The speed race, at least. Books are faster and ‘more relaxing’ to read, but iPads and Kindles are ‘more satisfying’, finds new study

E-book readers might be heralded as the future of literature but a new report shows that it’s still quicker to read the old-fashioned print version of a book.

The study, by Jakob Nielsen from the Nielsen Norman Group, gave 24 people a short story by Ernest Hemingway to read – chosen because “his work is pleasant and engaging to read, and yet not so complicated that it would be above the heads of users”.

Each participant read their story using four different devices – a printed book, a PC, an iPad and a Kindle. While on average the stories took 17 minutes and 20 seconds to read, the Kindle experience was 10.7% slower than print, and the iPad was 6.2% slower.

The readers were also asked to rate their satisfaction of the four experiences on a one-to-seven scale: the iPad was top at 5.8, followed by the Kindle at 5.7 and the printed book at 5.6. The PC came in last, with “an abysmal 3.6″.

“They disliked that the iPad was so heavy and that the Kindle featured less-crisp, grey-on-grey letters. People also disliked the lack of true pagination and preferred the way the iPad (actually, the iBook app) indicated the amount of text left in a chapter,” said Nielsen. He added that “less predictable” comments included participants saying that the book was “more relaxing” to use than the electronic devices. “And they felt uncomfortable with the PC because it reminded them of work.”

Print v iPads: books win! is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Video: Twilight Eclipse director David Slade: ‘It’s an unapologetic love story’ is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is still deeply in the red despite being the ninth-highest grossing film of all time, according to industry blog

A hint of the true extent of Hollywood’s current financial travails has emerged after it was claimed that a film which racked up almost $1bn at the worldwide box office in 2007 still lost money for the studio that made it.

The industry blog Deadline yesterday published a leaked net profit statement for the blockbuster film Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which stands at number nine in the all-time global box office chart, with a gross profit of $938.2m (£619m). If genuine, the statement suggests that Warner Bros is still yet to recoup $167m (£110m) of the film’s total budget.

The report suggests that Hollywood may be in a far more precarious position than previously thought – it is already well known that studios are struggling to find funding in the wake of the credit crunch and interest payments on loans and other calculations are not normally factored into a film’s official production budget. Order of the Phoenix is listed with costs of just $150m on the Box Office Mojo website.

The statement unearthed by Deadline suggests that Warner Bros incurred interest payments of $57m (£38m) on loans it took out to pay for the film to be made, more than a third of the official production budget. The extra costs may be due to distribution fees and adverts.

It also casts into doubt the efficacy of stars making deals that give them a share of net profits on top of their wages. On the evidence of Order of the Phoenix, few films can be delivering particularly large sums to those who sign up to such contracts.

Box office hit Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix ‘lost $167m’ is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Re: TV Bookclub Summer Read 2010 The Help by Kathryn Stockett is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Re: TV Bookclub Summer Read 2010 The Help by Kathryn Stockett is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

The backlash against Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird is as inevitable as it is stupid. It’s payback for her being so reclusive

Hey, England soccerball fans, turn those frowns upside down! This summer isn’t a total washout. Sure your boys might have lost both their pants and their game thingummyjig but the best is yet to come, something that will absolutely have you rehanging your bunting, repainting your cheek and rechanting those songs that rely more on slurred sentiment than coherent lyrics. You know what I’m talking about: it’s the 50th anniversary of To Kill a Mockingbird! High five, boys, don’t leave me hanging!

More than 50 vuvuzela-free anniversary celebrations are scheduled across the US this 11 July for Harper Lee’s glorious tale about a young girl named Scout, her father Atticus Finch and a creepy neighbour called Boo Radley. From such oddly named seeds, true flowers bloom, a moral that those of us with similarly strange names find deeply heartening.

Yet with a predictability that verges on the sophomoric, a backlash against the book and its author has been building. Lee has managed to live in a state of carefully maintained seclusion for the past half century, and yet in the last few months has been attacked by the likes of both Malcolm Gladwell and the Mail on Sunday, which, in terms of learning about the modern world, is like that moment in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure when Joan of Arc finds herself trapped in a phone booth with two slackers from California (with apologies to Bill and Ted for comparing them to Gladwell and the Mail on Sunday).

