Driving Me Crazy 06/28/2011
 
Two articles came out in the past week about transportation problems, and both present radically different analyses of the problem and the solution. The first is by Bill Ford, the great-grandson of Henry Ford. For Ford, gridlock can be solved by technological innovation – by getting cars to "talk to each" other (because that's the problem with cars these days, they're introverts) and by building smart roads. The other article, by Elisabeth Rosenthal, describes explicitly car-reducing changes to planning in cities like Zurich and Munich. This vision of the transportation problem focuses on the social aspects of mobility. I easily side with the approach described by cities in Rosenthal's article and I hope that someday U.S. cities will wake up and start building cities we can live in instead of building infrastructure to drive through. 

Here are excerpts and the links to the original articles.

Why the world faces a massive traffic jam
by Bill Ford
"We need smart cars and smart infrastructure that communicate with each other while using real-time data to maximize their efficiency. We also need to tie in innovative and unique solutions that in their own way address global gridlock."

Across Europe, Irking Drivers Is Urban Policy
by Elisabeth Rosenthal
"Around Löwenplatz, one of Zurich’s busiest squares, cars are now banned on many blocks. Where permitted, their speed is limited to a snail’s pace so that crosswalks and crossing signs can be removed entirely, giving people on foot the right to cross anywhere they like at any time."
 
 
I have to admit it. When I wrote the last entry, I already had Jacek Utko in mind. You may have read Newspaper Troubles: Part 1 and thought: "that's so 2008". I agree. But since nothing has changed, I don't feel redundant. 

To summarize: newspapers are great. But they suck. That is, newspapers provide important, timely news in print form, and there's nothing like reading on real paper. (Sorry Kindle.) Furthermore, we should stave off the tabloidization of everyday news as long as possible. And I just can't imagine a world without lots of quality, local reporters. 

But newspapers suffer from a failure of imagination. It's like the automobile: 100 year old technology running on the fumes of advertising. Newspapers could –and should– become more relevant by submitting to a complete redesign process.

Which brings us to Utko. His approach to newspaper design is cutting-edge. It will leave you wondering, "why didn't someone think of that earlier? And why aren't more newspapers doing this now?" 

So watch. Enjoy. Then send this video to the editor of your local paper.

 
 
I’m sitting in a coffee shop on Sunday afternoon. It’s a hot, lazy afternoon. I have the advertisement-stuffed edition of Raleigh’s News and Observer, and a similarly thick New York Times. I start with the local paper. I saw a headline about “To Kill a Mockingbird”, which I intend to read this summer, and I want to get to it right away. 

Not so fast. As I pull the Observer out of the bag, several large and awkwardly sized flyers begin to slide out. I intervene by wedging the paper between the top of my tummy and the table edge. My reflex cost me some dignity with those around me as my arms took turns winding around under the paper and scooping it onto the table. I noticed a small ink smear in the middle of my yellow shirt. Once on the table, the paper was no less a threat; it flopped open and rested against my coffee cup, which waited for a slight nudge from Section B to send it splashing onto the floor. My phone has also gone missing. I found it sandwiched behind the comics but in front of the classifieds. In a single moment, my tiny table had gone from Haussman’s Paris to Rio’s favela.

After a few minutes of shuffling about, moving each item at least three times – table to nearby chair, chair to book bag, book bag back to table – I had managed to reinstate some order. I had also managed to butter my hands in newspaper ink; my hands, in turn, had left smears on my laptop, my phone, other parts of the newspaper, and probably not a few places between my neck and my forehead. Undaunted and thoroughly committed to reading the news (as I’ve heard this is an important thing to do – or at least gives the impression that one is learned), I snatched the Arts & Living section from the mangroves of the Sunday edition and started to read.

That is to say, I read the title and stared at a stylized graphic intended to sum up Mockingbird. I could do no more at this point because the article started below the fold, and I had not yet opened it full-length. Even the top half of a newspaper is large by reading standards. My phone, on which I read much of my email, has a three inch screen. The Kindle has a six inch screen. The book I’m reading currently has eight-inch pages, though the text is probably only six and a half inches diagonally. My laptop has a thirteen-inch screen, and I often read pdf’s just fine. The top half of the newspaper alone measures around sixteen inches. (I’m counting with the bend of my index finger here.) Sixteen inches! Western society hasn’t printed reading materials on pages that large in centuries. But remember that’s just the top half. Altogether, an unfolded front page yields an astonishing 28 inches. An entirely open newspaper spread renders to the reader an unfathomable 38 inches – about as larger (or a little larger) than most flat screens sold for living room use in the US.

When I opened up the paper to its full size, able now to read the article and see the corresponding picture, I had to make a choice: hold it like a giant wet lasagna noodle, or drape it over the table like a bath towel. I opted for the former, and started to read the article titled “Does ‘Mockingbird’ still matter?” The title’s provocative title is elaborated upon by interviews with local citizens and national writers, who answer the title question with heartfelt but not entirely homogenous reflection. I am just getting into the article when, in the middle of the fourth paragraph, the sentence I’m reading ends without conclusion or a period. I see this:

SEE ‘MOCKINGBIRD’, PAGE 4D

I turn the front page of section D over (which, as I've said, means I'm holding a large TV in front of me) and I am immediately taken in by pictures of modern dance, the Mona Lisa, and gazpacho. Focus. I turn the page again scanning for my article. A fold in the crease of the page buckles, and the top and bottom thirds flips under enough to obscure several articles which now appear to start over the horizon of the page. I try to shake it back into shape, but my right thumb hadn’t pinched 6D through 14D, and several pages begin to slide. I lay it on the table, shake the pages together, and try again. This time I get the paper to hold its shape, and I find my article. Of course, by this time I have forgotten what exactly I was reading and I can’t infer enough from the sentence fragment to avoid going through the process all over again. I try to keep the newspaper in place and just move my head around to the front, contorting my left arm out of my line of sight. I find the first half of the sentence, but I don't even bother reading it.

By now my arms are too tired to hold the paper vertical in a Normal Rockwell position. I bring the edges back together, flip the top down and toss it on the chair beside me. It lays there with a pathetic bubble where the folds failed to line up, mistreated, unread, and ready to be recycled. I find the same article online for free and read it top to bottom on one continuous page in a matter of minutes.

(Better yet, if you have the new Safari web browser, you can use the “reader” feature to view an easy-to-read version of the article.)