How not to present a panel on “Reading in the Digital Age.”

September 27th, 2010

Let’s take two men on opposing sides of an issue and throw them in front of an audience of casual spectators. Let’s give them what is somewhat of a hot-button issue, at least at this event. Let’s say the event is a book festival. Let’s say the issue is the increasing market share of e-readers and what it means to the landscape of literature, publishing and reading itself.

Let’s say one of these guys is Michael Hart, founder of Project Gutenberg, an organization that seeks through the e-book format to make accessible all of the world’s greatest works, including some that – with permission – are still in copyright. While we’re at it, let’s go ahead and say the other guy is Michael Dirda, a Fullbright Fellowship recipient and Pulitzer Prize-winning Washington Post book critic.

(Let’s also say Marilyn Johnson, author and library stalwart, is there, representing the middle ground but unable to get a word in edgewise.)

Now, let’s sit back and wait for an answer we’ll never get.

Because neither of these men is interested in bridging the gap between the promise and accessibility of ebooks and the tangible joy and art of physical binding. Neither of these men is interested in discussing how Project Gutenberg offers limitless preservation of what used to be the fragile and time-consuming practice of book collecting, and neither is interested in discussing how a mix of both physical and e-books helps people rediscover the joys of reading.

Instead, both men want a pissing match.

E-books are awful, a slap in the face of literature, and you water down the process of literary experience by missing out on the feel and texture of the book itself.

Physical books are pointless, archaic, space-hogging and inefficient, and everyone should read books electronically because you can fit 30,000 on one disc.

It’s one or the other. Love it or leave it. If you’re not with ‘em, you’re against ‘em.

Now, let’s vent. Because after seeing the previous example, live, in person, at the Sioux Falls Orpheum, in front of hundreds of interested people attending the South Dakota Festival of Books, I came away feeling disgusted and disappointed, frustrated that the promise of what could have been a great discussion turned out to be a symposium on Michael Hart’s inability to look behind his own project and Michael Dirda’s weak attempts at playing the same game.

The real issue is how we use e-books to further literature and adapt with the times, understanding that even ancient scrolls were pushed out by the more efficient book format, and that was thousands of years ago. Books will never go away – Dirda’s point on the art and tangible feeling that comes with reading a physical book is right on – but we can’t be naive in thinking it’s the only way to read.

Not when so many people are living without access to physical books. Not when you can provide a book in seconds to a willing audience. And especially not when there is already a drop in literacy rates and willingness to let books OF ALL TYPES fall by the wayside.

Traditional books and their texture? They mean nothing unless someone reads them.

30,000 books on a disc, for free? THEY ALSO MEAN NOTHING UNLESS SOMEONE READS THEM.

Let’s pretend that the two sides sat down and discussed the future of reading. The future of publishing. The future of literature and writing and everything that goes along with it, because, let’s face it, the future of reading is also the future of education and the future of our countries and the future of the world.

Let’s pretend the only agenda brought into this panel was one of collaboration and innovation.

Don’t I wish that was the case.


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Issues Considered: Annoyances, Books, Journalism, Literature, Sioux Falls, Writers, Writing

A Working Day

September 23rd, 2010

I’m listening to a pre-release of Ben Folds’ new album, Lonely Avenue – a collaboration with writer Nick Hornby – and it’s fantastic, just as you’d expect if you’re a fan of either guy. And then there’s “A Working Day,” the first song on the album, which is probably one of those love letters to how awful it can be to be a writer, which both of these guys totally understand.

The song itself is fantastic. Again.

I can do this/Really I’m good enough
I’m as good as them but don’t take it from me
Ask my friends/Ask my sister
They all think my stuff is great
Up there with any of them
I just need a break

I’m a genius/Really I’m excellent
Better than them I kick their asses
All of them/Even that guy
Who thinks he’s fucking cool
Gets all of the attention/He doesn’t sell shit does he?

Some guy on the ‘Net thinks I suck/And he should know
He’s got his own blog

I’m a loser/I’m a poseur
Yeah, really/It’s over
I mean it, and I quit
Everything I write is shit

I’m a loser and a poseur
It’s over/It’s over
I mean it, and I quit
Everything I write is shit

Hey Hey/It’s a working day. (x3)
Oooooh.

You’re all nodding. You know.

The ‘Net’s going to HATE this album. Predicting a Pitchfork review of 2.5.

(Bonus! Here’s a preview video of a song that’s not on the album, featuring Pomplamoose. Also awesome. If you ignore the cutesy blah blah after the song.)


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Issues Considered: Music, Music Video, Videos

The slowest basement recovery ever

September 20th, 2010

There are times I give our city government the benefit of the doubt that they know what they’re talking about – that they understand the weight of a small disaster like, say, for example, a basement flooding.

Then, other times, I get this.

Kerrie linked me to this, straight from the Sioux Falls “Falls Community Health” site.

That's a very small bucket.

OMG LOOKIT! HOW CUTE IS THAT LITTLE BUCKET? *SWOON*

I have news for you, City of Sioux Falls. That little bucket? PROBABLY not going to help.


Comments: 1

Issues Considered: Annoyances, Sioux Falls

How to preemptively judge new friends in the 21st Century

September 20th, 2010

You used to be able to determine a person’s character through his or her CD collection via a complex web of stereotypes and assumptions.

Now, you can’t. Simply put, people just don’t have CD collections anymore. And if they do, they rarely add to them.

(And, no – iTunes can’t match up – not since the ease of grabbing JUST ONE song from an artist has watered down a person’s patterns of taste. It’s too easy to take a flier on a 99 cent song.)