It was in an article in the New Yorker that Gladwell complained about what he saw as Finch’s simplistic explanation of the Ku Klux Klan to Scout: “Finch does not want to deal with the existence of antisemitism. He wants to believe in the fantasy of Sam Levy down the street, giving the Klan a good scolding.” Funnily enough, this argument, which was echoed last week by the Wall Street Journal, is similar to one my fourth-grade teacher used, and even then I knew she was – to use 1980s fourth-grader parlance – a total loser. As the American website jezebel.com suggested quite rightly, perhaps the reason Atticus’s explanation is a little soft is because he is talking to his six-year-old daughter, whom he does not want to have nightmares about lynchings. This, as Gladwell may or may not understand, is what is known as fiction, when there are a variety of subtle voices contained within the narrative, as opposed to, say, one monotonously smug one that owes more to linguistic razzle-dazzle than to logic.

Then the Mail on Sunday, reliably, managed to scale new heights of inanity on this topic. Having apparently exhausted the stores of sneering it could direct at Christine Bleakley last weekend, this “news”-paper turned to its next obvious target, Harper Lee, essentially doorstepping the 84-year-old recluse. The paper then duly trumpeted that it had scored an interview with her, even though that interview consisted of precisely five sentences. It then conducted a masterclass in its usual method of padding, by spewing out utterly unproven rumours about the author while coyly denying them in the same sentence.

If sneering at TKAM is fashionable then backlashes have long been more so, which makes much of this hoo-hah inevitable. Another factor here is undoubtedly Lee’s reclusiveness, given that she is, by definition, not going to defend her book. Reclusive celebrities always attract both fascination and cynicism, as proven by the ghoulish reports of JD Salinger’s death in January, most of which – Mail-style – rehashed unproven rumours about his personal life. But this just reflects what is expected of the famous these days. Yesterday, Forbes published its inexplicably vaunted annual Celebrity Power List, which features such crucial players as Britney Spears and Simon Cowell. Forbes, you see, compiles its list by adding up the celebrities’ earnings, media exposure and presence on Twitter and Facebook, all of which is a bit like deciding who is important according to how often they are photographed coming out of the Groucho. But it is unlikely anyone will be marking the 50th anniversary of The X Factor. Go Harper.

News that Steve Carell is to leave The Office is hard to take
But it’s not all good this summer. Insert ominous music – Steve Carell is leaving The Office; insert zooming closeup of everyone in the world making a collective wail of despair! 30 Rock is currently the US sitcom to love, but that generally only makes one smile, whereas The Office still makes me laugh out loud all alone like a loon. Carell has said the show will continue without him and, true, some sitcoms live on after the departure of their celebrity star (A Different World actually improved once Lisa Bonet left), but most do not. Nor is that even the point.

The US version of The Office is about a zillion times better than the original UK one and this is largely down to Carell, who is not just a better comedian than Ricky Gervais but, crucially, a more generous one. In the US version, every minor character is given a real role whereas only the truly obsessive can remember anyone from the UK Office other than Tim, Dawn and Gareth. And for that alone, this weekly opportunity to watch a rare comedian who is not all-consumed by his own ego, Carell’s departure is very, very hard to take and, as his character Michael Scott would say, that’s what she said.

To Kill a Mockingbird: the backlash | Hadley Freeman is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Do you avoid difficult reads, or seek them out? Which tomes are worth the pain, and which are best left on the shelf?

On my last trip to the library I took an unexpected turn and, facing a series of alarmingly engorged spines, realised I’d strayed into the “Literary Novels” section. Primly distinct from “General Fiction”, these consisted of books from many distinguished pens with one thing in common: they were all difficult reads. Nary a one without a complex and duplicitous prose style, baffling haemorrhage of a plot or an approach to dialogue that was, as Obi Wan said, presumably in reference to Finnegans Wake, “as if millions of voices cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced”.

What was the purpose of this strange act of bookish apartheid? Perhaps to keep the other shelves safe for easily frightened readers. Or, perhaps, a siren’s call and challenge? “You, bold reader, step forth and read the Chosen Tomes – pluck them from the shelf and you shall inherit the Kingdom of Books.”

