Mark Rubinstein's Blog - Posts Tagged "technology"
Wild and Weird Crimes and the New Rudeness
I’ve been reading crime fiction and observing a great deal about the genre lately.
It seems there’s more and more blending of crime novels with horror, the occult, with paranormal events, romance, and science fiction. The genres are coalescing.
It seems to coincide with the proliferation of computer generated imagery in action-packed thriller movies. We’ve all watched scenes in which actors engage in amazing feats of skill far beyond any human capabilities (I’m not talking about Spider Man or the other media cross-overs from comic books to the silver screen). I’m referring to the computer-generated imagery (CGI) in so many thriller films these days.
I guess the blending of book and movie genres makes sense in the context of the cross-pollinating technologies that are part of our lives.
Everything blends and streams: your cell phone; your computer; your television; your iPad; Twitter; Facebook; Goodreads; laptops; IMs and texting--it all merges into an ever-expanding, increasingly-integrated information highway. There are very few stand-alone technologies now, which coincides with the increasing role of near-magical gimmicks and technologies in many novels and movies.
Much of it is great; some is not-so-good.
We’ve all seen people in restaurants not talking to each other as they press the pads on their smart phones, texting and e-mailing others. It’s as though they fear they’ll miss out on what other people (who aren’t even there) might be saying as opposed to talking with the one’s they’re with! (A friend calls it FOMO—Fear Of Missing Out). It’s part of our culture in which some people have cell phone conversations (loudly) on elevators, in doctors’ waiting rooms, and in restaurants, completely unaware they’re intruding into other peoples’ space. It’s been termed The New Rudeness.
So, while the blending of genres and technologies can be fine, some isn’t so great. What do you think? Please feel free to comment.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author of Mad Dog House (October 23rd)
It seems there’s more and more blending of crime novels with horror, the occult, with paranormal events, romance, and science fiction. The genres are coalescing.
It seems to coincide with the proliferation of computer generated imagery in action-packed thriller movies. We’ve all watched scenes in which actors engage in amazing feats of skill far beyond any human capabilities (I’m not talking about Spider Man or the other media cross-overs from comic books to the silver screen). I’m referring to the computer-generated imagery (CGI) in so many thriller films these days.
I guess the blending of book and movie genres makes sense in the context of the cross-pollinating technologies that are part of our lives.
Everything blends and streams: your cell phone; your computer; your television; your iPad; Twitter; Facebook; Goodreads; laptops; IMs and texting--it all merges into an ever-expanding, increasingly-integrated information highway. There are very few stand-alone technologies now, which coincides with the increasing role of near-magical gimmicks and technologies in many novels and movies.
Much of it is great; some is not-so-good.
We’ve all seen people in restaurants not talking to each other as they press the pads on their smart phones, texting and e-mailing others. It’s as though they fear they’ll miss out on what other people (who aren’t even there) might be saying as opposed to talking with the one’s they’re with! (A friend calls it FOMO—Fear Of Missing Out). It’s part of our culture in which some people have cell phone conversations (loudly) on elevators, in doctors’ waiting rooms, and in restaurants, completely unaware they’re intruding into other peoples’ space. It’s been termed The New Rudeness.
So, while the blending of genres and technologies can be fine, some isn’t so great. What do you think? Please feel free to comment.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author of Mad Dog House (October 23rd)
No, I Won't Use an e-Reader
Let me begin by saying I love books, whether electronic or paper. I'll read on my Kindle or a "regular" book. Frankly, I'll read on whatever's available. I just love reading and being transported to another world beyond my own. It's pleasurable to share the domain the writer has created. It's a realm to which I bring my own thoughts, feelings and fantasies, all of which no doubt, color my reading experience. It's the act of taking in the writer's creation that's so meaningful, not the medium by which it's delivered.
I've heard many people refuse to consider using an e-reader. There seems to be an impenetrable wall of resistance to even the notion of trying one. It's the usual mantra about loving the "feel" and "smell" of paper; or the pleasure derived from holding a real book in hand; or perhaps, it's the physical act of turning pages; or the heft of the book itself.
I too, love the sensory elements of reading a paper book, but that hasn't precluded me from using an e-reader. After all, one medium doesn't rule out the other.
Why do some people refuse -- absolutely reject -- the idea?
It's not that they're knuckle-draggers or technophobes because they often have smart phones, iPods, computers and Skype. And, I've noticed the repudiation of e-readers isn't limited to older people. I know plenty of people under forty, who despite being completely comfortable with the technology of our times, want absolutely nothing to do with reading devices.
So, what exactly causes them to spurn this one technology?
I've thought about it as a psychiatrist, writer and avid reader.
Maybe it's because reading is something cultivated over the course of a lifetime, often beginning in childhood. Many book-lovers were read to as children -- by a parent, babysitter or other adult. It was, for most of us, a very special thing.
"Read me a story" is something most of us can remember asking, if we think back to our earliest formative years. "Being read to" is an experience which becomes embedded in our psyches as a distinct and unique childhood pleasure. It's loaded with meaning, and is suffused with memories of nestling on Mommy's or Daddy's lap; the look of the book with its bright, colorful illustrations; or the feel of the paper while we helped turn the pages. The physical book itself became the symbol housing the powerful emotional satisfaction of having parental attention bestowed upon us, with all its attendant meanings.
The book encapsulated a deep sense of pleasure, safety, wonder, satisfaction, and above all, love. These early experiences linger with us, and can have enormous emotional resonance.
On a pre-conscious level, perhaps some of us refuse to even try an e-reader because our minds view it as a renunciation of one of life's earliest pleasures.
It's merely my theory, but when I reflect upon how readily other technologies are embraced, none of them carry the primal significance of a "book in the hand."
I've heard many people refuse to consider using an e-reader. There seems to be an impenetrable wall of resistance to even the notion of trying one. It's the usual mantra about loving the "feel" and "smell" of paper; or the pleasure derived from holding a real book in hand; or perhaps, it's the physical act of turning pages; or the heft of the book itself.
I too, love the sensory elements of reading a paper book, but that hasn't precluded me from using an e-reader. After all, one medium doesn't rule out the other.
Why do some people refuse -- absolutely reject -- the idea?
It's not that they're knuckle-draggers or technophobes because they often have smart phones, iPods, computers and Skype. And, I've noticed the repudiation of e-readers isn't limited to older people. I know plenty of people under forty, who despite being completely comfortable with the technology of our times, want absolutely nothing to do with reading devices.
So, what exactly causes them to spurn this one technology?
I've thought about it as a psychiatrist, writer and avid reader.
Maybe it's because reading is something cultivated over the course of a lifetime, often beginning in childhood. Many book-lovers were read to as children -- by a parent, babysitter or other adult. It was, for most of us, a very special thing.
"Read me a story" is something most of us can remember asking, if we think back to our earliest formative years. "Being read to" is an experience which becomes embedded in our psyches as a distinct and unique childhood pleasure. It's loaded with meaning, and is suffused with memories of nestling on Mommy's or Daddy's lap; the look of the book with its bright, colorful illustrations; or the feel of the paper while we helped turn the pages. The physical book itself became the symbol housing the powerful emotional satisfaction of having parental attention bestowed upon us, with all its attendant meanings.
The book encapsulated a deep sense of pleasure, safety, wonder, satisfaction, and above all, love. These early experiences linger with us, and can have enormous emotional resonance.
On a pre-conscious level, perhaps some of us refuse to even try an e-reader because our minds view it as a renunciation of one of life's earliest pleasures.
It's merely my theory, but when I reflect upon how readily other technologies are embraced, none of them carry the primal significance of a "book in the hand."
