Ancora sull’affidabilità di dispositivi e supporti

February 14, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Mele e appunti

Il tutto inizia in modo semplice e innocuo: avevo voglia di rivedere alcune foto scattate fra 2004 e 2005, all’epoca del mio insediamento qui in Spagna. Di quelle foto conservo vari backup in dischi e anche Mac diversi, ma la versione più strutturata è conservata in una ventina di CD‑R, tutti ordinati cronologicamente. Sono CD‑R masterizzati dal 2004 in poi, presumibilmente dal masterizzatore interno del mio PowerBook G4 12″, che all’epoca era la mia macchina principale. Masterizzatore che non ha mai dato problemi e che continua a funzionare ancora oggi. Nel masterizzare, ho sempre cercato di seguire tre regolette, nel limite del possibile:

  1. Utilizzare supporti di buona qualità
  2. Utilizzare sempre lo stesso masterizzatore
  3. Utilizzare sempre lo stesso software di masterizzazione (nel mio caso, Toast Titanium)

Ho un archivio di CD e DVD masterizzati piuttosto cospicuo, che controllo periodicamente. Non so se il mio metodo paga, oppure se si tratta semplicemente di fortuna, ma devo dire che mi è capitato molto raramente di trovare un disco assolutamente illeggibile, nemmeno fra quelli più vecchi in mio possesso (del 1995, all’incirca).

Immaginate la sorpresa quando, inserito il primo CD con le foto del 2004, mi sono ritrovato davanti l’interfaccia di Toast Titanium, con il MacBook Pro che invece di montare il disco lo considerava un supporto vuoto. Un MacBook Pro del 2009 che non legge un CD del 2004, questa è bella, ho pensato.

Ora, è noto che quando un disco masterizzato si comporta in modo inaspettato (viene visto come vuoto, o addirittura risputato dall’unità ottica), i colpevoli possono essere solo due: o il disco, rovinatosi in qualche modo, oppure il lettore/masterizzatore. La mia sorpresa era grande anche perché ricordavo di aver visto sul MacBook Pro altri CD di foto della stessa epoca, senza problemi. Inoltre conservo i miei CD/DVD con cura. Ancora incredulo, ho provato il secondo CD, con l’archivio di foto del 2004 e 2005. Niente. 

Ho riavviato il Mac. Niente.

Sarà colpa del lettore del MacBook Pro? Ho inserito un film in DVD e non ha esitato a leggerlo.

Allora ho fatto un’altra prova: ho collegato il masterizzatore CD/DVD portatile LaCie esterno, ho provato gli stessi CD. Niente da fare.

Stavo iniziando a pensare che forse era successo qualcosa ai dischi. Riprendo il primo CD e lo inserisco nell’unità ottica del Power Mac G4 Cube che ho di fianco. Bum! Si monta sulla scrivania e le foto sono tutte dove le avevo lasciate. Inizio a navigare fra le cartelle e tutto si apre regolarmente. A questo punto ho come una pulce all’orecchio: prendo il CD e lo faccio leggere dagli altri Mac che ho a disposizione nel mio quartier generale: il PowerBook G4 12″ lo legge, il PowerBook G4 Titanium lo legge, gli iBook G3 colorati lo leggono, il PowerBook G3 Lombard lo legge… Il caso strano sembra essere il MacBook Pro. Mi viene un’altra idea: riavvio il MacBook Pro dall’ultimo backup di Snow Leopard che feci prima di aggiornare a Lion, rimetto il CD e… viene letto tranquillamente. L’unica deduzione che mi resta da fare è che stavolta il colpevole non è né il disco né il masterizzatore, ma il sistema operativo. Possibile che Lion sia così schizzinoso?

Purtroppo sono talmente occupato che non ho potuto documentarmi bene online per sapere con certezza se si tratta di un problema comune ad altri utenti, e non ho ancora avuto il tempo per aggiornare a Mac OS X 10.7.3 per verificare se risolva il problema. Ho pensato di riportare questo episodio per fare un paio di considerazioni, una pratica e una più generale.

