A few months ago I bought an Amazon Kindle to try to answer for myself whether or not it’s better than reading books on paper?
I love reading a book on paper: I know how it works. And I can do it anywhere, if I have my book. I just open it up, and it ‘works’ : the book is just there. There’s no magic buttons to press, no batteries to charge. The only thing to worry about, I guess, is tearing the book apart, or getting it drenched.
The Kindle? Flipping to the next page is a bit funny (You press a button on the side), and you kind of have to charge it every few months. You press a button to turn it on, but otherwise, it looks like a printed page more or less. Less, but that’s not such a big deal. It’s ‘good enough’.
Except, well, it fails in ways that a book doesn’t.
A few weeks ago I found myself standing outside in -15C temperatures. I wanted to read while waiting outside in this weather, and all of a sudden, after a few pages… my Kindle rebooted. It turns out that reading in sub zero temperatures doesn’t work yet. Who would have thought? I was kind of annoyed, but hey, now I know.
So, I started wondering. What happens in failure. People design for making sure that something works as expected, but I found this failure really perplexing. I’d love to have “planned failure” a more important design aspect. A book keeps working in cold weather, why doesn’t my kindle?
To me this was as if my Prius didn’t work in the rain. Or my espresso machine wouldn’t work on Tuesdays.
Almost all the work I do requires a pretty steady internet connection. WIthout it, I can’t check email, write emails, write code, write designs, talk to colleagues. Nothing. Of course, when you need something as much as this, it’s fun to see how people deal with not having it.
A couple of years back, in Sydney, there were a few afternoons where there was no connection from my office whatsoever. The story was completely standard. First, everyone panicked; there were still deadlines, of course. Frustration. Anger. Only after an hour or so did people relax, and say: screw it, let’s go to the pub.
What’s the key to happiness in this? To avoid the angry hours. I think this is what buddhism is all about. Accepting loss. Now, when I don’t have internet on a train, for a minute or an hour, rather than fret about it, I relax, accept it as part of the job, and read.
In the last hour I read 100 pages of a great new book by Haruki Murakami. Written a blog post. smiled. Some around me struggled, smacked their keyboards, or, who knows, maybe gave up and went to the pub.
I think that bridges are interesting. A lot of the time we think they’re really pretty, but there’s more to the story. The Brooklyn Bridge is famous for being the uniting feature of New York, and its amazing construction. The man in charge, Washington Roebling, famously suffered decompression sickness during construction, and, unable to move, watched and supervised the construction of the bridge from his apartment window.
I want to compare the construction of two bridges I find incredible for different reasons.
The Sydney Harbour Bridge was controversial for its costs while being built. So many odd things about the construction linger. Firstly, it was the longest bridge of its kind when constructed. Then, the huge stone towers on either end of the bridge are just cosmetic—The real supports are on a large ‘king pin’ at either end. Then, the way it was built: every rivet was handmade and heated, at various points on the bridge. The steel was brought from the UK, with a steelyard at the north end of the bridge. That is an incredible distance to bring steel over, and even more incredible, is that Australia is a huge iron and steel exporter now. The noise from the steelworks angered Sydneysiders, and the site is now an olympic swimming pool and a fun park.
The other bridge is the Kaibab Suspension Bridge. It’s a little footbridge, 130 metres long, 1.5 metres wide, over the Colorado River, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It was finished in 1928, 4 years before the Sydney Harbour Bridge, so it was built at the same time. The Grand Canyon is a damn remote place, and every single bit of this bridge was taken, by foot, or mule from the top of the canyon. That is 21 kilometers away, and 1.8 kilometers further up. Incredibly, for instance, the cables for the bridge, some 550ft long, were carried on the shoulders of men from the top of the canyon to the bottom. It took six weeks to take one cable, on the shoulders of about a hundred men, from top to bottom. All of this was built by hand, because there is no food, water, electricity, gas or any sort of infrastructure.
I find the human endeavor in the Grand Canyon bridge so impressive. More than any large bridge around.