Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Negahertz

Negahertz (NHz): Noun - The unit of measurement of the amount of frustration created by unnecessarily slow software and operating systems.

My reawakened passion for vintage computing has changed my perspective on modern computing in various ways. One thing that leaped out at me recently was the discovery that old computers aren't necessarily slower than new computers.  Of course computers today are millions, even billions of times more powerful than any high-end personal computer from the 1980s.  But until recently the everyday experience of using a modern computer has usually been characterised by blissful periods of speed and productivity interlarded with teeth-grinding delays.  These delays, these periods of software- and operating-system induced gridlock, I describe with the term "negahertz."

If the number of megahertz equates to how fast a computer is in theory -- or used to -- then negahertz equates to how slow the computer actually feels in practise.  There are plenty of ways that an old computer system can feel faster than a new one.  Anyone who grew up in the 1980s will remember switching on a personal computer -- like an Atari 800XL or an Apple //c in my case -- and booting almost immediately into a usable programming environment.  Before the days of multitasking graphical user interfaces it was possible to fit a computer's operating system and a built-in programming language comfortably onto ROM.  (Although, once Apple invented the graphical user interface it was no longer possible to fit an entire operating system in ROM.) Bigger storage devices and faster CPUs spurred companies on to develop ever bigger and more capable operating systems, but at the price of turgid boot sequences and often sluggish interfaces.  Computers went from being under-powered machines that were productive in seconds, to over-powered machines that took longer to start than it took to boil a kettle.  If you think about it this is a strange concept -- strange that we, the all-powerful consumer, meekly put up with it for so long. (Of course, it's not like there were any alternatives.)

The concept of negahertz has encouraged me to look at the reality of using a computer -- and not the technical stats driven fantasy of clock cycles, revolutions per minute, or bus speeds. All of those wonderful developments in raw speed and power can be crippled by software bureaucracy and the mire of abstractions. Just as negawatts encourages you to think of where energy is wasted -- and can therefore, if desired, be saved -- negahertz has made me think more about what a computer could and should be.  A machine that puts the needs of users first -- that may not be blazingly fast but is instantly responsive; that doesn't bring interaction to a halt while the file system is busy; that has a graphical paradigm that creative programmers can expand upon, instead of being straitjacketed by; that is understanding and tolerant of errors and mishaps and that puts a smooth and stress-reduced experience first.

Of course, it is not all gloom and doom. Far from it.  In fact, we may be seeing the best of both worlds: a humane user experience driven by inhumanly fast hardware. The smartphone and tablet revolution has finally forced complacent operating system vendors to take boot times seriously and to prioritise the responsiveness of the user interface -- as they should always have done.  This betterment of experience and improvement in perceived performance has not been the direct or necessary outcome of faster hardware -- it has emerged because consumers un-purchased and un-bought slow and buggy mobile devices into oblivion.  Those who wished to survive shifted their priorities accordingly.

In the meantime, I find it a fun mental exercise to now rate slow-loading apps and websites in negahertz -- and to imagine how, with the right ideas, hundreds or thousands of negahertz could be saved.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Hate Speech

I wonder if this tendency to characterise people as 'haters' was brought about by the increasing divisiveness of American politics. It is a little disturbing that any kind of opposition or criticism toward a product can be summed up as 'hating on it'. Rather than be a hater, why not be an adversary, an opponent, a critic, a skeptic, a detractor, a gadfly, an enemy, or an antagonist? Instead of 'hating' why not dislike, distrust, oppose, criticise, be skeptical of, or consider flawed? Or if you want to be extreme why not slander, defame, denigrate, or calumniate?
So if I take a balanced view and consider that there are good things about the new Apple Maps, for example, but on the whole think there was a laughable lack of quality control -- that makes me a 'hater'.
Words are the functions of speech -- the API of natural language. Differentiation of meaning matters. Using crudely simplified language is like using a crudely simplified API in your programme; it restricts the scope of your expression and what you can create.
If we insist on 'beautiful' APIs when building our software, why not go further and reach for the right word when it comes to criticising software?

Monday, August 27, 2007

A good haul

I went to the annual Lifeline bookfair at South Bank over the weekend. Out of the silty river bed of out of date text books (some 120 years out of date) and Maeve Binchys I chanced on some solid gold nuggets. I made the tail end of one of these fairs years ago, and found much more grit than gold last time. Lesson learnt: get there early, snatch, and run.

It also helps to have clearly defined criteria beyond the author or subject matter. I was looking for good condition antiques this time, and the haul includes the following:

Most were art books or art criticism ...

2 x Kenneth Clark (HB, 1st);
3 x John Ruskin (HB, 1890s);
2 x William Gaunt (HB, DJ, 1st);

Along with some curiosities:

A beautifully illustrated (watercolour) hardback on Belgium by Forestier & Omond from the '20s;

The real find of the booksale was probably a 1930s edition of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, 1st & 4th Fitzgerald translation, illustrated by Willy Pogany, gilt edging intact.


After all these years there is no damage to the black-and-gold bookplate stuck to the cover.

As well as a dozen beautiful tipped in colour reproductions there are these black-and-gold stuck on block illustrations. Arabesques, florilegia, fantastic urns, grotesque anamorphic forms that grin like gargoyles.

It is a strange but not displeasing mixture of chaste classic line, Arabian Nights atmosphere, and a lady who could sway out of the pages of an Art Deco fashion catalogue.

I also chanced on a catalogue of a Justin O'Brien retrospective, an Australian academy-trained modernist who painted in a loosely Siennese style.

I think this is marvellous painting in its primitive, urgent colour, and in its austere counterpoint of volume and void. O'Brien is a modern who has enriched himself with the passionate study of masters who suited his temperament. There is no straining, no reaction, no rebellion. The work has the timelessness of a Duccio or a Puvis de Chavannes. But with Chavannes I am pulled up on the question of spiritual content. Like Chavannes there is purity of colour, grandeur of form, serenity of temperament. But what is the painting's contribution to the summa of Christian art? Not having been Christian in 20 years I'm not one to offer an ultimate affirmation or denial. But it strikes me that works like this don't positively add to the Christian tradition so much as offer a lyrical interlude. Time is suspended, and you find yourself back in 13th century Tuscany, but of fresh religious inspiration, prophetic insight, I see no sign. But then, the greatest popular Christian thinker of the time was probably an ironist, G.K. Chesterton, compared to figures like St. Francis and Dante who would have inspired O'Brien's idols. At least he didn't howl to the whirlwind.

There was also a paperback annual of the art / lifestyle magazine 'Colour', whose sub-heading features the charming endorsement: 'The most fascinating magazine in the world'. At a glimpse it's a bit of a mish-mash of art reviews, anthologized (bad) poetry, serialised adventures, etc. And gobsmackingly beautiful illustrations from the Royal Academy thoroughbreds of the day. The colours stand up well today and they must have been stunning to the audience of the time. And the reproductions bear no consistent relation to the text. But they're awfully pretty ... er, 'fascinating'.

Also, two calf-skinned volumes of Wordsworth and Tennyson. So sensuous to touch it ought to be perverse.

Again, a quarto of sculpture from India, Khmer, Cambodia. The perfect companion to the Roger Fry 'Last Lectures' recently acquired ...

And lastly :

Two 1st eds (I think), hard cover and dust jacketed Frank Herberts and Douglas Adams: 'Chapter House Dune' & 'Mostly Harmless'.

A good haul this year.