La considerazione pratica: vi succedesse una cosa del genere, non saltate alle conclusioni pensando che i vostri CD o DVD siano illeggibili o rovinati. Se io avessi avuto soltanto il MacBook Pro e il masterizzatore esterno, dopo aver provato il CD in entrambi i lettori, quello interno e quello esterno, sarei stato tentato di concludere la stessa cosa. Se vi rimangono dei Mac più datati e provvisti di unità ottica funzionante, riesumateli e fate delle prove: non tutti i dati potrebbero essere persi.

La considerazione generale: siamo sempre al solito discorso. Viva il digitale, certo, ma un po’ più di affidabilità non guasterebbe. Se quello di Lion non è un semplice bug passeggero, siamo all’assurdo — al non essere in grado di leggere un supporto registrato sei anni fa. (D’accordo, alla fine ho potuto leggerlo, ma supponiamo di aver avuto soltanto attrezzature recenti). Tornano le osservazioni che ho scritto in The culture of backup due mesi fa:

Siamo nel 2011: non dovremmo stare a preoccuparci di copiare i nostri materiali in maniera ridondante su vari dispositivi e in vari luoghi per poter proteggere le informazioni in modo sicuro. So che è facile farlo, che i dispositivi costano poco, che può essere un procedimento del tutto automatizzato, ecc. Ma credo che il tutto debba essere qualcosa di ancor meno oneroso. Ovviamente non mi aspetto vita eterna dai dispositivi e dai supporti, ma almeno qualcosa di più duraturo. Come i CD musicali acquistati nel 1988 e tranquillamente riproducibili in un lettore del 2011. Sono sicuro che quando li avete acquistati non avete pensato “Oh adesso devo fare un backup della musica perché qualcosa potrebbe andare storto nel giro di un mese e potrei perdere i dati”. Vorrei semplicemente qualcosa di paragonabile per le informazioni che ho sui miei Mac. Basta con questa cultura dell’usa e getta. I nostri dati personali si meritano opzioni di archiviazione migliori e più affidabili.

A volte l’immaterialità del digitale mi atterrisce, come nel caso illustrato qui, e finché il digitale mi riserverà sorprese come queste avrò sempre quella punta di diffidenza. Fare i backup è importante, non lo nego, ma non si dovrebbe vivere facendo continuamente manutenzione dei propri materiali con quell’angoscia sottile e remota di poter perdere delle informazioni solo perché si è abbassata la guardia un momento. La tecnologia dovrebbe venirci in aiuto, non complicare le cose.

iWitness

February 14, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Handpicked

Source: iWitness | Seven Days.

After a mandatory introduction explaining the role of Jerry Manock in Apple’s history, the article features a lot of interesting excerpts and quotes from Manock himself, plus a scan of Manock’s original deal with Steve Jobs from 24 February 1977, when Jobs hired him as a consultant to design the Apple II.

A couple of favourites:

When the iPhone came out, I sent Steve an email saying, “Why don’t you just buy your own communications satellite to have a worldwide cell network. AT&T has the iPhone in Vermont, and we use Verizon. His response was: “Thank you, Jerry.”

Mary Ellen and I went to California — it must have been 10 years ago. We went to the annual meeting, unannounced, and sat in the fourth row. The executive staff came onstage and they sat on their little stools, going through their business. Steve looked over at us and he did a double take. I thought, Well, that’s really nice. He recognized us. At the end of the meeting, when they asked if there was any more business, Steve said, “I have some business.” He said, “I just want to acknowledge Jerry Manock.” And he told of our contribution, being on the Macintosh team. Everybody stood up. It was a standing ovation. He didn’t have to do that.

I also sympathise with this:

Nowadays you can design something in 3D, have photorealistic rendering, cast shadows and specify, “This is metal. This is wood.” You can come up with a picture of it without ever touching a physical thing, without ever building a model to hold in your hand. To me, that’s really dangerous.

I get really upset when I’m walking downtown and there are three young people walking toward me — all with their heads down. I try to make eye contact to say hello, good morning, and nothing. The disconnect there bothers me, and that’s going to get nothing but worse. I’ve got my iPhone and GPS and news anytime I want it. But my mindset is: I’m not married to this thing. I don’t have to look at it every five minutes. I can kind of use the technology for what I need. I feel pretty balanced that way. […] 

As always, the article is well worth reading in its entirety.

