Oct 25th 2012, 16:16 by T.C. AND K.N.C.
EVERYONE will be familiar with the frustration of losing a favourite book. But losing an entire library is another thing altogether. Martin Bekkelund, a Norwegian technology writer, recently blogged about a woman whose e-reader had been wiped by Amazon because it claimed her account was linked to a previously blocked account. Her books were unreadable and no refund was offered.
Though it now appears that the woman's e-books have since been restored, this incident is hardly a first. In 2009, a copyright problem led to Amazon remotely deleting copies of "Animal Farm" and "1984", two books by George Orwell, from thousands of Kindles (and proving, once again, that reality often outdoes fiction). That time, the company offered refunds, and its founder, Jeff Bezos, eventually apologised to his customers.
It may come as a surprise that this sort of thing is even possible. After all, a high-street bookseller would not spontaneously remove paperbacks from a customer's home, whatever infractions they may have committed. But, unlike with paper books, customers do not actually "own" the e-books they buy. Instead, they are licensed to the purchaser. Customers cannot resell them and there are restrictions on lending them. The transaction is more like renting access to a book than owning one outright. Plus, e-book sellers have the capability to take them back without warning.
The furious backlash against Amazon's Orwell deletions in 2009 suggests that many customers do not realise this distinction. (Those that do are clued-up on software of dubious legality that can strip the electronic locks—called "digital rights management", or DRM—from e-books.) Yet this lack of awareness of the legal terms-of-use is largely the fault of the e-book sellers. Their websites talk of "buying" books as if the digital transaction is exactly the same as one in a bookshop. And the explanation that customers are, in effect, merely "renting" their e-books is buried in long, jargon-filled license agreements that almost nobody reads.
Why are e-book buyers faced with this encumbrance? Amazon and others have never fully set out their position. But a likely reason is that publishing digital editions opens up a new form of vulnerability to the business. At the moment, people typically share or resell their books in moderation. (A well-thumbed tome has a low resale value anyway.) And they keep them shelved neatly in a sitting room, in order to have information at their fingertips and to serve as a discreet testament to one's character—or perhaps a form of self-congratulation to one's vanity.
All of this is lost with e-books: they don't suffer from wear and tear, can be transferred at the speed of light and a digital copy may seem less valuable than a tangible one. Booksellers and publishers might reasonably fear that the sale of a single e-book could result in it being shared or resold many times over, denying the author and publisher income from their product. The threat of illegal copying must be taken into account too.
Funmi Tofowomo
--The art of living and impermanence.
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