To shamelessly run with a concept
employed by economist Don Boudreaux in his ‘cleaning with capitalism’ series at Café Hayek, I’ll post on reading by capitalism; beginning with a reading
problem I’ve recently picked up: my iPad.
I was originally a happy man, content
and in a middle age marriage to my Amazon Kindle. It was nothing exciting, just
a great read: I found the e-Ink technology kind on my eyes, and I could read
outside, but also at night with the lights off using the torch attachment built
into the cover that can (and should) be bought with the machine. Best of all, I
could read two average sized novels on a single battery charge. Unfortunately,
however, lust for a feature, or rather, an app, has led to my Kindle being
jilted for another.
The affair started on my reading budget
being weighed down by the demands of, well, all the other things that money has
to be spent on, particularly as we’ve just built a house on escaping Christchurch,
meaning library ebook lending became too attractive to bat my eyes at anymore.
The problem is the New Zealand library service doesn’t work on Amazon's
platform, no doubt a licencing issue due to that latter company’s desire the
owners’ of their machines can only get content by buying from the Amazon store.
Which I have no problem with, but it simply meant to loan ebooks from
Christchurch library I had to get an iPad and download the free OverDrive app.
A fatal attraction. Woe is me, I had no idea of the trouble I was getting
myself into, with this foxy, seductive little piece of technology.
The difference between a Kindle and an
iPad is the difference between a Soviet styled planned economy and laissez
faire: a single function versus choice. Lots and lots of choice. The affair
with my iPad has truly left me like a gaping innocent staring with sparkly eyes
at the world of email, Twitter, games apps, every sort of app you can think of,
and of course, the Internet. Which has also ironically meant I can’t read books
any more. At least, not in the three week library ebook lending period, before
the digital locks go down on the boudoir of whatever I might be reading.
Currently two days left on Charlotte Grimshaw’s ‘Night Book’, and I’m barely
half way through it.
The trouble is I get into bed with this
temptress, my iPad, not Charlotte, and my whisky nightcap – though I’m
beginning to think apple cider might be more apt - and instead of going direct
to the book reader app I can’t seem to resist the bright lights, glitz and
possibilities of first checking my emails, then Twitter, oh, and then perhaps
I’ll just check my blog stats - getting a bit OCD on that lately - but on the
way to those, look, that article in Granny Herald, damn, I’m going to have to
write a blog on that, and before I know it Mrs H. is mumbling from the pillow,
‘turn that damned thing off and get some sleep!’. Which I do, meekly, of
course.
So whereas I
used to read books, and love them, my heart has been turned by reading the
Internet, which is to read everything and nothing; left feeling like an empty
vessel, a wastrel, spent force, Twittering my life away, each time I turn the
saucy little iPad off. You’ll see at the top of this blog that I set it up
because I was writing a novel, well she’s been spurned also for the gleaming,
shiny retina-display of 2048-by-1536 pixels. I’ve even done something I said
there should be capital punishment for, despite my belief in the non-initiation
of force principle: used the camera app to photograph the pooch and post her on
Twitter! Kill me now, please.
Because the thing about choice is, it’s
great, in fact, fantastic, imagine a world without choice (as Marx did, and
which Stalin put into practice): but it does require discipline and some
self-responsibility to give us the outcomes that we set ourselves. And until I
find that discipline again, which I’m sure I will, my old, austere Kindle, sits
lonely and sad, in her little red jacket, in my bedside drawer, unloved. I’m
sure it’s temporary though, I’ve got books in the blood, I’m sure I’ll remain
true after this trifling fling. So for now, with her battery advantage, my
Kindle is a traveling mistress only, but heed my advice about that femme fatale
iPad: she’ll take you places you might not be able to resist, and ruin you for
reading.
Coincidentally, instead of reading
Charlotte, or writing, right now, I’m even tap, tap, tapping this blog post on
my iPad, while watching Coro Street. Mrs H. has just emailed me from her iPad
if we should perhaps open another bottle of wine; which we probably shouldn’t,
as it’s been a Chardon-day since
lunchtime. Last night, after a Google, she tricked me by emailing the three
Coro cast who are going to die in a tram wreck in an episode this coming
Friday, thinking that funny, but only rubbing in how the iPad may be the death
of the story if in the wrong hands, or if kids aren’t brought up with a love of
words, and a little discipline. And speaking of hands, she’s now tapping me on
the arm, showing sometimes the old ways can still have merit: it must be my
turn to actually move and fetch that bottle … um, I’ll just check my Twitter
stream first, there could be someone wrong on the Internet, again, who will
need correcting, and for some reason I’ve anointed myself as the one to do it.
Who says capitalism doesn’t involve self-sacrifice. There’s no point watching
Coro, anyway, I know what’s going to happen. I guess after I get that wine I
could read - Oh look, my solitaire app is waiting for an update …
___________________________
Other reading related posts.
Book review: Jennie Erdal: The Missing Shade of Blue
___________________________
UPDATE:
Graham Beattie has kindly highlighted this post on the best book site in the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment