Apr. 30th, 2012

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Definition: (OED)

Suitable for the intended use; fully capable of performing the required task.

English Law decrees that any object sold must be “fit for purpose” e.g. being made and capable of doing what it was made for. Simple as that.

I would ASSUME, therefore, that the Kindle, being an “e-book reader” was designed, built and more importantly – INTENDED to be a device for reading e-books.

That is unless I’ve got my wires crossed.

Now, I have been known to be careless with technology, but as my Kindle was a gift, and an expensive gift from someone who knew I needed one, I have taken such—SUCH!!—care of each and every Kindle that I’ve received that this is the main reason I was incandescent with rage when I sat down in the park yesterday with my Kindle (in its sturdy carrying case) only to find—ONCE AGAIN—that the ink was scrambled all over the place, as if someone had taken a piece of sandpaper to it.

I believe that this is the fourth Kindle that’s gone wrong in less than a year.

That, Amazon, in case you were not getting the point, IS NOit:  T “Fit For Purpose”.

I do not read my Kindle in the bath.

I do not read my Kindle in the rain.

I do not read my Kindle down the beach (as advertised on your TV ads, I’d never DARE in case a drop of seawater got on it, or a grain of sand caused it to blow up.

It is in its leather carry case—which closes—at ALL times.

I read it:

In bed. At Dad’s sitting at a table (never during meals!). And that. Is. It.

Thank god that the generous person who bought me this useless lump of plastic, had the foresight to buy me a 3 year warranty because at least that gives me 3 years to save up for something that lasts my staring at it for more than two weeks.

What pisses me off most, I think, is that after being an ebook sceptic for ages and ages, I am now a confirmed e-book reader (although I will always buy good books in paper as keepers). And now, if I were to give up this hellish vicious circle of

1. receiving
2. charging
3. transferring my books onto new Kindle
4. Spending hours sorting them back into folders
5. reading
6. Having it break down
7. Contacting Amazon
8. Arranging Collection
9. Waiting in all day for the Collection.
10. Sending off
1. Receiving

I would be an outcast and relegated to some wasteland where people can’t read ebooks. and as many many gay historicals these days are ONLY ebooks, that’s going to affect my life adversely. Don’t go saying “oh you can read on your PC” because yes, I know and no, I don’t want to. It’s not at all fun or comfortable and if you try it lying down you are likely to break your nose when the laptop falls in your face.

I can’t recommend a Kindle. I really can’t. If anyone were to ask me I’d tell them to avoid like the plague and get something else. God knows what, I’m sure there must be something out there that doesn’t behave like a Regency heroine with the vapours just because you are looking at it. Here’s hoping.

And if it doesn’t work when I LOOK at it, Amazon. It’s not FIT FOR PURPOSE.

I suppose that their one month returns policy should have set some alarm bells ringing. Anyone remember the Ratner scandal? Prawn sandwich, anyone?

erastes: (Default)

This is the worst of the four so far, some have only had a few lines missing but this is entirely unreadable! Grrr.



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