Buhjillions

The Oxford Bodeian Library’s collection is one of the main tangible things that makes Oxford a world-class research institution.  The troves of primary sources, obscure titles, and first editions make it a mecca for historical and literary research.

This is a promise which I don’t think the Oxford Libraries live up to in practice, because the University has not invested enough in updating the tools people use to find what they’re looking for.  The ability to quickly and efficiently find information in Oxford’s catalogs is hampered by outdated and poorly designed interfaces, and incomplete records.  The experience is not worthy of the excellent collection and international reputation the Libraries have.

We live in a world of speedy full-text search of almost the entirety of the Web, accessible instantly from any computer and many mobile phones.  As a result, libraries have a tough act to follow to make finding printed materials as quick and cognitively intuitive.  The databases libraries maintained about their collections seemed monstrous in a time before Google, but they are now very limiting: title, author, some keywords, and a bewildering string of letters and numbers aren’t much data for smart search to chew on.  Web search engines also exploit links between different pages to form their results, but collections databases are relatively flat.  Full text search might be coming, but there’s truckloads of books to scan between now and then.

So no, I don’t expect the library website to be as good as Google, but I don’t think that complete and humane are unreasonable expectations.

By complete,  I mean that I expect all records from all collections in the Oxford University Library Services to be accessible by web-based search.  As it stands, for example, Oriel College Library’s catalog is only available via telnet.  Unless you were a nerd before 1995, (or use the libraries at Oxford) you might never have even heard of telnet.  Telnet is a text-only interface designed in 1969 as one of the very first internet standards.  It’s slow, clunky, unintuitive, and there’s no way to save anything you’re doing and come back to it.

I could go on for pages about what makes websites humane, but the redesigned SOLO (Search Oxford Libraries Online) interface is a big leap forward from the previous system.  Standard web-browser behaviors, like using the forward and back buttons or saving results as bookmarks don’t break it.  It has advanced search features like boolean operators and the ability to search particular libraries.  Unfortunately, if the material is not on the shelf (which it isn’t always clear about) it simply plunks you back into the old, ugly, inhumane system to request it from the stacks.

As a scientist, I don’t often research using books. I’m much more likely to look up journal articles, which unless they are old or obscure, are very likely to be online.  Every once in a while, though, I’ll want a paper which isn’t online, and it’s good to know that the library has my back (old and obscure is Oxford’s specialty).  I’ve noticed that when using search tools by Ex Libris, a little button appears beneath many results that says “Find It Oxford.”  Ex Libris know what stuff Oxford has in its catalog and clicking it takes me to an Oxford page.  Unfortunately, this is in the old, ugly interface, and it dead-ends: giving me information about the holding but not allowing me to do anything with the information, like request it from the stacks.  If I want to do any of that, it’s back to top level interface (but at least this time, title in hand).

So, things are looking up, but Oxford’s Library access is still sub-par.  Its number one priority, at this point, should be getting all books and all the libraries available to be searched via SOLO.  The first thing researchers care about is completeness.  They can’t trust a tool that they know won’t give them all the results.  Then, it should cut the last vestige of the old system away and build a humane system for stack requests.

The icing on the cake, for me, would be seeing the full text of every title they have whose copyrights have expired accessible via the internet.  They’re partnering with Google, starting in 2005 for book scanning, but, as far as I can tell, library users have yet to see any of the benefits.  The Oxford website claims this will take three years, but my opinion of “official” Oxford timelines sinks the longer I am here.

It always impresses me the number of machines that can be made to work again just by banging on them.

The gasman was at my house today looking into why the radiators on the top floor don’t heat.  The first thing he did was take the plastic knobs off the valves and then proceed to pound on them with a wrench.  He explained that the valves have wax in them which expands when heated.  This pushes a pin into place to close them, but occasionally they get stuck in the closed position.  Banging on them frees up this pin and allows the valve to open.  Several minutes later, they were heating again!

Our washing machine also responds favourably to a good thrashing.  It occasionally develops a error with the (electronic) front panel which stops the washing cycle and causes the machine to beep incessantly.  A quick slam near the front panel and it picks up where it left off as if nothing had happened.

Some machines need to be explicitly designed to be resistant to shock and vibration—aviation comes to mind immediatly.  But many ordinary machines seem to get “stuck” for lack of a more precise word.  Corrosion, disuse, or foreign matter clogging up the works.  A quick shock to the system is sometimes all it needs to get moving again.  Maybe in the future, before calling the repairman, I’ll be less hesitant to take matters in my own hands and start by swinging something heavy.

