A 7-inch iPad? Not for me.

July 26, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Tech Life

After a long, too long wait, I’ve finally purchased a third-generation iPad. I don’t think I’ll write a review because I feel it would just be redundant — what could I possibly say that hasn’t been said already? But for the purpose of this article, I’ll stress one thing: the size of this iPad is just fine. I have held and played with iPads (all three generations) at Apple stores and other electronics shops, and since she got hers before me, my wife has occasionally let me use it. But it’s when you have your own iPad that you really get to notice things like bulk, weight, user interaction, comfort, and so on. And after ten days of continued use, I just can’t, for the life of me, picture this device as being big or bulky. When some Android-loving acquaintances exalted the portability and the form factor of the Samsung Galaxy Tab 7, saying that the iPad was so impractical compared to it, I gave that remark the benefit of the doubt. After getting my iPad, loading my favourite apps (and exploring new ones) and starting to create my workflow, my answer to anyone telling me that a 7‑inch tablet is better is going to be a proverbial Jobsism: Are you nuts?

So, Google makes a nice, cheap 7″ tablet called the Nexus 7, and suddenly a 7″ tablet “makes sense”. Suddenly Apple has to build an ‘iPad mini’ because… because it has to kill a competition that’s basically made up of the aforementioned Samsung Galaxy, Nexus 7 and the Kindle Fire. The question that’s been nagging me since this whole 7″ iPad debate started is: Does Apple really need to introduce a smaller iPad to kill these other three devices? Perhaps it does. Perhaps it won’t be a defensive move, just a “Oh hey, look, we’ve extended the iPad family just like we did with the iPod a few years back” sort of casual move. Perhaps this purported iPad mini will be another smashing success, capable of effectively fulfilling this need for smaller tablets which personally I don’t get.

Well, let me be clear: I understand that for some people a 7″ tablet may be more appealing than a 9.7″ one, especially if it’s also cheaper. It may be more appealing because it’s smaller and fits in smaller bags, it’s more portable, it’s lighter (by the way: I’m not finding my iPad particularly heavy to transport or operate). It should also be more comfortable to hold with one hand for longer periods of time, at least according to all those who have tried and reviewed the Nexus 7. 

But has portability become the top priority in this kind of device, usability be damned? Because to me, all this seven-inch tablet affair reminds me all too closely of another kind of portable-but-awkward device: the netbook. Remember the netbook debate? Netbooks are lighter than laptops. They fit in purses. They’re great for use in cramped spaces. They share a lot of the features of laptops but they’re far more portable. Too bad the average user experience was a nightmare. I know, I know, “but the Nexus 7 is really okay, Android 4.1 is surprisingly good[1], the overall experience is good”. I haven’t tried a Nexus 7 myself, I only tried the Galaxy Tab and similar smaller tablets whose names I honestly forgot due to their being crappy devices overall, and from what I’ve understood by reading various Nexus 7 reviews and impressions, the reviewers haven’t used the device extensively (the Nexus 7 hasn’t been on the market that long). Sure, reading an ebook may be more comfortable, watching movies too (if you have to hold the tablet for a couple of hours, lighter is better). The Kindle Fire may have been a moderate success, but it’s essentially an ebook reader with some more bells and whistles. I believe that despite those bells and whistles, its main function for those who bought it is to read books. And that’s fine. A 7″ tablet is really fine for reading books. The regular Kindle’s screen is 6″ if I’m not mistaken, and it’s a nice format for reading books. In truth, since it’s gone Retina, even an iPhone can be a decent ebook reader. I know because I’ve read more than 20 ebooks on it. 

Now, back to the ‘iPad mini’: try to go beyond the simple consumption, like reading ebooks or RSS feeds or watching a movie; picture all your favourite iPad apps, especially those you use to create (text, drawings, music, whatever) and those you interact a lot with, and think about using them on a smaller iPad. I have done this little thought experiment, and I’ve concluded that no thanks, I’m really better off with the bigger screen of a regular iPad. With some websites and photo editing tools, and sometimes while playing with GarageBand I actually found myself wanting an even (slightly) bigger screen.

Again, I’m sure a 7″ iPad makes sense for some people. Like netbooks and ‘ultrabooks’ still make sense for some, to the point that they’d choose them over a regular laptop. They hardly make sense to me, simply because they sacrifice usability and a decent user experience just for the sake of mere portability (and price). It’s a trade-off I don’t accept. Similarly, with tablets, I’m certainly not a target user for a 7″ device. I’m sure that, if Apple actually introduces an ‘iPad mini’ later this year, it’ll be a more usable device than any other on the market, but I’m not entirely convinced it’ll retain the same usability as a regular, 9.7″ iPad.

I sense the objection: “What, you’re fine with the 3.5” screen of an iPhone, but not with a 7″ iPad?” Yes, I am. Because the iPhone’s interface is designed differently. If you look at ‘universal’ apps (those whose interface adapts according to the device they run on — iPhone or iPad), you’ll see that their iPhone interface is not the same as their iPad interface: elements are rearranged to achieve the best experience on either device. Plus, on an iPhone, there’s another thing to consider: it’s a smartphone. As good as apps like iPhoto, GarageBand, Snapseed, Photoshop Express, Flipboard, etc. are on an iPhone, they’re not made for long sessions. While you can edit photos, write blog posts, handle email, surf the Web, you’re more likely to spend more time with these applications on an iPad, in portable but more relaxed scenarios. The ‘iPad mini’ interface is more likely to be a slightly-shrunk version of the regular iPad interface. Still manageable, sure, but not as optimal as a 9.7″ iPad. 

Anyway, I’m really curious to see what kind of rabbit Apple will pull out of its magic hat. After all this ‘Retina display’ exposure, it’s going to be weird if the iPad mini has a non-Retina display. And if it has a Retina display, I can’t wait to see how it fares when it comes to battery life (smaller device, smaller battery I guess). 

A final thought on portability: it just seems a bit of a silly obsession to me. A lot of people keep talking about wanting smaller, lighter devices, then when I move around the city I keep seeing people with generous-sized purses, messenger bags, hefty briefcases, backpacks, because you know, you have to make room for cameras, phones, ebook readers, magazines, notebooks (the paper and/or electronic variety), and other stuff. Does a slightly smaller, slightly lighter tablet make all that difference, in such a context?

 

 

  • 1. It’s about time that a version of Android reached the ‘surprisingly good’ stage. iOS was already surprisingly good five years ago. ↩

 

Wired: The Story of Steve Jobs, An Inspiration or a Cautionary Tale?

July 25, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Handpicked

Source: The Story of Steve Jobs: An Inspiration or a Cautionary Tale? | Wired.com.

Great article by Ben Austen at Wired. It’s hard to find a quote to sum it up nice; the piece is long and well worth reading in its entirety. For example, I liked this passage about Walter Isaacson:

The author admits that he now tends to defend Jobs against personal attacks, since his book has provided much of the ammunition. Isaacson sees Jobs as being hardly more blameworthy, even in his worst moments, than other powerful people. Readers he knows personally claim to be shocked that Jobs would brazenly park in handicap spaces, but Isaacson says some of them are bankers who created the derivatives that screwed clients out of their life savings and helped lead to worldwide recession. When other readers express their contempt for the way Jobs treated his family, Isaacson asks them, “Then how come you’ve been married three times and this particular daughter doesn’t fucking speak to you?” Indeed, Isaacson rejects the premise that Jobs failed with his family. He points out that Jobs ended up with a strong marriage and four loving children, all of whom were at his side during his illness. A wooden table filled much of Jobs’ kitchen, and for the last two decades of his life he came home just about every night and sat down for dinner. “Jobs could have been a better father,” Isaacson concedes. “But I look at that family, and it’s perfectly wonderful. It couldn’t be a better family.”

