@craigmod

Oh, how unimpressed I was at first. You slippery, heavy thing, you. Causing my wrists to ache; unable to stand on your own; lower pixel density than my iPhone. Worthless!

In bed I’d reach for my paperbacks or hardcovers before I’d reach for you. You were just too awkward. Comfortable positioning eluded us. We’d dance under the covers a bit, then give up with a sigh.

Sure, photos looked great. And giant text was something to marvel at. But general typography — book typography — was still a mess. iBooks faux double page spread hurt my head. Even Kindle’s layout felt forced: line lengths were too long when the type got small. And that Pop Sci app — what the hell? To top it off, if I set you down on a table the angle was all off. Aching neck and wrists, I’d sigh again and pull out a paperback wondering just what to do with you.

There you sat on my floor, like dirty underwear in a college dorm room. Weeks went by. I didn’t even power you on. Before long you were covered in a generous layer of dust. You looked so sad, really. Gingerly I picked you up, brushed you off with a towel and decided to give you another try.

“This time it’ll be different,” I thought. “This time we’ll make it work.”

I bought a case; that simple rubbery Apple case. Suddenly, it was as if all your acne cleared up, your braces came off and you got Lasik. Who was this sitting in front of me? Confident? Well angled?

You were propable! Non-slip! And because of this you sat in usable postures. You were maturing, too — with better applications arriving every day. Instapaper was finally released bringing fine typographic control to the iPad reading experience. This, I now see, was my gateway drug. (Thanks, Marco.) Setting beautiful margins, font size and leading, I spent mornings catching up on long-form journalism — Bernstein, Clifford, Dittrich, Wallace — and digging into new books.

We refined our dance — “look,” you said, “this is how you use me,” propped up by the rubber case just behind my breakfast tea and bagel. “See, I don’t always need to be held like my cousin.” “Cousin?,” I asked. With the roll of your eye you replied, “iPhone, duh.”

Suddenly other things about you started to make sense. Kindle’s pagination combined with generously sized type made it a joy to read from afar — just a quick tap for a whole new screen of content. And the distance made up for the lack of granularity in your resolution (which, you have to admit, is looking *pretty* lame next to the new iPhone).

I began to poke — *ahem* — and prod your typographic potential; performing tests in my role as the world’s most ornery scientist. Always dissatisfied. Searching for the best balance between content and your screen.

You’re a big boned lass with a wide and long canvas, and as such can wield lots of white space. But finding the perfect point to hang the text block isn’t always obvious. Combine your two faces (landscape and portrait) with an array of fonts and, well, there’s lots of layout options to explore. What I’m trying to say is, you’re *deep*.

Day by day you reveal more of your potential and I now drain your battery with alarming frequency. Very much enjoying all our time together.

I think back to our honeymoon — maybe it was good to start off on the wrong foot. I mean, really, with so much expectation disappointment was inevitable. It was like having an arranged marriage with a beautiful Indian princess only to find out she has deadly halitosis. So many things were right on the surface, but just enough was off to ruin the experience. We’re still trying to figure out what to do in bed but the rest of the relationship seems to be going well — and your breath smells great now. Fingers crossed.

But let’s be honest: 132ppi isn’t going to hold up for much longer. So don’t give me that look when you’re back on the floor collecting dust next to my socks. In this industry the spotlight fades quick, honey, and there’s a sexier replacement just around the corner. At least we’ll always have those few books over bagels.