Thursday, July 30, 2009

“Take Back the Beep”

New York Times technology columnist David Pogue wants to Take Back the Beep by getting cellphone carriers to drop their lengthy (and revenue-enhancing) voicemail instructions. Until the carriers cave, one can at least skip the instructions by invoking the magical sequence 1 * #. Or even simpler, one can hang up (so to speak) after just a few rings and send a text, saving the person on the other end the work of retrieving voicemail.

I support Pogue’s effort, but I’m secretly hoping that the phone companies keep their instructions. The “1 * #” thing is pretty cool.

(Oops — my hoping’s no longer secret.)

Eric Gill: control, distraction, and tools

Eric Gill (1882–1940), engraver, printer, sculptor, typeface designer, recommended a hand-operated press as the best tool for letterpress printing:

This tool gives the maximum of control with the minimum of distraction. It is most important that the workman should not have to watch his instrument, that his whole attention should be given to his work. A sculptor does not see his hammer and chisel when he is carving, but only the stone in front of him. Similarly the hand press printer can give his whole attention to inking & printing, and hardly see his press.

From An Essay on Typography (1931)
I have no thoughts about printing, but this passage does make me think about tools for writing and searching.

Writing: for a maximum of control and a minimum of distraction — eraser crumbs, dull and broken points — the pencil is an obvious choice. As for pens, a plain Bic offers zero-degree distraction: fountain-pen expert Frank Dubiel used to call the Bic the most reliable pen of all. But Dubiel was willing to sacrifice some measure of reliability for the pleasure of writing with a fountain pen. And anyway, a good fountain pen is extremely reliable, needing little more than occasional refilling and infrequent cleaning. For writing at the computer, one may find a maximum of control and a minimum of distraction by using a text-editor, a much better choice than the typical word-processor, whose hammers, chisels, and dozens of other tools are always competing with words for the writer’s attention.

Searching: there’s no better example of an interface designed to maximize control and minimize distraction that Google’s nearly blank search page. Microsoft’s Bing, in contrast, offers a cluttered mess: the search box is placed (for now) against a panoramic photograph of hikers crossing a rope bridge, with links to first aid info, “Great deals on airfares,” and what’s “Popular now” — the Ferrari 458 Italia, Stephon Marbury, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., and Carlos Carrasco. Am I here to search, or to lose track of what it is I’m looking for? Self-parody, thy name is Microsoft!

Gill's observations also make me think in a general way of Mac OS X, an operating system that lets me give my whole attention to my work, so that I can “just work,” without the ever renewed effort to figure out what’s gone wrong with the computer now.

[When I requested Gill’s book via interlibrary loan, I didn’t know that the 1931 first edition was limited to 500 copies, each copy signed by Gill and René Hague, who together set the type. I read carefully — very carefully — and returned the book with the suggestion that it never be let out again. The 1936 edition of An Essay on Typography is available as a paperback reprint from David R. Godine (1988). “It just works” is an Apple slogan, a few years old now.]

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The quick brown fox . . .

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. No, really: watch.

Wikipedia has an astute article on the fox, the dog, and their sentence.

(Thanks, Macon!)

Microsoft sans irony

Steve Ballmer of Microsoft:

“Through this agreement with Yahoo, we will create more innovation in search, better value for advertisers and real consumer choice in a market currently dominated by a single company.”
Yes, Microsoft really hates the idea of one company dominating a market.

Microsoft and Yahoo Reach Deal on Search Partnership (New York Times)

Domestic comedy

“You’re plenty plaintive.”

Related reading
All “domestic comedy” posts

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Books, books, jive sugar



Books, plant food, tea, cocoa, books, tea, books, cocoa, cassettes, books, Absolut Brooklyn ad, boom box, books, books, books, books, jive sugar, photograph of the Brooklyn Bridge, honey, tea, books, sugar, photograph of my son Ben, books, three-hole punch, books, books, books, books, books, books.

[Down and across, part of one wall in my office. Photograph by Rachel Leddy.]

"Jive Sugar" is the title of an Earl Hines tune, inspired by a fellow musician who said no to an artificial sweetener: "Don't hand me that jive sugar."

Monday, July 27, 2009

Books and guns

What guns are for some people, books are for me. I’ll never give them up. “Cold, dead hands,” all that.

Nicholson Baker and the Kindle

Nicholson Baker’s consideration of the Kindle in the new New Yorker is unlikely to move many units. A sample:

The problem was not that the screen was in black-and-white; if it had really been black-and-white, that would have been fine. The problem was that the screen was gray. And it wasn’t just gray; it was a greenish, sickly gray. A postmortem gray. The resizable typeface, Monotype Caecilia, appeared as a darker gray. Dark gray on paler greenish gray was the palette of the Amazon Kindle.

This was what they were calling e-paper? This four-by-five window onto an overcast afternoon?
Baker’s conclusion, supported by many other reasons:
Amazon, with its listmania lists and its sometimes inspired recommendations and its innumerable fascinating reviews, is very good at selling things. It isn’t so good, to date anyway, at making things.
A related post
No Kindle for me

“Two large black men,” et cetera

The “two large black men with backpacks” who were supposed to be breaking into Henry Louis Gates’ house last week: where did that description come from? Not from Lucia Whalen’s 911 call. And Whalen’s lawyer insists that she did not talk to James Crowley at the scene.

Google Classic

“Please allow 30 days for search results”: Google Classic.