Whatever the intention, I was struck by my lack of inclination to pounce on these indisputably great works of literature. I was happier with the modest bundle of slenderer fare already in my bookbag. How lazy I’d become! There was a time when I would have seen it as morally imperative to devote my reading time to the difficult and challenging. I remember an awfully unselfaware conversation in the terminally unselfaware years of teenagedom, during which I asked a similarly earnest friend why “people ever bother to write bad books?” He didn’t know. More in pity than in anger, we shook our heads and re-opened our novels, returning, slightly mystified, to the frustrated longing of Russian peasants. We read books that were clearly quite brilliant, if only we could understand them. They might, as we never admitted to each other, baffle us now, but hopefully we’d come out the other side stronger, better people for the experience. Maybe one day we’d even impress some girls.

Nowadays I wonder how I could have read so many books that were such heavy going and which I so clearly disliked. It only shows what a cowardly, deferential youth I was. Rather than find my own tastes, my own pleasures, I tortured myself by slavishly emulating someone else’s idea of a good time. Now I know that while I find Don Quixote hilarious, other readers may think of it as an overlong Monty Python sketch. To my wife, Jane Eyre is a tear-jerking source of perennial inspiration – to me, it’s a 19th-century Dawson’s Creek. But that’s all OK. We don’t have to upset our mental digestions, devouring books we find unpalatable just because other people love them. It’s no skin off anyone’s nose, least of all the dead authors’ – they don’t have skin any more. The only people who’ll be upset are a dwindling number of old-school Eng Lit academics who still think there’s a straight line of good reading from Boccaccio onwards. And we don’t even have to tell them, either.

But still people seem to feel obliged to toil up the mountain, not for pleasure but in the dry pursuit of worth. There’s a number of online guides explaining how one goes about reading difficult books. Largely humourless, they provide tips as to how mortal readers can prepare themselves for the challenge of entering the minds of the truly great. One guide offers a list of what you’ll need that includes time, patience, a dictionary and a highlighter. Another explains that a single read will not be enough: prepare yourself for many laps through the tome if your puny brain is to have a hope of understanding it. It’s enough to make you long for illiteracy.

But perhaps I’m just making up reasons to excuse my own laziness, using an anti-canonical argument to justify not bothering to read anything mind-widening. Am I ignoring the challenging books that I know would bore me, or just ignoring anything that challenges? Anything truly innovative requires an adjustment of taste from its audience. If I hadn’t been a wide-eyed, hideously pretentious teenager then I’d have never realised the music of Xenakis wasn’t just noise. I’d have never taken the time to adjust my head to Middle English and been able to enjoy Chaucer.

There’s a line somewhere between the peaceful harbour of enjoying your own individual taste, and wallowing, too conservatively satisfied, in an increasingly stagnant pool of the same old same old. But where is it to be drawn? I don’t know, but there must be some books that challenged you but which you found more than worthwhile. Or that you still spit in disgust at having wasted so much of your life on. Please, get me experimenting – recommend and warn away!

Tough tomes: are challenging books worth the effort? is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

The trailer for the latest Harry Potter film suggests it will be suitably dark and intense. Is the JK Rowling-inspired series finding its stride as it hits the home straight?

Judging from the rather histrionic tone of the first trailer for the final, two-part instalment of the Harry Potter series, you’d think we were about to witness the second coming of Dumbledore, rather than the finale of an extremely hit and miss series which, for me, has rarely succeeded in capturing the magic of the books. David Yates has done a reasonable, if workmanlike job of the last two Potter films, but the high point was surely Alfonso Cuarón’s stylish Prisoner of Azkaban, and it’s unlikely that anything’s going to change that now that the series is into its final straight.

Nevertheless, Deathly Hallows looks intense and dark in tone, fittingly for a film that takes place after the death of Potter’s mentor, and mostly outside the usual comforting surroundings of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I remember that being the strangest part of reading JK Rowling’s book – like an instalment of EastEnders that doesn’t take place in Albert Square.

It’s the old “jump the shark” rule again, isn’t it? Yet funnily enough, it might just be that Hallows benefits from escaping its usual surroundings in a way in which Fonzie et al famously did not. Part of the problem with the Potter series on film is that it has been too safe, too restricted by the spectacular success of its source material, and too fearful of upsetting the legions of fans by deviating from it. Maybe now that the familiar formula has been dispensed with, Yates can conjure up a brace of films with some genuine identity to them. As it nears its finale, is it time to give the series one more chance?

Deathly Hallows trailer: time to potter back to Harry? | Ben Child is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Re: TV Bookclub Summer Read 2010 The Help by Kathryn Stockett is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group

Re: The TV Book Club 2010 – List of Books featured on the show and dates is a post from: Book Addicts Book Group