My Empty iPad
I think the iPad is a great idea. But, in it’s present state, it’s not a truly great device.
Compared to the computers I’ve used over the past two decades, it’s a stunning achievement. I can browse the web, send and receive email, listen to music, watch video, play games, create documents, record audio, and many other things on this tiny, beautiful tablet that recognizes the touch of my hand and has to be recharged so infrequently that it seems to simply run on its own lifeforce. It makes real the utilitarian props of science fiction books and film; it’s the time machine that reminds us we live in the future. Oh, and given all that it does, it’s really not that expensive.
I did, of course, overlook two particularly important things in my features list. The iPad is a part of two new web ecosystems - that of focused, “miniature” applications (apps) and of e-books. The ability to create and run apps for Apple’s mobile devices has resulted in so much fanfare, the only thing that threatens to overshadow it has been the joy of moving our libraries from shelves to the cloud. But frankly, apps and e-books, with all their glorious potential, are the most disappointing things about the iPad.
To me, apps remind me of coupons. Most coupons offer discounts for things I would ordinarily not buy, yet I am tempted by the deal to buy them. In like manner, few apps present truly useful functionality, yet offered up for free or a nominal fee, it’s hard to resist filling my iPad with them, or my time trying to integrate them into my life. Ironically, the only “app” I find at all useful is the one that seems it should be an integrated piece of the iPad operating system: iBooks. Sadly, iBooks is the other big disappointment.
Before I explain my disappointment, let me first list the things about iBooks that are not disappointing (I won’t, by the way, mention all the UI metaphorical disappointments in iBooks, as those complaints are plentiful on the web already). Finding, sampling, purchasing, downloading, and reading books is very easy. As Apple fans like to say, “it just works.” In addition to the two books I’ve purchased from the iBooks store, I’ve downloaded over fifteen books from among Project Gutenberg, a collection of works now among the public domain. In my opinion, the very existence of the Project Gutenberg collection is a significant “pro” for the iPad. But aside from the selection of public domain classics, “selection” within the iBooks ecosystem is surprisingly limited. Yes, I found a couple of science fiction novels of interest, but the majority of the books that I’ve put on my “to read” list are not available from iBooks. Specifically, 20 books that I hope to read at some point are, at this time, not listed in the iBooks store. Nor are 67 of the books that I’ve read over the past year and a half. These titles are not obscure, nor are they all so new as to be expected to be absent. They’re just not there yet. Maybe someday I’ll be able to purchase them…
Oh, right. I forgot. I actually would rather not purchase these books. I’d much rather borrow them from the library. The library - where I have found and accessed the vast majority of books that I’ve read over the past four years - need not be threatened by the iPad. Maybe it is or will be, but it really shouldn’t have to be that way. My dream for this device is to be able to borrow books from the library collection in electronic format, either by gaining access to them through the library’s website, or by “picking them up” while physically browsing its collection. The serendipity of discovering books in proximity to those you’ve sought out is a powerful thing. It’s how I’ve come to read a substantial number of books. Proximity is a recommendation engine of its own - an algorithm composed of the gaps between books, the curatorial decisions of librarians, and the element of chance determining whether a book is there or in the hands of a fellow citizen. It’s a human engine that is more likely to deliver you a book you didn’t know about than those recommendation engines you find on sites like Amazon.com. Those are so heavily influenced by popularity and inventory, that you are likely to see a smaller and more predictable array of material “also bought by” or “also viewed by” those who bought or looked at the book you’re considering.
I’m disappointed by the pressure I feel to integrate apps in my life and thereby validate my purchase of the iPad. Boy, it would be so much easier if I could honestly say, “I’ve come to truly depend upon ___, I could never give up my iPad now.” But I can’t say that. I sincerely want to read on my iPad, but I’m disappointed that the only way to participate in this e-books revolution is to buy books that I really don’t want to read and to buy books when I really just want to borrow them. One day (in the future), when I can join my love for the community library (whatever that means then) with my personal device, I will be happy.
Can I get an amen?
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