So I'm joining the kindle generation. I might add that I have not the slightest interest in downloading anything from Amazon - and why would I, when I'm a cheapskate and second hand books are so much cheaper? - so this particular sale will not only be a loss leader for them but a loss outright. I'm buying it purely so I can read my friend's marathon musical copyright novel a little more easily than I can from a PC screen, and free downloads from Project Gutenberg become a little easier to squeeze into my day. There are of course rival technologies, but I don't want a keyboard, a touch screen, voice recognition, universal translation or Star Trek tricorder capability. The only secondary function old fashioned paper books had for me was supporting the legs of the table I used to use as a desk, and I never asked for more. I suppose there might have been be an iPhone app for that too, but in the end my solution was to get a proper desk.
Well, that's me done for today. I'm off to hunt down a woolly mammoth for my lunch.
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Thursday, 22 March 2012
The importance of being brutal
How does one respond to positive feedback? Most normally, Blogger spots it and marks it as the spam it undoubtedly is. So if I receive a 'Insightful article. Very interesting and informative. Thank You.' from 'Urdu Translation Services', these days it does not go to my head. If they really wanted to reel me in, they'd treat me mean...
Thursday, 15 March 2012
Writing without irony
As I sat listening to my colleague today fairly hammering the keys of his keyboard, it occurred to me that he had probably learned to type on a typewriter decades ago, and had simply never realised that a keyboard is not a system of levers; that there are no letter heads that have to be whammed against the screen. It's amazing how unadaptable human beings are. Once we learn to write with one hand, we could never conceive of writing with the other. I grew up writing stories in a certain style which is probably wearily familar to those who know my work, and it's not so easy to bust out of it.
Labels:
Balsa wood,
literary musing,
W.G. Sebald
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