the iron self-discipline of a monk

Now, I love Cory Doctorow as much as ― no, more than ― the next guy. Don't get me started, lest I count the ways. The guy is just producing bushels of awesomesauce on a daily basis, and if he sold it on the street he could have a corner market. But guess what: he gives it away for free, which means even over here in the Second World, I can partake of the same quotidian helps of genius that everyone else gets.

But he's (probably) not 100% right about everything. I don't quite base my life on all his teachings, as Bart Simpson famously once said about Krusty. About copyright law, technology, the future, art, etc.: yep, I'm his evangelist. But there are some vibes concerning religion and philosophy that I've picked up on that I'm not entirely comfortable with. (Don't know if he's Jewish. This would seem to indicate that he is. Or not. To confuse matters, he had the poem "Jabberwocky" read at his wedding.)


Anyway, last weekend he dropped a five-part ResonanceFM interview into his podcast feed. Great stuff overall, but when asked about the future of ebook reading devices and when something like the Kindle will become more popular outside the publishing industry, Cory said something that I'm having a hard time believing he actually meant.

...For one thing it's going to have to be a lot cheaper. And I don't think it's going to get cheaper because of fundamental reductions in the cost of the materials. I think it'll get cheaper only in scale. And reading isn't widespread enough to reach that scale. And so what you'd have to do to bring that scale up, I think, would be to introduce other features, right? Like a Kindle that could also be a great iPod and a great Nintendo DS and a great phone, at that price point, would make a lot more sense.

As soon as it does all that stuff, I don't think that it'll be very good for reading because you think about ― every time you hit a paragraph that your eyes slightly glaze over on, it'll be, ‘I wonder if there's anything in my e-mail...’. Which is why no one reads books off-screen. You need the iron self-discipline of a monk to accomplish it.

Does he mean that nobody reads books on paper? That would hardly make sense, but it would seem to be the meaning of the word 'off-screen'.

It seems a bit more probable that he meant 'off the screen', i.e. while sitting at a computer, paging through a PDF, for example. But still: really? Even with all the distractions, no one can get through a book this way?

Personally, I believe ebooks are our biggest hope for the future availability of non-Hebrew literature here in Israel. The market just doesn't support Barnes & Nobles or Borders and the likes, to my great dismay. We can order from abroad (England seems to be a popular choice) or try our luck at many second-hand shops such as these. While they may have a big selection, they are not suited for the ongoing production of all books. And we deserve no less than that. Getting there is going to require a mentality of abundance, which you should read about in this article by Chris Anderson.

...Plus the capability, not to mention the iron self-discipline, to read books off of a screen.

[Update: the Jewish question is answered, for the record.]

your name, your brand, your future shame

Wikipedia registration offers this grim warning:

You should strongly consider choosing a username that is not connected to you. All edits to the encyclopedia are permanently recorded and publicly visible in the history of any page that you edit, as well as on discussion pages. If you use your real name or a username that you go by elsewhere, people seeking information about you online may see your username and others' comments on your editing. If your editing happens to cause concern, there may be discussion linked to your username.

Frightened enough? Why stop there? By extension, the whole internet could be viewed as a giant Repository of Potential Future Embarrassment. You don't need to be a resigning state governor or a well-known, yet shunned author to know that a Twitter rampage is not the ephemeral moment of relief that it feels like.

You may not be able to delete those blog comments you left while under the influence, so Google Alerts will always remind you of that special moment. And if you think your "25 Things" note on Facebook is a wee bit embarrassing now, keep in mind that the Wayback Machine will preserve it for all of your future employers, your descendants, and all of their potential spouses and employers, for the rest of the life of the internet. (Actually, I don't know if that's true. At the time of this writing, Facebook still doesn't allow access to most of the content of your account to people outside your friends or your region. But I have heard talk that Facebook will be removing that "walled garden" paradigm someday. And Facebook already has a long memory. Don't expect it to hide the old stuff, just because it was better guarded in the past.)

I've started a few blogs since moving to Israel, but under various noms de plume that allowed me some plausible deniability. As a result, I spent so much time and effort trying to mask my identity and that of everyone I wrote about, the places I had lived, and the careers of my family members, that I abandoned them.

Obviously, that's not going to work here. This is my real (albeit Israelified) name. The name of my other blog is also my Twitter handle, my Google profile, and Facebook URL.

In other words, once I've goofed up, written a passage of substandard prose, it's done. I'm handing a loaded gun to all my future prospective employers, partners, and clients. I haven't even published this post yet, and I can already feel the eyes of my unborn children, mortified with embarrassment.

So, (he said, as if reaching a conclusion) I've decided that the only remedy is to go with it, concentrating on the journey rather than the destination, on the process rather than the product. Maybe the good posts will dilute the stinkers.

What about my personal brand and the shame of my progeny? Not to worry. My Wikipedia editor name will never, ever be associated with all this.