One More Reason to Buy a Kindle

As many of my friends know, I covet the Amazon Kindle. It’s not that I don’t love actual paper books. Far from it — my ownership of books borders on the pathological. But I love the idea of buying books literally anywhere, anytime. And I love the idea of saving a bit of money. And I’m beginning to think I’d be better off buying a Kindle than buying another half-dozen or so bookshelves.

The only thing stopping me? The fact that instead of lowering the price, Amazon instead came out with a new, fancier model. Mind you, I did the math last week, and if I had enough self-discipline to stop buying books for a couple of months, I could afford a Kindle easily. Unfortunately, I have more willpower when it comes to food than books.

Yesterday, though, when getting my daily dose of webcomics, I found yet another compelling reason to own a Kindle. After reading this from xkcd (“a webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language”), I may just have to bite the bullet and save up for one of my own:



(Click on the image to see the full-size version.)

I hadn’t thought about it before, but the Kindle probably is as close as I’ll ever get to owning the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. That and a nice towel, and I’ll be all set.

In the meantime, I’ll keep looking at webcomics, since they’re free. If you’re a complete geek like me — the kind of geek who appreciates references to Hitchhiker’s Guide and enjoys the occasional Microsoft bashing — check out xkcd. You’ll be glad you did.

Kindlenomics — Amazon vs. Sony vs. Dead Trees

This time last year, I was trying to decide whether I wanted an Amazon Kindle or a Sony Digital Book Reader. Each had its advantages. The Kindle has immediate download and doesn’t require connecting to a computer to purchase books. The Sony is cheaper. The Kindle had a better selection of books. Sony e-books cost less. Kindle has newspaper and blog downloads, and Wikipedia access. Sony allows you to read .pdf files.

A year later, and I’m still on the fence. Two main concerns have stopped me from purchasing either device. The first is being unsure about giving up my paper books altogether. I can’t really pinpoint why it bothers me, although those who know me understand that I have a bit of a problem with books. I’ve lost track of how many I own — EAToo tried to make a spreadsheet once, and gave up. I currently have five full-sized bookcases that are all overstuffed and overflowing, in addition to a few random, overlarge piles of books in closets and such. And that doesn’t even count my pre-high-school collection, which I’ve completely lost track of, except for a few special volumes.

I know I have a problem. I also still have every college textbook I ever owned. And two copies of each Harry Potter book, hardcover and paperback. (Three if you count audiobooks.) And I probably shouldn’t even go into the fact that I subconsciously don’t even crack the spines of paperbacks I read — something I wasn’t even aware of until EAToo pointed it out to me.

But nostalgia for “dead trees” aside, I’m also held back by the economic side of the equation. The Amazon Kindle, originally $400, has only dropped to $360 over the course of a year. The Sony Reader is $270. And I’ve never been sure that the convenience factor would be worth that kind of money. I’m also not sure if “convenience” is a good thing in this situation — I love bookstores, and while being able to buy a book within seconds would be nice, I can’t imagine not hanging out at Barnes & Noble (or “the mothership”, as I have come to think of it).

It turns out, I’m right to be worried about that. According to this blog article on ZDnet.com, an analysis of “Kindlenomics” shows that for the average reader, you must download and purchase at least six books per month, or 72 per year, in order to save enough just to cover the cost of the Kindle itself. The analysis is a bit more advantageous if you are a college student (a literature student in particular), although that logic falls through a bit considering that a lot of college textbooks aren’t yet available in digital form.

I keep coming up with “ifs” — a digital reader would be great if I went back to school... if I found another job that would require me to keep my documents portable... if I traveled more. But for where I am right now, it seems like it’s more economically advantageous to keep killing trees. Physically, I could certainly read six books per month (being something of a natural speed reader anyway), but my schedule doesn’t ordinarily permit me enough time to do so. Plus, I’m not sure I want that kind of pressure, constantly worrying if I had wasted money on a digital reader.

According to the ZDnet article, the current price point to make the purchase of a digital reader reasonable if you read one or two books per month is $125 – $150. If you assume three or four books per month, an appropriate price point is about $200. (Here’s the actual math.) While I’m sort of leaning toward the Kindle over the Sony, I’m positive of one thing — it will make a lot more sense to buy a digital reader when (or if) the current prices drop by about half.

Twilight: Reluctantly Jumping on the Bandwagon

Yes, I know.

I’m a bad, bad blogger.

I could give you a line about how September and October are my busiest time of year at work (which would be entirely true), but honestly, I’ve been gone due to a mixture of business, job dissatisfaction, distractions, general malaise, and lack of inspiration. I’ve been thinking that eventually, something would happen that would inspire me to pick back up and post again.

This week, it finally happened.

So, you may ask, what have I run across that caught my attention so powerfully that I was compelled to put fingers to keyboard again? I finally got around to reading Twilight.



As usual, I’m a bit late to the party. I didn’t read Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone until July 2000 — the same week that Goblet of Fire, the fourth book in the series, was published. But, much like my experience with The Boy Who Lived, Twilight has become an instant obsession for me.