They used to call them 3D accelerators, and eventually “graphics processing units” or GPUs, but these days graphics chips are so programmable that we might as well start calling them “general processing units.”  (DVDs play the same game with “digital video disc” taking on the wider “digital versatile disc” moniker .)  Graphics chips are becomming more powerful and more programmable—they’re becomming a lot like having just an extra processor in your system.

This has two main consequences:

Graphics programmers will start to explore alternate rendering paradigms like ray-tracing or voxel rendering.  Ars Technica has a great interview with Tim Sweeney of Epic Games on this subject.  Sweeney’s point is that with really programmable and really powerful GPUs, the rendering APIs like Direct3D and OpenGL become a crutch and limit innovation and creativity in creating graphics.  Developers will just write their own renderers using other established or hybrid paradigms.  GPUs become little more than extra processing power.

Secondly, GPU hardware gets general enough to get repurposed for other processor-intensive tasks.  I remember my computer architecture teacher telling me in 2005 about biology researchers using GPUs to accelerate floating-point intensive simulations.  Now I’ve just read, in another Ars Technica piece, about a commercial software package that uses GPUs to accelerate password cracking.

We’ve known since Alan Turing’s time that all information processing hardware is equivalent up to some small overhead.  Building specialized hardware for specialized tasks can yield performance gains, but only for large tasks where this overhead is non-trivial.  The so called “physics accelerators” which are starting to appear on high end gaming machines seem to be doomed to failure for this reason.  Hardware accelerated audio was just a blip on most gamers’ radar 8 years ago.  Why create a dedicated processor for physics/audio/graphics when you could instead just upgrade to a CPU with more cores…

My iPhone was gimped, but not yet dead.  The problem was with the “home” button, and being the only button on the front face, you can imagine it gets used frequently.  It had lost the crisp, original clickyness and trying to press it was like using a sausage to play a snare drum.  Sometimes I’d press and get no response, sometimes a double click, whisking me away to the favorites list instead of the home screen.

After dealing with the pain that is Vodafone (my previous carrier)’s repair service, I was reluctant to go down that dark path, and just dealt with my limp iPhone for a couple weeks.  Remembering that my 1 year warranty would expire in November, I finally got around to making the call to get some reparations.

Fortunately, as I discovered, Apple’s customer service and repair arm is a class act, even in a country where the bar has been set pretty low.  The first phone call to Apple went well: short wait to talk to a rep with fluent language skills, and a competent sounding manner.  He issued me a repair ID and ordered a returns kit sent to my house.

Now, the story hits a few bumps in getting the returns kit delivered.  Of this I hold no malice against the rep I spoke to; it was a simple misunderstanding.  When he read the address they had on file, I assumed he left out the house number for brevity, but as it turns out, it just wasn’t there.  So UPS received an address with the correct street, but no house number.  As helpful as I have found the order tracking website in the past, once there was a problem the cryptic “delivery exception” messages were of little use in deciphering what the problem was.  Fast forward about a week, several phone calls to UPS, and several mornings wasted waiting up for the deliveryman who seemed to need a signature to deliver me what is essentially an empty box; I called Apple to have them deliver to my lab instead.  I had my kit the next day.  This time didn’t bother me too much, since the iPhone still worked OK, but if I had a dead phone, I’d have been pissed at UPS (and probably Apple for hiring them).

Opening up the returns box was almost like unboxing a new gadget from Apple.  Carefully laid out were all the things I’d need to ship my iPhone to Apple, right down to an included paper clip to open the SIM card tray on the iPhone.  Also included was a pre-paid envelope and address label to ship the iPhone to Apple.

Once it shipped, I could use my repair ID to track the status, but it turns out I needn’t have worried. Apple sent me an email once my iPhone arrived, and, 3 hours later, after they shipped a replacement.  That impressed me—3 hours after my gimped iPhone arrived at their repair center a replacement left destined for me. Unfortunately, this was on Friday afternoon, and the replacement didn’t arrive until Monday.  Since they picked up the entire tab including shipping both ways, I couldn’t begrudge them for not splurging on Saturday delivery.

The difference between this and Vodafone’s service, which they charge £7 per month for, is like night and day.  I knew where my iPhone was at any time via the web, even during transit using UPS tracking.  When Vodafone repaired my phone I gave it to a man in the store and just waited until the predetermined pickup day.  Several times (yes, I had several repairs) I returned on the appointed day to be simply told that it hadn’t returned yet and that I should come back tomorrow.  Apple took 3 business days (5 including the weekend) to return my iPhone, while Vodafone typically took a week.  Apple proactively informed me about the progress, while Vodafone didn’t even let me know when there was a delay.

Good customer service includes the tenet that a customer’s problem is your problem until it’s resolved, and it includes keeping the customer in the loop.  Good customer service is something Apple UK has, and Vodafone doesn’t.

“Unboxing” Photos of the Return Kit below: