I never thought to join a doll’s house.
I worried how I would fit in.
Such small places, Arcadian places,
Sylvanian places, so bereft of sin.
I’d never fit in.
Then I heard of another house of Dolls,
Near Old Street’s blessèd Doughnut City,
O Mother Hoxton!, sanctified even through all the booty calls.
But I was too late, (too late!)
To pass through this Gate.
Such a pity.
Rotating lists of food vendors
And dewy alcoholic splendours,
Now locked away from me
Like Doreen’s petty cash kitty.
This Kafka stands before the Law:
G. S. Mattu @gurdeepmattu
In the previous piece, we ended with the analogy of the self-checkout. We begin there: on a trip to the supermarket. Let’s say, at the end of a short grocery shop, the customer packs their goods st the self-checkout, but does so badly.
In the publishing world’s embrace of electronically mediated books, bad packaging can happen to our content. But the corollary here is the grocery clerk packing your goods badly. It is the vendor’s fault: not that of the consumer. This mishandling of electronic content happens rarely at publishing houses, and when it does the customer has recourse to complain, as they would if a supermarket broke their eggs in a jumbled up carrier bag.
But if the onus is on the shopper to pack it themselves? Then who do have to blame if your eggs are broken? It is your own doing. Self-published ebooks have this problem. Not only did you do the work yourself, there is no one to complain to when it goes wrong.