KB Large Type Keyboard Cover

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Backlit, schmacklit.

The Long Version: When I first considered my 11" MacBook Air, the one thing that stood out as a significant omission was the lack of a backlit keyboard. The standard keyboard simply isn't particularly visible in low-light. Apple happened to agree, and has come out with a new backlit model, but upgrading doesn't make much sense when there's the Large Type Keyboard Cover in the world. It's made by the aptly named KB Covers, which suggests a certain expertise in this kind of thing. I ordered mine directly from them, and it shipped promptly in full retail packaging.

The cover is a thin silicone overlay that fits the 11" non-backlit Air keyboard. The newer backlit Air has a very slightly different layout, so make sure you pick the right one; naturally other models are available. It fits over the existing keys well, but the shallow 'chiclet' keyboard design means that there's not that much for the cover to hold on to. Turning the open laptop up-side-down will make the keyboard cover fall off, so don't do that.

As for function, the thin material adds just a hint of springyness to the keyboard action. It does change the feel as well, being slightly gripper than the plastic keys. It's not objectionable, just different – in a few days it becomes second nature. The biggest difference is actually to the sound from the laptop, since the Air's speakers play from beneath the keyboard. The form-fitting silicone sheet naturally doesn't do it any favours, both muting and muffling the sound, but really the Air isn't exactly an acoustical powerhouse in the first place. Web videos that might have been intelligible will now need headphones, but that's always been the case for music.

The large type cover is awesome; it's hard to look at it for the first time and not laugh. I have to admit that the really big letters did freak me out for a while – I don't touch-type, but can hunt-and-peck with only the occasional glances at the keyboard. I'd catch these big bright letters in the corner of my vision and startle myself with them. Since then I suspect that my typing speed has actually improved; going to the non-siliconed keyboard on my iMac feels odd and I make a lot more mistakes than usual.

In the interest of proper product testing I had some cookies. The ones that I buy from the sandwich shop are usually a little greasy, and I can always tell which keys are my favourite when I eat them while typing. (Yes, even with prompt use of a serviette.) I'm pleased to say that the keyboard cover actually didn't show any grease marks from the experience, so it not only protects but it also conceals.

The letters are bold and take up nearly the entire key, but with a good balance of black to provide a high-contrast field. The command keys in particular benefit from the large type cover, as they add the symbol that's used in the menus for the prevalent keyboard shortcuts. It's a neat trick to make the original marking larger as well as adding additional and useful information. Apple should be a little embarrassed that someone else's washable accessory does it better.

There are a couple of other nice touches on the keyboard cover. One is that there's a clear window for the light on the caps lock key to shine through, so that indicator is retained. Another is that the button markings on the up and down cursor buttons are drawn as properly spaced keys that are the same size as the left and right arrows, even though the keys themselves are oversized and sloped on the keyboard below. The fit remains perfect, but by not blacking out the space in between they become visually distinct and easier to use. Finally, for the touch-typists out there, the KB Cover makes the landmarks on the "F" and "J" keys even more prominent than on the original keyboard.

Nobody ever got fired for choosing Helvetica. It's a classic font that's familiar and easy to interpret, and a Mac-appropriate choice since PCs use an ugly cut-rate knockoff font to keep the price of their Windows operating system down. It also has the advantage of square letters that fit the keys very well. But there are other typefaces that are specifically designed for increased legibility for people with low vision, and others designed for signage or screens and other challenging conditions. Still, I suppose if something is going to be so visually bold then it's more acceptable if it's conservative. If KB had chosen Monaco or Comic Sans then I just wouldn't have been able to buy it, and that would have been a pity.

last updated 17 oct 2011

PopCap Games' Bejeweled 3

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Don't start if there's somewhere you need to be.

The Long Version: One of the problems with Mac OSX 10.7 is that it broke the older non-native software that had previously been supported by Apple's Rosetta translator. While that OS upgrade's scheduled for a "cold, dead hands" date for my iMac, I have moved my Macbook Air to the new system. The reason why my iMac will remain frozen is the same reason why I needed a new game to play on my Air – Delta Tao's Spaceward Ho!, the stalwart of galactic conquest that single-handedly delayed System 7's release, never made the jump to the Intel architecture and can't run without Rosetta.

But never let it be said that I'm up-to-date. My new game of choice is Bejeweled 3, and while it's a current release the underlying game is quite old. I was playing Jeweltoy, the non-networked version, almost a decade ago. According to Wikipedia, its lineage can be traced even farther back to the Russian "match three" game Shariki, which was released for DOS in 1994. There are many different versions of the same basic game to be found now, but Bejewelled is the best one that I've played.

The basic idea is that game pieces can be moved one step horizontally or vertically if that creates a match of three or more pieces of the same shape and colour. Matching three makes them disappear and cascades new pieces into their place, while matching more creates special game pieces that have more dramatic effects. The basic gameplay is quite simple, but the execution benefits from sophistication and forethought.

Bejeweled can be played in both timed and untimed games, as well as in subgames with special rules and gimmicks. I prefer the untimed games, and typically play the "Classic" mode. This creates arrangements of increasing difficulty, and ends when there are no more moves possible. There's also the (new) "Zen" mode that will always have at least one move available, and so offers unending play. But aside from having nothing at all to do with Zen, or any other known form of Buddism, the game is still interrupted by some decidedly non-placid animations each time the levels change. In fact, the whole "next level" thing defeats the uninterrupted play idea. There are times when I just want to hear the stones clicking together, but for that this new mode is a disappointment.

Playing the timed modes provide more of a challenge and acutely tests reaction speed more than longer-term strategy. This mode benefits the most from being able to click-and-drag to swap positions, which is faster than the more contemplative click-and-click technique. I generally prefer games that progress interestingly toward my inevitable victory, which is why I still enjoy Spaceward Ho! after twenty years, but there's a lot to be said for getting more of a rush from a computer game. The timed modes do this quite well.

