Why we won’t ever write on handheld devices
I wrote that piece about naval warfare on my T-Mobile MDA compact. That was an exercise in patience and an exploration of true frustration. I would draw an ‘a’ and see a ‘c’, which I would attempt to remove by drawing a dash: indicating ‘delete’. Instead, all I see is ‘c-’ and a blinking cursor. The verbal diatribe that I promptly emitted was an effusive and thoroughly profane lament aimed at this hapless little device which believed it had done exactly what I had requested.
This conundrum is a perfect example of a dichotomy. On the one hand we have our perennial desire to shrink devices. So it fits in our jacket pockets (Apple Newton), now let’s have it fit in trouser pockets (iPod), now let’s have it fit in that loose change slip on jeans (iPod nano) - and so it goes on. On the other, we have hands. And fingers too, eight of them with some thumbs thrown in for free. As our devices shrink, we face the increasing problem that they are too small for our hands. Amazon’s Kindle is considered vast because the iPod shuffle is absolutely tiny, but anyone who has used the Kindle will notice that it is ergonomically sound.
Ergonomics dictates which devices succeed and fail. Touchscreen devices and thumb-pad keyboards have not taken the cell-phone market away from phones with numeric keypads because 12 buttons of that size makes ergonomic sense. The irony of demanding gadgets that will fit into the pockets of skinny jeans - pockets which hands can’t go into - is lost on those who want the newest, shiniest, smallest little phone/MP3 player/web browser/camera on sale. We use our hands to operate these devices and so there is a minimum size, which devices like Neonode’s N2 are hopelessly beyond. I remember Alex trying to press ‘Messages’ on his N1 only to keep hitting the ‘Start’ button.
The iPhone is that minimum. It’s no wonder that we keep praising Apple for great design: they understand ergonomics. One failing there is the keyboard, and Apple concedes it as soon as you press a key. Those who have used the iPhone know that it shows an enlarged icon after you press a key: that enlargement is the correct size, but consider the size of the physical device if Apple built to that specification. It wouldn’t fit in your jeans pocket.
I wouldn’t worry about it, personally, because as technology advances, solutions will present themselves for the problems of ergonomics in mobile devices only getting smaller. Handwriting-recognition will only improve, and as devices are getting thinner, the bulky problem that once was the slide-out keyboard will be streamlined and more widely used. But even if these solutions don’t present themselves quickly or easily enough, people will adapt. And they already have. The standard buttons on any latest non-touchscreen-riding-the-iPhone mobile are tiny, yet the best 13 year-olds out there can type “Supercalifragilistic” fast enough to win $25,000 at the National Texting Championship. (That’s at 42 seconds, by the way.) Lastly, I have trouble thinking that phones will _always_ be getting smaller. Instead, they will reach a point where it becomes impractical to get any smaller (something I would suggest they already have), and the newest models will simply boast more for the existing space. Once again, look at the iPhone. It’s pretty big by modern standards, and when its successor eventually comes around, although I’m sure they’ll advertise it, it certainly won’t be the two or three millimeters they’ve shaved off the back that will be its biggest selling point.