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This weekend one of the bookstores in my neighborhood (liberally defined here as “everything between my home and the nearest train station") went out of business. Earlier this summer, the same thing happened to a bookstore that really was in my neighborhood, right across the street actually. That’s two bookstores lost in the span of a couple of months. Worse, it means there are only two bookstores left in the immediate area. (I knew something was fishy when the prices on foreign books started dropping. It must have been a last-ditch effort to stave off the impending financial collapse.)

This is a disheartening trend, but I understand that a lot of bookstores in Japan are closing these days—mostly because of what is euphemistically known as “inventory shrinkage,” more commonly referred to as shoplifting. Perhaps this is true—and I don’t want to give the impression that I condone theft—but I think Japanese publishers, by the simple act of making so many palm-size books, actually encourage shoplifting. Sure, the small books are popular because they easily fit into a pocket, or a pocketbook, but that’s exactly why it’s so easy to choose not to pay for them.

By contrast, note that people almost never steal the big, hardcover books available in the public library. Is size the entire reason? I doubt it, but I can’t help but think it’s one of the contributing factors. I hope Japanese publishers will figure this out. I’d like to have a few bookstores left in my area around this time next year. 

At some point when I wasn’t paying close attention, the local bookstores seem to have collectively lowered their prices on foreign paperbacks from Unspeakable to merely Steep, so I’ve been on something of a paperback binge lately. Of the books I’ve been reading recently, one of them stands out: Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code.

It’s a rare book that can simultaneously refute the raison d’être of Christianity as we know it and uphold the teachings of Christ (which, coincidentally, meshes nicely with my personal belief that religion itself is essential, but that organized religion is often hazardous), all the while spinning out a page-turning whodunnit laden with clever riddles and thoroughly enjoyable discussions of symbolism in art.

It is, of course, also worth reading simply to be reminded of one thing that is all too easy to forget: Women are sacred.

Lest people think that I have stopped reading books, I should probably add another entry to the Books category of my blog.

I recently finished reading The Great Unraveling by Paul Krugman. Those who are familiar with Krugman’s regular column in The New York Times will probably be familiar with the theme of this book, which is mostly a collection of his previous articles. In chapter after chapter, Krugman shows how the Bush administration’s actions are systematically undoing just about everything that is good and right in our country. In punchy, three-page doses, Krugman repeatedly nails the Bush administration on everything from the war in Iraq to broken campaign promises. When taken as a whole, the narrative Krugman strings together constitutes a fairly damning indictment.

More than the book itself, though, I really admire the author. Krugman was one of the very, very few columnists who were not cowed into submission by Bush administration’s tactics after September 11th. I wish more Americans had his courage. In many ways, Krugman has been a modern-day Cassandra: Even though almost no one believed him, he was always right.

This book should be required reading for anyone who plans to vote in the upcoming elections--especially for people who actually think that Bush is a good president.

One of the drawbacks of changing jobs at the end last year was that it effectively doubled my daily commute. I now spend about three hours a day either going to or coming home from work, with most of that time being spent riding crowded buses and ridiculously overcrowded trains. For the first few months, I tried to make the most of this downtime by reading books, but that proved rather difficult—especially in the case of thick, technical books, which are the kind I read most. It’s actually a bit difficult to find room to even open a book on a rush hour train (this is even true for paperbacks, unfortunately).

So when I got an announcement about the ability to download chapters from books on my Safari Bookshelf, I immediately saw it as a great opportunity to read books on my PDA on the way to and from work. I’m pleased to report that it works really well, although it took a while to get everything set up. Here’s a quick look at what was involved.

Hello, Clie
My two-year-old Cassiopeia has a number of nice features, but one thing it doesn’t have is the ability to read PDF files. After considering a number of different options, I decided to get a Sony Clie for my commuter reading. The Clie is smaller and slimmer than the Cassiopeia, which is pretty small itself. I’ve been very pleased with the Palm OS so far, but a little less pleased with Clie’s Memory Stick requirement. Fortunately I have card readers at home and at work that handle just about any type of flash memory, but I already have plenty of SD memory cards, CF cards, and SmartMedia cards, so I wasn’t really excited about buying a Memory Stick just to use the Clie. On the upside, though, the 64MB card I purchased will be used exclusively with the Clie, which should enable me to carry about a hundred or so PDF files at any given time—a veritable library in my pocket.

Another thing I really like about the Clie is how crisp the screen is. It’s really easy to read. The fact that the screen is backlit makes it possible to read even in dark places, like when I’m waiting at the bus stop at night. Yeah, I know, it’s probably not very good for my eyes, but when has reading ever been good for your eyes?

Going with RepliGo
To convert PDFs for viewing on the palm-size screen of my PDA, I need software that will resize the document and structure it for easy reading. RepliGo 2.0 fits the bill perfectly. I’ve been considerably impressed by this software for its remarkable ease of use and its no-nonsense utility. (Thanks for recommending it, Andrew!)

Let’s talk tokens
Safari Bookshelf subscribers can upgrade their accounts to come with a specified number of monthly “tokens,” which can be used to download chapters from Safari titles. In general, one token can be exchanged for one chapter of any book on the subscriber’s shelf (some chapters may cost more than one token, others may cost less). Additional tokens can be purchased in sets of five for $10. This is perhaps a bit expensive if you consider the fact that it could be cheaper to buy hard copies of some titles than to download them chapter by chapter as individual PDF files, but $2.00 a chapter really isn’t all that much to pay for the convenience of not having to wait for a hard copy to be shipped—and not having to lug around books that are several hundred pages thick! I imagine I will soon be buying a lot more books this way, both for strain it will save on my back and the space it will save on my (physical) bookshelf.

The only thing I really need to be careful about is not letting myself become so engrossed in my reading that I miss my stop.

When the Tokyo PC Users Group asked me to order a copy of the Digital Photography Pocket Guide to give away at our October meeting (Choosing a digital camera, presented by members of the Japan Photography Mailing List), I decided to order an additional copy for myself. I’m glad I did, because this compact book not only serves as a concise reference, but it also includes a lot of great tips on how to take better photos.

The first chapter provides a general overview of digital cameras and the features you can expect to find in the various entry-level, mid-range, and high-end cameras on the market.

The second chapter explains the various shooting modes offered by most cameras and how to use them to create the best effects. Readers who are not quite satisfied with the explanations in their operation manuals will appreciate this chapter, because it contains a wealth of useful information about common digital camera features that most manuals lack. (Whereas most manuals simply describe the camera’s capabilities, this book goes far beyond that by showing you how to use those capabilities to get exactly the shots you want.)

The third and final chapter provides a rich collection of tips for getting the best possible shots in common situations, such landscape or architecture shots or when shooting friends and family pictures. This chapter alone is worth the cost of the book, not only because the advice it provides is rock-solid, but also because it encourages creative exploration of your camera’s abilities in ways that are sure to further deepen your interest in photography. It certainly did for me.

The appendix provides a handy listing of generally reliable settings to use in most situations, which can serve as either a handy baseline or a creative springboard, depending on your purposes.

It takes only about an hour to read the book from cover to cover (as I did when preparing this review) or even less if you are seeking specific information, in which case you can easily find and absorb the information you want in seconds. It would take weeks—possibly even a lifetime—though, to exhaust all of the possible shooting techniques this book presents. I’m sure that anyone who reads this book will find that you get a lot more out of it (in terms of enjoyment and productivity) than you put in (in terms of money and time).

Beginners and experienced photography enthusiasts stand to benefit most from this guide, but even pros can glean useful information from it. Given the number of useful tips packed into this compact guide, it is safe to say that no digital photography kit is complete without it.