(Via my friend @loox)

A matter of granularity

February 9, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Tech Life

Let me begin by stating that asking whether the iPad is a personal computer or not is a pointless question. Is the Isetta a car? It has no useful boot, it’s quite small, and some Isettas had three wheels. Still you drive it, it takes you from A to B, it has car controls, it evidently is not a motorcycle or a van or a truck, etc. Yes, like the more modern Smart, it is a peculiar car. Both these small cars have very specific features to meet specific needs. You won’t buy a Smart if you have a large family, if you travel by car a lot and need ample space for your luggage and personal belongings, or if you live in places where you need to drive across off-road paths and difficult terrain.

The car industry, over the years, has produced so many different vehicles that today we can safely say there’s a type of car for every need. Saloon cars, station wagons, space wagons, SUVs, jeeps, fastbacks, sports cars, utility cars, minivans, you name it. They have achieved a certain level of granularity. You certainly won’t bring your family of 5 on a 2‑seat sports car, or load logs on a Ferrari. Apart from obvious design and aesthetic preferences, one tends to purchase the type of car that most suits one’s needs.

The parallel between cars and computers here seems quite obvious to me. Personal computers, too, are achieving new levels of granularity, addressing more and more refined, specific needs. Both Car and Personal Computer are very generic labels taken on their own. Both suggest a certain idea, of course, but if we look at their specific models and shapes — especially through their respective histories — we’ll end up with hundreds of different examples. 

But, as its inability to carry logs or climbing very steep slopes doesn’t mean a Smart isn’t a car, similarly the fact that the iPad lacks a built-in physical keyboard or the typical array of ports, or that it doesn’t come with a CLI (command line interface), or that it lacks the same kind or level of multitasking as a traditional personal computer, doesn’t mean it isn’t a personal computer.

It’s truly personal

I for one think that there hasn’t been, in the whole computer history, a more personal device than the iPad. That’s because it’s the personal in Personal Computer what has subtly changed. The traditional personal computer of the last three decades has been called ‘personal’ to indicate, basically, a general-purpose machine that was meant for an individual user. Its level of ‘personal-ness’ was coarse, though: it was ‘personal’ in the sense that, well, you bought it, or only you were using it at the company’s office, or that it wasn’t a mainframe managed by a staff of technicians, things like these. And then, of course, there was the ‘general purpose’ aspect. A general-purpose device can potentially do a multitude of tasks, and those not only depend on the applications you decide to install on it, but also on your computer knowledge: power users, programmers, scientists can develop their own specific software, and have the computer perform many other processes. The average user wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

The iPad is personal in a deeper sense. Its level of ‘personal-ness’ is more refined. The iPad is a granular personal device. It’s a ‘personal’ computer in the sense that it’s designed to meet the personal needs of each and every user by offering them an easy-to-use modular operating system, a system made of bricks (apps) the user can choose from a big box (the App Store) and assemble in the way the user sees fit. The meaning of ‘personal’ in the definition of the iPad as a Personal Computer is closer to ‘intimate’, if you want. The iPad can’t even be shared among multiple users (sure, you can pass the device to a friend momentarily if he needs to check something online, for instance, but iOS doesn’t support multiple user accounts). 

You can perceive the higher granularity in the way the iPad is ‘personal’ also considering another important aspect: it is a computer truly designed around the user. It embodies the simplicity of an appliance and the sophistication of an advanced computer. It can perform a variety of sophisticated tasks without requiring technical knowledge from the user. And what’s more, it can perform such tasks in a brilliant, fun, user-friendly way. This is, I believe, the main reason lots of people are buying iPads, even for replacing traditional computers. Users love the iPad’s immediacy: What do you want to do? Tap here, tap there, done. You can choose from a menu as vast as the App Store. The only intimidating thing with iOS is the amount of apps you can choose from. You don’t have to ‘learn to use’ the operating system before doing whatever it is you want to do. You don’t have to worry about stuff you shouldn’t be worrying about, like keeping an anti-virus database updated or configuring a firewall.

While the iPad can’t fully replace a traditional computer for everyone, I think it is actually the first device to be more personal than any personal computer. It’s a matter of granularity.