At first, I wasn’t terribly excited. I’ve read and seen a lot of vampire stories. And as a veteran Buffy/Angel fan, I assumed that as far as the star-crossed vampire/human love story goes, I’d been there, done that. Plus, I’m still a bit irritable about the whole Harry Potter being pushed back thing.

Sometimes I’m very pleased to be wrong.

Twilight is told from the point of view of Bella Swan, a 17-year-old in the process of moving from her lifelong home in Arizona to live with her father, Charlie, in the sleepy (and annoyingly rainy) small town of Forks, Washington. Arriving in town, Bella finds Forks to be exactly what she expected from her sporadic visits growing up — a small town where everyone knows each other, everyone already knows more about her than she would like, and a school curriculum that runs a couple of years behind her school back home, leaving her completely bored. However, she also finds several surprises in her new home: good friends, a better relationship than she expected with her father, and a lot of male attention.

The biggest, most life-changing surprise of all, though, comes in the form of her new lab partner in biology class — Edward Cullen. At first, Edward confuses Bella. She doesn’t understand why she is attracted to him, especially when he alternates between being interested and friendly one minute and cold and angry the next. Even more puzzling is the fact that Edward always seems to be there at the exact moment that accident-prone Bella needs help. As Bella begins to discover Edward’s secrets, he can’t help but let her in. As their story progresses, their lives become inextricably intertwined, their relationship growing stronger and more powerful than either is prepared for.

In describing Twilight, I hesitate to use the word “epic” — at best, it’s overused. But I cannot think of another word that accurately describes the relationship between Bella and Edward. (It reminds me of a quote from “Veronica Mars” — “I thought our story was epic, you know. You and me…. Spanning years and continents... lives ruined, bloodshed, epic.”) You understand from the beginning of their story that their lives will never be easy again. There will be angst, and pain, and yes, considering that Edward is a 107-year-old vampire, there will most likely be bloodshed. But you also know that their connection is so strong, so undeniable, that it’s already too late to turn back.

Twilight is marketed as a book for kids and teens. But that label doesn’t do it justice, any more than it did for the Harry Potter series. Even at my advanced age of close-to-40 (although I’m not quite there yet!), the themes and characters are completely relatable. (And it’s not just that I refuse to grow up.) I felt immediately connected with Bella, in particular. Brainy, sarcastic, and terribly clumsy, Bella has a difficult time believing that she is particularly attractive. Part of her journey involves trying to truly believe that anyone as physically and intellectually spectacular as Edward could possibly be interested in her. I suspect that struggle to believe in yourself, to see what others see in you, is something none of us ever completely outgrow. I know I haven’t — that feeling can still be just as strong now as it was when I was Bella’s age.

And even if you don’t identify with the clumsy, brainy girl who fully expects to be unpopular, you can certainly identify with the story of two people in love who were never meant to be together. True, Bella and Edward have bigger problems that just being incompatible — their relationship exposes them to literal danger, in addition to emotional danger. But their connection is so strong that it’s irresistible, undeniable. They can’t live without each other. They have the kind of connection that we all crave, in theory, regardless of whether it would truly be healthy in real life.

Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little obsession. At least, that’s what I’ll be telling myself when I buy the soundtrack and tear through the rest of the books in the series, immediately after I see the movie on the weekend it opens.

In memoriam: George Carlin (1937 – 2008)

George Carlin died yesterday.

That seems so wrong to say, on so many levels. But there you have it — a legend, arguably the greatest stand up comedian ever, is gone as the result of heart failure at age 71.

I have so many memories of watching George Carlin on television and in movies. In the ‘70s, I watched him on “Saturday Night Live,” even though I was way too young to completely understand his material. In the ‘80s, I watched many of his HBO specials, and of course remember him as Rufus in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, as well as its sequel. In the ‘90s, I loved his short-lived “The George Carlin Show” on Fox, and more recently I adored his performances in Kevin Smith’s movies, especially Dogma. I still have my copy of his comedy book, Brain Droppings.

I couldn’t have explained it properly as a child, but I know now that I always loved George Carlin’s work because he shared my love of language and writing. Sure, he was very much known for his riff on the “Seven Dirty Words” (written long enough ago that you can actually use a couple of them with regularity on broadcast television today). But his use of profanity and his disdain of politeness never limited his ability to express himself. His work was genius, completely aside from his use of “inappropriate” language.

Some of his bits that stick in my mind include his questioning of why we “park on driveways but drive on parkways,” his rant about how spoiled we must be as a country to have eating disorders while so much of the world is starving for lack of food, and of course the perennial favorite “A Place for My Stuff.” I’ll never forget the line on his sitcom about how his character, New York cabbie George Grady, was so enraged when “Star Trek” was cancelled that his angry letter to the network was “still etched into the bar.”

But it was always the little observations that really got to me, and his gift for wordplay. “Pacifism is a nice idea, but it can get you killed.” “Most people with low self-esteem have earned it.” “As a matter of principle, I never attend the first annual anything.” “The planet is fine. The people are...” — well, I can’t really repeat that one here. He did occasionally use profanity, you know.

George Carlin had no patience for sentimentality. He would probably be irritated at all of the people eulogizing him — if for no other reason than he’s not around to hear it — but he will be missed. He was an inspiration, and the world is a far less interesting place without him in it.