And this other passage, near the end:

In the end, that remains the paradox in the life of Steve Jobs. He put his uncompromising and sometimes brutal personality into the creation of products that strike us as beautiful, even uplifting. But the historical moment that he helped to create—a magical intersection of technology and commerce and culture, as our computers and computerized gadgets matured from purely functional items to expressions of ourselves—is unique to his life story. Without his unyielding approach to design, we might never have had our iPods and MacBooks and iPads. But most of us don’t need, or want, to take such an unyielding approach. We don’t operate Apple-sized corporations and redefine industries. Our employees, if we have any, will quit or undermine the company if they are repeatedly called shitheads who suck. Family members will find ways to administer payback if persistently ignored or mistreated. Jobs operated on an entirely different plane from just about anyone else. For the rest of us, trying to behave like him will make us and everyone around us miserable.

Oh, and in the in-article poll, Are you an Acolyte or a Rejector?, I voted ‘Both’.

A Sparrow leaves the nest

July 22, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Software

As a user of Instagram, Pulp, and Sparrow, you can imagine my disappointment at their recent acquisition by giants like Facebook and Google. These ever-hungry beasts ‘hire talent’, while the customers and users of the acquired parties’ applications are left with software which may or may not continue to be developed.

These three cases are quite different from one another. Instagram indeed seems to be going along rather smoothly (and I haven’t quit using it, despite my deep hate for Facebook; I think I’ll go when Facebook does some stupid move that may ruin the experience), as if it had never been acquired. Pulp and other Acrylic Software apps, according to the Acrylic blog, “have not been acquired by Facebook, and while there are no plans for further development on them, Wallet and Pulp will continue to remain available for download and purchase in their current form”, so basically they’re remaining in a sort of functional suspended state. As for Sparrow, well, the plans are quite clear. From an email Dom Leca sent to Sparrow users:

We will continue to make available our existing products, and we will provide support and critical updates to our users. However, as we’ll be busy with new projects at Google, we do not plan to release new features for the Sparrow apps.

The reaction on the Web and on Twitter has been obvious: angry users who feel seduced & abandoned. My reaction has been similar, but after a initial burst of anger, my feelings have turned more into disappointment and sadness. The afore-linked tweet, which I fired as soon as I got wind of the news, is harsh (“If you let yourself be acquired, you don’t give a shit about your product or your customers. Only about money. Screw you.”) but I’m not writing this article to retract any word of it, only to expand and explain further.

Meanwhile, Matt Gemmell has voiced his opinion on the matter in a piece called Entitlement and Acquisition. In it, he shows his support for the Sparrow developers, calling Sparrow’s acquisition “a success story”, and examines various different reactions from users, after making this preliminary remark:

People try to dress their reaction up as a principled stance or a community cause, but that’s at best wrong-headed thinking, and at worst wilfully egocentric bullshit.

It’s true, some of the examples he makes are a bit over the top. As for me, I’m not angry because I feel ‘entitled’ in any way. I’m perfectly aware that the risk involved when buying software from small companies is that development can end or change direction for whatever reason. I definitely don’t feel that the Sparrow guys owe me anything just because I spent 10 Euros on their software, neither I am the kind of user that demand free updates forever. I also don’t recognise myself in the other reactions Gemmell published in his article. I don’t feel betrayed. I don’t feel like “I’ll never buy their products again!”. But well, perhaps, yes… yes, I thought “This sucks, and they suck”, and yes, let users vent their frustration, non-constructive as it is. Remember that some of them indirectly helped the applications get better, by providing useful, detailed bug reports and feedback (I’m not making this up. When Sparrow was in beta stage, here’s what the developers wrote on their blog: The feedback and support we’re having on Sparrow is fantastic. Tons of great ideas and precise bug reports. We can’t thank you enough for taking the time to help us improve the app.)

What I do feel about all this is simply lack of respect, both towards the product itself, and towards those who bought it. Gemmell’s position is crystal clear:

Selling out isn’t a dirty choice. It doesn’t matter what the deal’s details are, or the amount of money, or who you’re selling to. It’s fine. It’s business. If you want to take the money, take the money. It doesn’t make you a bad person.