Why I still use a compact camera

February 6, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Tech Life

It seems that compact digital camera sales aren’t so strong lately, and it’s probably because an increasing number of people are using smartphones as their main photography tool when they’re on the go. I wrote ‘smartphones’ out of politically correctness, when in fact I should just have written ‘iPhones’. Anyway, the trend is completely understandable: the iPhone 4 and 4S are equipped with good quality cameras, but more importantly they are devices you always have with you; they’re light, pocketable, convenient. It’s undeniable, and since I got my first iPhone (a 3G), I certainly have shot a healthy amount of digital snapshots with it. On some occasions, when I didn’t have any other camera with me, I was able to capture a few good moments with my iPhone 4, moments which I would have lost otherwise.

However, the iPhone hasn’t yet completely replaced my compact digital camera and isn’t likely to (at least in the short-medium term). Why? Here are some quick observations.

It’s true, the iPhone is always with me and it’s the sleekest, lightest and most compact camera I’ve ever had, but it’s not the quickest or the easiest to handle. With the iPhone it’s practically impossible to shoot one-handed. You have to hold it steady with one hand and touch the shutter button with the other, especially in portrait mode (which is, I believe, the preferred orientation for many people). Also, the combination of the iPhone’s shape (the iPhone 4/4S’s even more than the 3G/3GS’s), the position of the camera lens, and the Camera app’s interface forces you to hold the iPhone somewhat delicately in your hands. You certainly do not experience the same firm grip of a traditional digital compact camera. Most of these cameras are designed to provide a comfortable grip that often allows you to shoot one-handed and simultaneously keep the camera steady. I still carry with me a relatively old 7.1 megapixel Nikon Coolpix 7600 which is very compact but despite its compactness it can be handled firmly and reliably with one hand:

In hand1

The photo shows a Nikon Coolpix 7900, which has the exact same body design and size of my 7600. (The photo is © dpreview.com)

 

Yes, the screen is ridiculously small compared to the iPhone’s and not as dense or brilliant, but for street photography my little Nikon is actually handier. It’s rugged enough so it doesn’t need a carrying case. When I see a scene I’d like to capture, I might only have a few seconds to shoot it (subjects are in motion, or other subjects might enter the frame, ruining the shot, or maybe it’s me the one in a hurry). I’ve found my Nikon to be faster and more precise on these particular occasions: I take it from my pocket, turn it on while already pointing it towards the scene, quickly frame and shoot. All with one hand. With the iPhone I could never be equally fast and accurate.

Don’t get me wrong: the iPhone is a good photography tool and has plenty of other advantages over a regular digital camera, especially over a seven-year-old digital camera like mine. With all the photo apps available in the App Store, you can easily adjust and edit any snap you take directly on the device itself, and of course you can instantly publish it online or share it in a number of ways. But when speed is of the essence, and/or maybe I only have one free hand, I reach for my Nikon.

Other features most traditional digital cameras have and iPhones have not, usually make me choose the camera over the iPhone even when I can take my time to shoot something or I can use both hands. I’m talking about things like an optical zoom, a good macro mode, and the ability to manually change certain parameters like white balance. Sometimes the iPhone is the best device available but maybe not the best per se for taking the photo I want. Conversely, sometimes I take a great picture with my Nikon but I can’t wirelessly upload it somewhere or share it with other people on the fly. Simply put, it’s a matter of choosing the right tool for what you intend to do. That’s why I personally don’t mind having a second device with me most of the time. For me, the quality of the results still wins over sheer convenience.

The iOS Home screen and user expectations

February 2, 2012
by Riccardo Mori
Tech Life

While reading the fine 512 Pixels by Stephen Hackett, I noticed he pointed to an article by Federico Viticci at MacStories, titled The Problem With The iOS Home Screen. With a title like that, it’s easy to just click and go there and see what it’s all about. Since I don’t really have any significant problem with iOS’s Home screen, I was interested to read Viticci’s take on it. I read the article twice, and the feeling I had after reading was that either I was missing something, or Viticci was. Or maybe both. A few commenters were unnecessarily harsh with Viticci, but I have to agree with those who said that the article is somewhat vague, and that, in the end, it’s not really clear what this ‘problem’ with iOS’s home screen is.

Viticci writes:

The concept of the Home screen we interact with today is broken because the Home screen wants to be a real, physical, tangible surface while providing access to the gates of the intangible: apps. Apps are data, information, connectivity, presentation, media. […] The iOS Home screen is based on the concept that app icons are objects on top of it; this has created a series of issues over the years.

And again remarks, as a conclusion:

The problem Apple needs to overcome is that the Home screen tries to be a real object while providing access to the gates of the digital world.

