(posted Thursday, Jan.
16)
Where's
the Fleece?
It's truly amazing that Jack
Shafer's recent article, "The Great Fleece Panic of '96," takes the New York
Times to task for reporting Christmas-catalog and retail shortages, then
ends with--can it be?--a sales pitch for where to find L.L. Bean, Land's End,
and J. Crew on the Web. True, there were other references at the end of the
article for "Buy Nothing Day" and Adbusters, but the premise of Shafer's
commentary was that the New York Times ("Tardy Catalogue Shoppers Risk
Losing Out" [Dec. 10, 1996]) fabricated a catalog shortage in order to herd
shoppers into buying, thereby playing the role of a shameless pawn in the
American sales game.
I was not a "tardy catalogue
shopper." I didn't wait till the last minute. I dogged the pages of a number of
catalogs in November and called in my selections before Thanksgiving in order
to ensure ample delivery time. What I got was "out of stock," "back-ordered,"
or "not available" for just about everything I chose. I thought I was just
having rotten luck. The New York Times ' "Tardy Shoppers" article, which
I read for what it was--a consumer report--was a much-needed reality check.
Mr.
Shafer obviously didn't order anything from a catalog before Christmas '96.
--Cydney Gillis
Amazon.Pleasure
Jonathan Chait and Stephen
Glass' piece, "Amazon.Con," doesn't jibe with my personal experience. I'm a
relatively new Web user. My girlfriend was attempting to find a book for a
Christmas present and had struck out at about half a dozen bookstores around
Manhattan. I had heard about Amazon, so we went online with my new Power
Computing machine. We found the book she was looking for, and found a couple of
other interesting books. My girlfriend enjoyed browsing through the lists of
Nobel and National Book Award winners, as well as the Amazon "Editors'
Favorites" section.
In the end, a couple of days
later, Amazon e-mailed us, telling us that the hard-to-find volume was, in
fact, out of print, and that the rest of our order was on the way. We got the
books in a timely fashion. In sum, my experience with Amazon was good. They
didn't work magic by finding books bookstores couldn't, but they did deliver on
their promises, and Amazon certainly presents some interesting browsing methods
and far better search facilities than most bookstores.
I'm not
sure precisely why you favor the overblown megabookstores over Amazon. They
both have their place and I, for one, am glad that Borders and Barnes &
Noble have some genuine competition. I agree that there is nothing like going
to a bookstore on a cold winter morning, but there is also nothing like
discovering an interesting new author while sitting in your home in your robe,
sipping a cup of coffee. How many books they physically have in their warehouse
has no relevance to me.
--Shemmy
Mishaan
Barnes&Noble.Nightmare
In your article "Amazon.Con," you compare
order time on the phone for a traditional bookstore vs. Amazon.com online, and
wait for the UPS driver to show up--while not addressing the question of
convenience.
Have you
ever had to fight your way through and wait in line at a Barnes & Noble in
Manhattan, or lived in Tokyo, where the closest Borders bookstore is in San
Francisco? You ignore the big picture on how the Internet is changing how we
buy books, and give me nothing but the impression that Slate (i.e., Microsoft)
does not want to share the spotlight with another Seattle native.
--Guy Cheney
The
Amazonian Experience
I chuckled at first, reading
the "Amazon.Con" article, but then stopped, realized that the first of
April was still months away, and that Chait and Glass were serious. Let me
illustrate the absurdity of their review.
I walked into Borders Books
& Music to find The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Christian Myth , by John
Allegro. At first I was astonished that I had to walk through the store to find
the archeology section. I then had to read several book spines, using a
well-adapted, pseudo-binary-search algorithm I have developed in my brain over
the years, looking for the author's name. It was not to be found. I then stood,
confused, for a few moments, until a human male confronted me with a question:
"Can I help you find something?"
I figured this must be some
biological version of a search engine, so I said, "The Dead Sea Scrolls and
the Christian Myth , by John Allegro," hoping the query was syntactically
correct. I was disappointed with the speed at which the engine performed, for
he, as did I moments before, searched the archeology section (though with
perhaps a less well-adapted algorithm) and found nothing. Then he suggested the
religion section, toward which I was led (still on foot). He again browsed the
books visually and pulled a tome from the shelf. "Here it is. Is there anything
else I can do?"
I grabbed the book, looked at
the cover: Yes, indeed, this was the book in question. "Yes," I said. I wanted
the scroll translations and a couple of other books on the same subject. I
didn't know the titles. "A list of all books by author Vermes, first name
unknown, having to do with Dead Sea Scrolls; also, books by Richard Leigh and a
guy with the last name Baigent, on any subject. I need publishing dates and, oh
yeah, prices." By the expression on his face I knew for sure I had blundered
the syntax this time.
Amazon.com is not a physical
bookstore, and Borders is not an electronic bookstore. You can't browse titles
on a shelf if they're not there, and you can't drink café latte over an
asynchronous connection. They're different. My first Amazon order was placed on
a Friday and arrived on Tuesday. My last order, placed at about the same time
the article's authors ordered, took about nine days. I have paid, with
shipping, about the same for books through Amazon as I would have at a local
bookstore. But I have found books on Amazon's site that are certainly
nonexistent on Borders' shelves. If you gotta order it, you gotta order it.
I remember taking some time
filling out the form for my initial order; I don't know how long it took, but I
was taking my time, making sure everything was correct. I don't remember it
being difficult. And now, after selecting my books, it takes me less than a
minute to order. I type in my e-mail address, my password, select "credit
card," punch my way through about three "are you really sure?" screens, and my
order is in. Amazon remembers who I am, where my books are going, and my
credit-card information. It couldn't take me 37 minutes, as Chait and Glass
suggest, even if I were typing with the back of my head.
Did I mention I never have to
wait in line at Amazon?
Some
trick. Some con?
--Frank
Wayne