Acquisitions are (at least potentially) good business. In this case, Google wants people to use Gmail, and for their Gmail apps to be good. Killing Sparrow and acquiring its developers makes good business sense. It’s a sound and reasonable business decision. Google doesn’t owe you anything either.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s Google. It doesn’t matter what others apps or teams have been acquired and/or killed. It’s business. Google has a lot of money. They can do what they want with it. End of story.

The Sparrow guys have homes, and families. They have every right to cash out and take new jobs. They’re winners.

Gemmell is a reasonable, pragmatic guy. I’m fundamentally an idealist. So, in my view, “what the deal’s details are, or the amount of money, or who you’re selling to” matters indeed. And “If you want to take the money, take the money. It doesn’t make you a bad person.” Well, actually to me it says a lot about you as a person.

It’s this whole ‘hey, it’s business, it’s money, it’s all fine’ attitude that, however pragmatic, ultimately saddens me. It’s this game of treating software as a bargaining chip. Hey, we made it, we made the big bucks, who cares about the product, who cares that now we’ll be vacuumed inside the Google machine where we’ll be just some new meat in the faceless “Gmail Team”. We got the money. We could have refused the offer, and kept working to make a great application in a field (email clients) which really needs some cool, fresh ideas. The path would have been tough, perhaps, but satisfactory. But we took the easy way out. Money wins over all.

I have a home and a family too. If a big company made me a handsome offer for a product I created or something I’ve written, I would be incredibly flattered and it would be as if I won the lottery. And, of course, the whole thing would be tempting as hell. Undeniably. But I’d also consider what I would lose by accepting such a deal. The control over my product. Its identity. Maybe even my identity (in the sense of being recognised as an independent individual and not yet another number in a massive organisation). The consequences of such buyout. So, to me, who makes the offer matters a lot. And all these other things I’ve just listed, they would matter as well, which would lead me to refuse, or at least to propose a different deal. I would probably look like a fool in the eyes of a lot of people, but I wouldn’t think of myself as being stupid or a fool. 

So, I don’t know what happened between the Sparrow guys and the Google representatives who knocked at their door. I don’t know whether the Sparrow guys just threw themselves at the first interesting offer, or had received many other less interesting (lower) offers before. I don’t know whether this was a difficult decision for them or not, whether there was some kind of ‘moral’ internal struggle or not. Perhaps they’ve always loved Google and were genuinely thrilled to leave their little shop behind — so to speak — and go work for the giant retailer. Yes, Gemmell is right, from a financial standpoint the Sparrow guys are winners: they created something that ultimately sold exceedingly well and changed their (financial) lives for the better. 

The real winner here is money. And call me idealist, call me naïve, call me ‘not cut for the Business’, call me a fool, but this whole thing makes me really sad overall. As a Sparrow customer (I use it on my PowerBook G4 — it started as a Universal Binary app, in case you didn’t know —, on my MacBook Pro and on my iPhone), I don’t feel betrayed, just treated somewhat disrespectfully.

Twitter, why not create premium accounts?

July 3, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Tech Life

I’ve recently linked to Adrian Short’s commentary about Twitter’s subtle hints at forthcoming changes regarding the ‘Twitter experience’ and, most importantly, Twitter’s relationship with third-party developers and services that integrate Twitter. My reaction to this post in the Twitter development blog was very much like Adrian Short’s. However, Dan Frommer too has a point. His piece, Understanding Twitter is quite interesting and thought-provoking, and you should read it in its entirety.

Frommer writes:

The worry, as usual, seems to be that Twitter — a thing we love deeply — is going to destroy itself as it tries to become more of a business. Or at least ruin the Twitter that we grew up with or the Twitter that could have been. Anyway, I get it. No one likes it when The Man takes things away, even if it’s as bizarre as wanting to use LinkedIn to read Twitter. But it’s also important to understand Twitter’s situation.

The biggest factor driving Twitter today is that it wants to remain an independent company. There were previous opportunities to become part of Google or Facebook or whatever, but now Twitter wants to remain its own property. To become a strong, independent company, Twitter must build a large, profitable business, sooner than later — or the dream is over. It’s possible, but it will require change, which makes people uncomfortable.