It’s funny, because I’ve never looked at the Home screen that way. Also, I’m not entirely sure the Home screen wants to be a ‘real, physical, tangible surface while providing access to the gates of the intangible’. What’s physical and tangible in an iOS device is the outer glass. What’s beyond the glass is a metaphor, exactly like the desktop metaphor of a traditional computer.

The problem — if there’s really one — is that while traditional computer GUIs all revolve, in a way or another, around a generally recognised concept (the virtual office desktop), iOS and other smartphone platforms don’t really have a universally accepted metaphor. They share common traits, sure, but not — as far as I know — a common GUI metaphor like traditional computer operating systems do.

It is perhaps for this reason that my experience when trying different phones has been more frustrating than using different computer operating systems. When you’ve been using the Mac OS for a long time and then you happen to use Windows 7 or Vista or some flavour of Linux, you generally find your way around rather quickly. Some objects may have different positions, others may have slightly different names, but the fundamentals of the virtual desktop concept always guide you almost unconsciously, so you expect that a whole bunch of actions (copying objects, creating folders, moving or deleting files, etc.) will be similar, if not identical, on all systems. iOS, Android, webOS, and Windows Phone are different beasts. Certain gestures on iOS may give unexpected or different results on Android or WP7 (or no result at all). The simple task of copying and pasting text is, I believe, performed in a unique way on each of those platforms.

When there isn’t a universally recognised concept behind the Home screen of a smartphone or tablet, it’s users who (consciously or unconsciously) supply their own metaphor to use such devices as proficiently as possible. But what happens after a major update is that the manufacturer may introduce new concepts or layers of abstraction that ‘break’ whatever concept the user imagined to interact with his/her device. Apple is allowed to introduce the multitasking tray and the Notification Centre overlay because, well, there were no rules fixed in stone to break in the first place.

(And if there were, it’s my belief that Apple broke them for the sake of pragmatism. I never believed folders would work on iOS: before Apple implemented them I thought there was no effective way to introduce them without creating some serious design friction. Apple instead did a pretty good job. Same goes for copy-and-paste. And yes, I believe that given all the spatial constraints they had to face, even the multitasking tray and Notification Centre have been clever implementations.)

What happened in Viticci’s case, I think, is that Apple somehow ‘broke’ whatever expectations he had from iOS’s Home screen or iOS’s general metaphor, creating that subtle feeling that ‘something’s wrong with this picture’. In my case (and presumably in other people’s case), having different expectations or no ‘conceptual’ expectations at all, Apple didn’t break anything and I’m still quite satisfied with my iOS user experience. This is why, I believe, some of those who commented on Viticci’s piece asked him what his problem was.

My personal iOS metaphor

As a brief aside, since I’m on the topic, I’ll tell you how I’ve always perceived the iOS environment: as an augmented TV remote, where each app is a ‘channel’, providing its unique experience. I don’t really care about what the Home screen is supposed to be. To me, it’s simply a container of channels. Each app can have the icon it wants, whether completely abstract (iTunes, App Store, Shazam, Flipboard, etc.) or totally skeuomorphic, as long as it’s distinctive. It’s evident that with this kind of simple metaphor, I’m pretty much open to anything Apple may add on top of it (or underneath). My only concern is user interaction: the thing I’ve loved about Apple’s implementation of multi-touch technology in iOS, since day one, is that it’s extremely intuitive and you can learn to use iOS very quickly. Gestures are natural and make sense, and most of all they’re straightforward. The only way for Apple to ruin the user experience, in my opinion, is to break it on a practical level, more than on a conceptual one. Start creating complicated chains of gestures and actions, start implementing features that require confusing and unnatural gestures, start drastically changing/removing previously established behaviours[1] and you’ll break the magic of iOS.

 

 

  • 1. No, I don’t think the way Apple changed some of the Home button’s functionality is drastic enough to disrupt the user experience. Sure, it needed a bit of adjusting at first, but being able to access the multitasking tray with a double-click is a more powerful feature than choosing from a limited range of customisation options in the old Home button menu. When you gain functionality, you tend to accept the tradeoff involved in the slight change of behaviour. What I mean with drastic and disruptive changes is something much deeper, like arbitrarily introducing a whole different way to copy and paste text with a software update, for instance.↩