A Quick Note On eBook Pricing and Amazon Hijinx « Whatever – Author John Scalzi on Amazon’s eBooks: “I personally don’t buy ebooks with DRM on them, because I actually like to own the books I own. It’s a funny twitchy thing of mine. I’m not sure why other people are so willing to let that slide.” Ayup.
Godsbody: The Eternal Smile by Gene Yang & Derek Kirk Kim – Matthew Lickona writes, “I think the book is kind of genius, and anything but modest, seeing as it takes careful aim at the unhealthy escape from reality that can be sought in both comics and religion, two things which are both hugely important to the writer. I’d call that pretty ambitious.”
So this is what I don’t understand about Kindle and such. You don’t HAVE the books. You buy them and then they disappear. I don’t get why this would be a good thing. If I want to read them again, I have to pay again? I’d rather just keep up my library fines…
Jeanne, the ebooks you buy aren’t *supposed* to disappear. You’re supposed to own them outright and have them forever, just like music you buy via iTunes—but Amazon slaps DRM on them and therefore retains some control. (And iTunes has been disappointing on the DRM front too.)
It remains to be seen whether Apple will go the DRM route with books purchased through the iPad’s eBookstore. I’m hoping they’ll make the right decision (no DRM) but their track record isn’t great in this area.
Because of DRM, I *don’t* buy Kindle books to read on my iPod Touch—I only download free (public domain) books.
I did buy one Kindle book (for the iPod Touch Kindle app) just to try out the reader. Imagine my chagrin when I found that same book in my pile of ARCs a short while later.
And I admit there are a number of books I have been tempted to buy via the Kindle app—like A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book, which Kindle has for $10—but I am deterred by that infernal DRM.
(A roundup post with links to my notes and reviews)
Hey, what happened to all those booklists you used to have in your sidebars at the old blog?
They're still accessible at melissawiley.typepad.com, where this blog lived from January 2005-March 2008. You can also find all my Lilting House posts there, or try the search bar here. All my previous Bonny Glen and Lilting House posts have been imported to this site.
Every day is complicated, messy, and full of friction. And every day has glorious or cozy moments worth celebrating. I seldom bother to chronicle the friction and the mess because writing time is fleeting and precious—and childhood even more so. I’d rather capture the small joys that I might forget—or take for granted—if I don’t take time to set them down in words.
(Excerpt from this post about Real Life, quoted here because I don't want anyone to be under the impression that things are always perfect around here! Heaven knows we are anything but. Perfect, frictionless, orderly? Nope. Happy? Most of the time!)
Be like the bird
Who, pausing in flight
On limb too slight,
Feels it give way beneath her,
Yet sings,
Knowing she has wings.
—Victor Hugo
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“Exploration,” says John Stilgoe, author of Outside Lies Magic, “is a liberal art, because it is an art that liberates, that frees, that opens away from narrowness. And it is fun.”
Yes: it is so, so much fun, and that is why I write these posts all chattery with excitement over this or that connection the kids made today. (Or that I made myself!) I know I get carried away, but that’s the point, isn’t it, that way leading on to way has carried me away?
And yet—and yet—I think we are at once ‘carried away’ and made more fully present in the now, more rooted, by these relationships between ideas about things past and future. The joy of connection makes me want to celebrate this moment, this brief encounter with wild-haired child and broad-trunked tree, bus going by, sign on church wall, Scottish warlord creeping over the tower wall and startling the English soldier’s wife who has just put her babe in arms to sleep by crooning that the Black Douglas won’t get him. Child, laughing, shouting “Dinna ye be sae sure aboot that!” across the courtyard outside the library. How can I not celebrate this freedom?
So this is what I don’t understand about Kindle and such. You don’t HAVE the books. You buy them and then they disappear. I don’t get why this would be a good thing. If I want to read them again, I have to pay again? I’d rather just keep up my library fines…
Posted on January 30th, 2010 at 7:03 pmThanks for all of you help with the carnival, Lissa!
Posted on January 31st, 2010 at 7:03 amJeanne, the ebooks you buy aren’t *supposed* to disappear. You’re supposed to own them outright and have them forever, just like music you buy via iTunes—but Amazon slaps DRM on them and therefore retains some control. (And iTunes has been disappointing on the DRM front too.)
It remains to be seen whether Apple will go the DRM route with books purchased through the iPad’s eBookstore. I’m hoping they’ll make the right decision (no DRM) but their track record isn’t great in this area.
Because of DRM, I *don’t* buy Kindle books to read on my iPod Touch—I only download free (public domain) books.
Posted on January 31st, 2010 at 7:24 amThanks for explaining this Lissa. I had actually wondered if you were buying Kindle books and how you made that work, considering your appetite : )
Posted on February 1st, 2010 at 9:05 pmI did buy one Kindle book (for the iPod Touch Kindle app) just to try out the reader. Imagine my chagrin when I found that same book in my pile of ARCs a short while later.
And I admit there are a number of books I have been tempted to buy via the Kindle app—like A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book, which Kindle has for $10—but I am deterred by that infernal DRM.
Posted on February 1st, 2010 at 9:17 pm