Twitter has many options, but ads seem to fit the best. It could have tried to become a utility, like AT&T, and charge for all the traffic (tweets) that go over its pipes. It could have tried to become a subscription service, like Netflix, and charge a monthly or annual fee to use Twitter. Or any freemium mashup. But charging money could slow things down, and as a network, Twitter’s utility and value grow exponentially as more people use it. (Also: People are cheap.)

I specifically cited this bit because I want to insert my observations right at this point. I’m a strong supporter of the ‘premium account’ model, especially the way sites like LiveJournal and Flickr have implemented it. Both these places have created premium/pro accounts in a completely optional way. Of course, having a premium LiveJournal or pro Flickr account has its advantages, but at the same time, people who choose the free account option don’t receive (too much) crippled experiences in return and can still enjoy the service. Typically, if you have a basic LJ or Flickr account, you’re a casual user who doesn’t take full advantage of their services and therefore you don’t think it’s worth upgrading to a paid account. While users who want to make the most of their LJ or Flickr experience and usage, people who tend to use these services more frequently and heavily, will generally choose to upgrade to a paid account.

I’ve been thinking that Twitter could implement premium accounts in exactly the same way. Given the huge user base, Twitter could charge as low as $10–15 a year. Benefits of a premium account could include removing ads and letting people use their third-party client of choice, while free accounts get to use only the Twitter web interface and the official Twitter clients, and they’ll have all those promoted tweets and ads Twitter inserts in the timeline. This is just off the top of my head, and the idea can obviously be better refined, finding a balance that can be advantageous to both types of users, the casual Twitter user for whom the Free option is more than enough, and the Twitter addict who wants the most hassle-free Twitter experience. 

Like many other people, I have invested a lot in Twitter since 2008, and it has become an essential social tool (I hate using these buzzphrases, bear with me). I’ve been gladly paying for a pro Flickr account since 2006, $24.95 per year, and I don’t think it’s a steep price considering what Flickr has given me in return. If Twitter introduced paid accounts at, say, $12.95 per year, I would pay for it as promptly and gladly. It’s all in what you decide to offer in your premium option (or what you decide to take away in your free option). Dan Frommer is right, people are cheap, but I think that there’s a sufficient number of people who would pay for a Twitter premium account if it were worthwhile enough.

Handling MobileMe email on older iPhones

July 1, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Software

This is just a quick note, nothing extraordinary, but perhaps it can be useful to anyone who still has an iPhone or iPod touch that cannot be updated anymore, is stuck with iOS 4.2.1, and wants to keep handling their @mac.com/@me.com MobileMe email. As you know, the MobileMe service was discontinued yesterday, and iCloud requires iOS 5 and at least an iPhone 3GS to work. 

This morning I was updating some apps on my old iPhone 3G, and when I launched Mail it obviously failed to check my @mac.com account. So I went to Settings > Mail, Contacts, Calendars, selected my MobileMe account and deleted it. Then, back to the Mail, Contacts, Calendars screen, I tapped Add Account and chose Other, then Add Mail Account. In the next screen I entered all my (iCloud-enabled) @mac.com account settings, copying them from Mail.app on my Mac. The iPhone verified the settings and proceeded to create a new “Mac” account. 

Naturally, you can’t have all the features of a full iCloud account (so no automatic syncing of Contacts, Calendars, Notes, etc.)[1], but at least you can still handle your @mac.com/@me.com email account. Apologies if this is so obvious, but maybe some users just went and deleted their MobileMe account on their older devices and didn’t think they could retain the email functionality.

 

 

  • 1. Some readers have chimed in, reminding me that Contacts and Calendars can be synced as well, by configuring them manually (go to Settings > Mail, Contacts, Calendars, then tap on Add Account, then Other and finally on Add CardDAV Account or Add CalDAV Account) using your iCloud credentials. I was only pointing out that you won’t have a single full-featured account where you can easily select the items you want to synchronise like you did before with MobileMe. Apologies if that wasn’t clear enough. ↩