Technology Fail

I do fine with computers but audio devices flummox me. I can never find the cord I need to sync and charge my iPod and so it spends most of its life with a dead battery in the bottom of my purse. I’ve tried checking out audiobooks from the library to put onto my iPod but you have to install that Overdrive software and who can be bothered to fiddle around with all that? I just want something that will work right away, not something I have to build from the ground up. Hence my love of Playaways, those self-contained MP3 gadgets you get from the library with the audiobook already installed. Just stick in a battery, plug in your headphones and go.

Well yes, until you get a defective one like I have now. I’m part way through The Lacuna and the Playaway has croaked. I’ve ordered up the CDs from the library, but that brings me to the other problem with the Playaways – navigation. Where the heck am I in this book? All I have is a tiny screen that says 3-8 on it (and I don’t even have that any more now that the device is dead). What does that mean? What page is that? I feel disoriented not knowing how far I’ve read. How am I going to figure out which disc I should start with?

I know I could buy this audiobook from iTunes or rent it from Audible.com but both those routes involve money and hardware. I could download it to my Kindle (also $$), which has so far been a more reliable and accessible device than my iPod. But what I think I am going to do is just get the damn hardback book from the library. Nothing to set up. No cords to wrangle. No batteries to run down. Figuring out where I am should be a cinch. How about that?

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson

Yesterday I finished listening to The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson on a device called a Playaway. Have you heard of these? They are little digital audio devices (smaller and lighter than a deck of cards) that come preloaded with an audiobook. The Madison Public library has recently begun lending them. They come complete with a battery and headphones (along with polite instructions about cleaning the earbuds with alcohol before using). The Playaway takes all the bother out of listening to audiobooks; no more bulky cassette players, no more ripping CDs to your iPod. The Playaway Web site says that the universal headphone jack allows use with different kinds of output devices including FM transmitters, so perhaps you could use one of these in your car. It even comes with a handy lanyard for hanging around your neck. I felt a tiny bit dorky wearing it this way but not enough to make me not do it.

Bryson reads this book himself; it’s his memoir of growing up in Des Moines, Iowa in the 1950’s and it’s totally entertaining. In truth, it’s more than a memoir, it’s a history of the 1950’s from the point of view of a child. Thus for example, atomic air raid drills are remembered not for the horror of possible nuclear annihilation but for the sight of the teacher (Mrs. Enormous-Bosom) taking shelter under her desk, her large behind not quite fitting underneath. Bryson avoids maudlin self-indulgence by anchoring his personal story in the larger world. He includes longer sections about U.S. society in the 1950’s: race relations, foreign policy, and an endearing portrait of his mother who worked full time as a reporter for the Des Moines Register back in the days when few women worked outside the home.

Bryson’s childhood sounds idyllic. He describes with delight the days spent on his bicycle, the hoards of children in his neighborhood, the endless road trips in the back of a station wagon, and the sights and sounds of downtown Des Moines before it was leveled for redevelopment. Bryson enjoyed the kind of freedom that was so common in the 1950’s and so uncommon now. While I am younger than Bryson, I too remember being kicked out of the house early on a summer morning with a peanut butter sandwich in my pocket, instructed not to return until dark. This book evokes great memories for baby boomers, but I think anyone of any age would enjoy it.

The book is (like all Bryson books) extremely funny. If you happened to see a woman walking around Madison wearing a weird square thing around her neck and giggling hysterically, that would be me.

(Book 17, 2009)

End in Tears by Ruth Rendell

This was an audio book. It was read by John Lee, whom I didn’t enjoy as much as I’ve enjoyed Davina Porter, who has read other Rendell titles. The book was good most of the way through, but the ending was unsatisfying. I felt like Rendell just kind of sprung the killer on us, ha ha it was her all along, bet you couldn’t guess. Well I couldn’t guess, and I wasn’t really convinced, either. I also didn’t buy the whole subplot about surrogate parents and suspect adoptions. But no matter. As usual, I enjoyed the peripheral characters almost more than the main ones. Hannah, a new addition to the Kingsmarkham police force, provides some good entertainment as she rages over Wexford’s lack of political correctness.