My question: what will replace the CD shelf as a quick-look, split-second stereotyping library?

It’s not the iPad or smartphone. These are run on applications, and applications are common. It’s like looking at a lineup of appliances. We all have stereos and refrigerators. It’s not Netflix – film genres are spread across too many different personalities, to the point that the most you could glean is whether a person was into independent film or blockbusters (and, even then, it’s inexact.)

It’s not a matter of things. It’s a matter of aggregation. CD collections and DVD collections and bookshelves are being replaced by the newest form of identity – our lifestreams and collections of Internet interests. Quick judgment – for right or wrong – now comes from the things you “like” on Facebook, from the links you reblog and the comments you make on Twitter.

I tend to think the RSS aggregator gives us the information to predict personality – after all, they’re directly tied to the things we are willing to spend time with. Facebook and Twitter are too flippant. Blogs take time and attention.

It’s not as easy – you know, what with passwords and all of that crap – but it’s the closest to replacing the connection of our CD collections. Which is probably too bad: RSS feeds really can’t match a CD collection in terms of legacy content. We can delete the feeds we don’t read anymore a lot easier than we can get rid of that Debbie Gibson CD we’re still clinging to.


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Issues Considered: Music, Technology

Two things I learned this weekend about the Internet

September 19th, 2010

I learned a couple of things about the internet this weekend.

Thing One

Ever go to a random retail Web site, like a dentist’s site or a toothpaste company’s site, and see a “live chat” option and wonder to yourself, “WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND thought it would be a good idea to integrate a PROBABLY never used chat client onto this company’s Web site?”

Like, you can imagine the board room discussion. (“We need our Web page to go viral.” “We need to make sure our board of directors can log in and update their profiles and pictures.” “We need to make sure our customers can chat with us about bagels.”)

King Arthur Flour has one of these chat windows. Doesn’t that sound preposterous? KING ARTHUR FLOUR. They sell FLOUR, you guys.

And people with flour apparently have questions.

Because I walked into the kitchen and saw this on the screen.

King Arthur Flour Chat

Current status: Proven Wrong.

Thing Two

If there’s any sub-genre that seems beyond appropriate for iPad development, it’s fantasy sports – especially fantasy football. The numbers, the sorting, the quick and up-to-date nature of scoring and trash talking. It’s a perfect fit – the larger screen and push updates make it natural.

Yet, it’s been completely ignored.

Outside of a CBS Sports App that begrudgingly adds its fantasy football game to the already difficult to navigate football scores, the only fantasy football apps are iPhone exclusive. Yahoo runs one of the biggest leagues on the Web, and its app is horrible – a lack of information, multiple screens for the same stats, a disaster of UI and design.

You can’t tell me that there’s no money in creating a fantastic fantasy football app. You can’t tell me that entire leagues wouldn’t pledge allegiance to the one company that could do it correctly.

You can’t tell me that I’m the first person who’s asked why fantasy football is long forgotten on the iPad.

Not EVERYONE is a computer dork, right?


Comments: 2

Issues Considered: Football, Technology

On living up to expectations

September 16th, 2010

It was for Sierra, this show – this Nickelodeon Storytime Live, this theatre performance of preschool-oriented cartoons, this “so-close-to-Disney-on-Ice-I-was-nearly-scared” experience.

It was her birthday present, after all. It was something she’d love – characters she talked about, DVDs she watched, songs she sang. And it was a chance to turn an early leave from work into a full-out Daddy/Daughter Date Night.

Which means it wasn’t really JUST for Sierra. It was for me, too.

Still, that doesn’t exactly qualify the excitement or anxiety I had. I spent the hours before the show wondering if she’d like it, the weight of expectation mixing in my gut, butterflies – seriously, you guys, BUTTERFLIES – as to whether my three-year-old daughter would totally love what was essentially a two hour long Nick Jr. commercial.

Sierra’s eyes sparkled through the first hour, soaking in the experience. And – boom – I finally got it. I realized that, indeed, this was an experience, one she would never again get: the feeling of encountering something new for the first time, in this case the grand stage and the power of live performance.

To us adults, this was just some actress dressed up like Dora. But to Sierra, this was something more. This was her first concert. Her first time to the theatre, watching a play; a glimpse at real acting. This was, discounting a random hug from Clifford the Big Red Dog a few years back, her first encounter with celebrity; her first brush with fame.

I went in feeling nervous. Not because I hoped she’d have fun, I discovered, but because I subconsciously hoped her first experience was similar to how I imagined my first: steeped in raw energy, the potential of the performance straining against what – up to that point – had been a one-dimensional fandom.

I guess it passed the test. She sang. She jumped up and down and clapped. She told me her favorite parts (Princess Dora) and even rooted for the bad guys. Most of all, she gave rapt attention, not missing a single word, loving every minute of the performance all the way up until Dora walked off into the sunset, at which point – in typical toddler fashion – she shifted gears.

“Can we go to Pizza Ranch now?”

You bet, little girl. Let’s wait until these goosebumps go down, first.


Comments: 1

Issues Considered: On..., Sierra, Television

On Arcade Fire’s “The Suburbs”

September 15th, 2010

So can you understand?
Why I want a daughter while I’m still young
I wanna hold her hand
And show her some beauty
Before this damage is done

But if it’s too much to ask, it’s too much to ask
Then send me a son

– “The Suburbs,” Arcade Fire

Oh, MAN, this album, you guys, what are you waiting for. If you haven’t memorized it yet, you’re already way behind.

So good. The entire thing. Especially the first 16 songs or so.


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Issues Considered: Music