story finishes on the right hand page, leaving blank the verso before the next title page. The shorter the fiction, the more important it it so take time reading it. And so in practical terms, the more white space between pieces, the better.  The small page format is just right for the length of the stories and presumably makes the space an economic possibility. A much better choice than bigger pages with more text on each. 

And finally …. I don’t have a Kindle or other e-reader (yet), but assume that at least for the moment all books are reduced (or expanded) to a similar screen size. If so, that’s a shame. Or maybe just a timely reminder of the infinite variety of printed books and why this design classic has endured for so long.

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Fessing up

Posted on September 5, 2010 | Leave a comment

You’ll have to take  it from me that  I started to harbour these heretical thoughts a while ago and certainly before getting wind of  the Guardian article kindly summarised by Snowbooks on their blog. But it did come to a head last night when a T.V. advert flited across my consciousness. The perky graphics and a whimsical melody made me assume the product was a mobile phone or a bank account  (no hi-tech hard-sell here) but it was the Amazon Kindle e-book reader.  And the heretical thought? Yes, I want one. Not necessarily a Kindle, but something that will do the same  job. 

It’s not the first time  I’ve been  tempted into this pernicious (as some would seeit) technology.  For a short while I did have a Sony e-reader in my possession,  just long enough to decide that I didn’t like the book (Dan Brown) but I did like the technology.  I even told some fellow bibliophiles about this experience and I could see that they accepted my arguments (handy for a holiday, not like reading from a screen) without for a moment being convinced that anything could be better than the tried and tested all-time winning invention that is the book.   At that point I thought the same – that an e-reader would be a handy extra reading tool rather than one that would replace the contents of a book-case or bedside table. 

So what has changed? Well, here comes the true heresy.  After seeing the advert I began to think about why I like reading from a book, and discovered that in many respects I don’t find them particularly convenient. Hardbacks, which I occasionally pick up in the library, are too expensive to buy and definitely no good for the handbag/suitcase scenario, as I know from recent bus journeys when the weighty novel  has been ditched in favour of a drink and a sandwich. Paperbacks I like in principal (so colourful and nifty) but in these harsh  economic times I think design has often gone out of the window. Typefaces are too small or lines are too close together, resulting in a lack of white space on the page. Paper chosen by publishers (with some honourable exceptions)  is cheap and nasty. Perfect binding means that pages spring together when you want them apart, and any pressing or bending risks damaging the spine. And I have never been a habitual reader in bed, mainly because I’ve never found a reading position (book, bedclothes, pillow, light) that I can comfortably  maintain for more than ten minutes. And any paperback more than 400 pages long wil probably fall apart after two readings, so ‘permanence’ isn’t really a factor.

So, what is so great about books? Well, the concept of movable type was an all-time winner. The book has held its place as the prime vehicle for scholarship, entertainment, culture and information for centuries, and so that was a damned fine idea too. As physical objects they are also, in general,  pleasing so that their ownership has become a source of pleasure and a status symbol (these two things being so closely intertwioned that a house without books would feel very strange, and ow would we live without libraries? ). I also worry that if we abandon all ‘hard’ copy in favour of electronic media,  that the potential for the loss of swathes of literature and research at the flick of some foolhardy switch could lead to cultural disaster.

But leaving aside the future of human knowledge, the careers of book designers  and the message (or lack of) sent out by my home book shelves, would I rather read novels in paperback or on a reader? My hypothesis is that the reader would be a better bet.  It’s one I’m certainly interested in testing out.

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Sunrise, sunset

Posted on October 31, 2009 | Leave a comment

Had a sobering thought yesterday when I heard mail delivery (i.e. by the postman) being described as a ‘sunset industry’. Hang on, I thought, as a novelist whose primary aspiration is to get into print, am I also part of a sunset medium,  soon to be supplanted by e-books, downloads or just one big blogosphere?

It’s not that I  consider e-books to be works of the devil. Readers may note that a Kindle or Sony Reader in my Christmas stocking would be more than accceptable. But for the book to die out altogether? Well, call me nostalgic, but that is very scary indeed. 

Luckily I recently discovered Nathan Bransford’s blog (now on the sidebar) and he has such an up-beat take on this (and publishing life in general) that I’m taking the liberty of quoting directly.   

“don’t panic. Things are changing, it’s going to be an interesting/challenging couple of years as we gradually succumb to our coming e-book overlords, but it doesn’t mean the novel is going to disappear or that we’re all going to hell in a handbasket. Things aren’t going to be worse (at least in the long term), they’re just going to be different. And in 50 years when we’re making the transition from reading e-books on screens to having them beamed directly into our heads we’ll wax nostalgic about the charming blink of electronic pages and the smell of plastic and people will get angry about the change and say that you can pry their e-books from their cold dead hands.“

Not quite sure why this cheered me, but it did! Do get along there if you haven’t been already.

Next on my to do list is to look at all of Nathan’s advice on getting published, but a more pressing problem is the WIP. As I pass the 10,000 mark of my Water’s Edge rewrite, I’m wondering, in view of previous reactions, why I have retained the first person?  I tell myself   that every scene is now told in a way that would work in third person. 

So why on earth don”t I just do it?

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E Book, Scottie …

Posted on March 5, 2009 | 2 Comments

sonyreaderThis week I’m the surprised user of a Sony e-book Reader. Surprised, that is, to be given it (courtesy of a sudden initiative to test them out at work) and even more surprised to be liking it. Not that I would prefer it to a book, but it’s certainly a lot more bearable than I expected. It’s light and slim enough to slide easily into  handbag, and so I have been testing it in all sorts of places – waiting for a friend at the Bath Literary Festival, slumping in my chair at home, and waiting for a mammogram appointment; all the places, in other words, where one would usually pick up a book.

As the choice of reading was limited I picked a well-known blockbuster, something (intellectual snob that I am) that I wouldn’t usually read, but which I thought would provide a relatively easy read, and so it has proved to be. The ‘page’, of course, is smaller, and so I have 859 to get through. Daunting at  first, but okay once you realise it’s like driving with signs in kilometres (more of them but they go faster). The screen is comfortable to read, though maybe a bit dim in the deserted Italian restaurant I found myself in on Monday. The font size can be adjusted, but not, I  think, the font itself (for some reason a sans serif, although other book titles are in a conventional Roman font). All in all, although I miss the tactile element and the double-page spread, it’s an acceptable substitute for ‘the real thing’ and I can see ther are occasions where it might come in handy.

What does strike me, though, is that if it’s not quite as nice as reading from paper,  it’s a damn sight better than reading from a conventional computer screen, something I spend a lot of time doing.  I’d be more than ready to use the e-reader for all those files I end up scanning too quickly (and getting a headache) or sending to the printer. I would think it would be a lot more comfortable than a laptop (even a mini notebook) for reading through lengthy documents of any kind, assuming they don’t need to be edited. I’m also intrigued to learn that Amazon’s equivalent (Kindle 2) has a lot more functionality including a screen reader and the ability to read online newspapers and blogs. An e-reader would  also be ideal for reading unpublished manuscripts (which I frequently exchange with fellow writers) without any of us incurring printing costs . (Although the reader itself costs £200! )

At this point I should be looking at the bigger picture and  pronouncing on the future of the book as we know it, but I’m afraid all that will have to wait. I still have 200 of my 839 pages to read!

P.S. I’ve just remembered Scott Pack kept a Sony Reader Diary back in the autumn. Check out what he says here.

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