(Book 2, 2008)

The Ghost Map by Steven Johnson

I like epidemiology. Is that weird? I always read the articles about diseases like ebola and malaria when they appear on the New York Times science page, or in The Atlantic. I also like history, especially British history. Thus this book, about the London cholera epidemic of 1854 intrigued me. It tells the story of a doctor, John Snow, who proved that cholera spreads via contaminated water rather than through miasma (“bad air”), which was the prevailing wisdom of the time. He arrived at this theory through careful observation and statistical analysis, and managed to convince the city authorities to remove the handle from a pump in Soho, thereby ending the outbreak and proving his point. His map of the area, which showed the numbers of dead and their connection to the contaminated Broad Street pump was a groundbreaking feat of scientific analysis and communication.

Johnson tells the story of the cholera epidemic well. He manages to make it suspenseful, even though we already know how it ends. He also paints a vivid portrait of mid-Victorian London, a crowded, dirty city where the poor were concentrated in squalid slums like those in Soho where the outbreak occurred.

But wait, there’s more! The book also provides a history of modern epidemiology, and of the waste disposal industry. Without sewers, we’d all still be getting cholera, he says. Indeed Johnson hails the London sewer system (whose construction he describes in loving detail) as one of the engineering marvels of the modern world, far superior (in his eyes) to other feats of the same era, such as the Eiffel Tower, for example.

And Johnson keeps on going! In the last chapter of the book he tries to draw comparisons between the cholera epidemic of the mid-19^th century and threats to modern urban life, such as bioterrorism and rogue nuclear strikes. Ack. I really didn’t want to hear about those. His point is that we can address modern threats through the same methods that Snow used on cholera: by paying attention to science instead of superstition, and by being open to new ideas, even if they go against the popular wisdom. I guess so. But really, I was mostly interested in how Snow came up with that idea about the pump handle.

Wikepedia has a good article about Snow and the cholera outbreak. It also has a short article about the London sewerage system.

(Book 45, 2007)

Digging to America by Anne Tyler

Anne Tyler puts two families under the microscope in this book. Along the way she tackles themes such as adoption, identity, inclusion, immigration, loneliness, disease, death, and life in the suburbs.

Two families adopt girls from Korea. The families meet at the airport, as they await delivery of their babies. One family is large, loud, and American for many generations. The other family is small, quiet, first generation Iranian-Americans. The contrasts make for good story telling. But what I liked best was how Tyler can make the must mundane situations into good reads: a long description of Maryam's extremely uneventful day is just wonderful.

Interestingly, I have just discovered (via the Reading Matters blog) that this book has been shortlisted for the Orange Broadband Prize for Fiction, the UK's only book award for fiction written by women. Here's a link to the Orange Broadband site.

This was an audiobook, read by Blair Brown. She's the best reader I've ever encountered. This was a very soothing book to listen to – is that a compliment? I mean it as one.

(Book 16, 2007)

Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl

This was an audiobook, read by Bernadette Dunne. I like listening to this kind of book because it’s more a series of sketches than a story with a narrative arc. Since it took me a long time to listen to this, it was better that I didn't have to keep track of too much action. Though of course it has a story: Reichl’s evolution as a restaurant critic at the New York Times. But if you don’t like long, poetic descriptions of food, you will be bored by this book. Me, I like that kind of thing. I guess if you are reading (instead of listening) you could skim those parts.

Reichl learned not long after she began her stint at the New York Times that all the big name restaurants had her photo posted in the kitchen. Rewards were offered by restaurant managers to staff who successfully identified her. The point of this was to serve her the best meal possible, so as to obtain a laudatory review. In order to circumvent this, Reichl adopted a series of disguises, complete with body padding, wigs and elaborate back stories for each character. In disguise, Reichl would be able to experience the same kind of restaurant meal and service that would be available to the general public, rather than the rarified meal offered to the restaurant critic. Her efforts were successful, and her descriptions of condescending waiters and terrible food are very funny. The bad (and sometimes good) reviews that resulted from these adventures are also included in the book.

Her disguises were a form of self-discovery for Reichl. Dressed as the blowsy hippy Brenda, she discovered her earth mother personality; as the repressed and humorless Emily she felt herself grow mean and critical. I enjoyed reading these sections as much, or more than, the descriptions of the food and restaurants. There’s more to this book than just food.

As I said, it took me a long time to finish listening to this. The weather here has been brutal (first terribly cold, then all this snow) so I’ve been riding the bus to work instead of walking. The bus ride just isn’t long enough to get much listening done. I'm hoping that spring comes soon.

(Book 9, 2007)