I was hesitant about Bejewled's $20 price tag – after all, this isn't The Sims, nor is it a feature film. But it's almost as addictive as the former, if not as involved, and remains entertaining long after a movie has devolved to basic cable. But more than the money, it also costs me several hours of sleep each week, and after a long session I see its patterns every time I close my eyes. Even with the relatively steep price, it's hard not to recommend Bejeweled 3 to anyone who likes puzzle games.

last updated 12 oct 2011

Carl Zeiss 35mm f/2 Biogon

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's available in black or silver.

The Long Version: Not many people in 2005 would have thought that the world needed another f/2.0 35mm lens in Leica's M-mount, but then some people thought that the iPhone wouldn't be that big of a deal. You can't always trust the pundits.

The Carl Zeiss 2,0/35mm – to use their preferred sequence – uses their Biogon design which marks a mostly-symmetrical wide-angle lens. It's an M-mount lens, meaning that it fits on Leica and Voigtländer rangefinders in addition to the current Zeiss Ikon. Made with 9 elements in 6 groups, this rear-focus design simply isn't possible for cameras that use a reflex mirror. The similar-specified 35mm f/2 lenses in Nikon and Canon mount use the Distagon design, and are radically different lenses.

Film rangefinders have a couple of advantages over digital SLRs. Their lenses can sit much closer to the film plane, making for simpler and smaller designs, and film doesn't really care what angle light hits it at. Falloff is reduced, chromatic aberration is minimized, and blooming is outright impossible. So when I decided that I wanted a high-quality system that would take me off of the digital photography upgrade train, the Zeiss 35mm f/2 lens was my perfect stop.

"Flawless" is a difficult word to use, because there's always an exception. Indeed, the Zeiss 35/2 Biogon does vignette rather heavily when wide open, and it's still sometimes visible at f/2.8. There are brighter 35mm M-mount lenses out there, and there may be sharper ones, not that it matters. What the 35/2 offers is even rendering and phenomenally low geometric distortion that's better than any other wide-angle lens, and among the very best of any focal length.

For the photo above – see it larger – the lens is wide open and focused on the metal gate, about five or six feet from the camera. There is some falloff at the edges, which is easy enough to remove if the negative is scanned by one of those newfangled computers, although any wide-angle scenic photo that's ruined by vignetting probably wasn't very good in the first place. But look at the line in the tile at the very bottom of the frame. I wouldn't dare to use that composition with most telephotos.

It's quite exceptional to have a 135-format lens where film flatness becomes the largest source of geometric distortion. To really absorb the very best from the Zeiss 35/2 needs either a digital sensor or a scanner that can hold the film under glass. That makes it one of just a handful of small-format lenses that really deserves to have its film put through a drum scanner, much like my Hasselblad and Fuji medium-format equipment. That's pretty lofty company. My Nikon Coolscan V is very good generally, but sometimes I'll re-scan my negatives after they've spent some time under a good book.

The 35mm focal length is a classic for rangefinders and street photography. The Biogon has the technical perfection that's typically reserved for telephoto primes like the CZ ZM 4/85, but without losing the wonderful sense of space that only a wide lens can give. It has consistent sharpness across the frame, giving a beautiful and consistent rendering even as subjects fall out of the depth of field. While many people – perhaps three or four total, but all prolific internet writers – are passionate about "good" or "bad" bokeh, the only OOF characteristics I really care about are "offensive" or "inoffensive". The 35/2 is certainly inoffensive in a way that will look completely natural to photo-viewers even though it may not excite certain photo-takers.

In my experience, the more sophisticated and experienced a photographer becomes, the more they gravitate to simple lenses that behave nicely without any special effects. Primes instead of zooms, modest sizes and apertures, and no extreme focal lengths. The good news is that anyone who's likely to be offended by my saying that probably won't have read this far into a review of such a classic lens.

Physically the ZM 35/2 is large for a rangefinder lens, but smaller than an equivalent for a reflex camera. The body of the lens does intrude slightly into the frame at all focusing distances. The lens barrel is entirely made from metal, and it focuses from 0.7 meters to infinity with slightly over a 90 degree twist. It has a 43mm filter thread and is topped off by the standard-issue Zeiss lens cap, which is abysmal. Come to think of it, the ZM tail caps aren't all that great, either.

The 35/2 shares its hood – sold separately, $84 each – with the 50/2 Planar, and it's a ventilated metal reverse-slope design that attaches to a bayonet around the exterior of the lens. It needs to be removed to attach filters, and can't be reversed for storage, although it's so small that space is hardly an issue. Rangefinder hoods are a personal matter, but I prefer the look of the camera with the hood attached, and there are some incidental flare-prevention and protection duties as well. Most importantly, it stops the camera from tipping forward when it's put down on the table at Starbucks.

I suspect that Zeiss doesn't really intend for people to actually use their caps. One huge upgrade that I made with my 35/2 is to replace the lens cap with the micro-size hood hat, which gives better protection from damage and is much harder to forget about. One rite of passage with a rangefinder is to take a photo with the lens cap still on. On an aperture-priority camera like the Ikon this results in an extremely long exposure, which is usually enough to announce the mistake. On a fully manual camera, especially one without a built-in meter, the all-black frames can go on for quite a while.

An aspect of the rangefinder culture that amuses me is that "Made in Japan" can be treated like a derogatory label. Nikon users endlessly quest for cameras and lenses made there, but with the Zeiss lenses it's used to mark them as somehow inferior, or inauthentic, compared to products made in Germany. It must be based on that fine German tradition of quality automotive craftsmanship. I can't say that I've noticed any quality differences between my Zeiss lenses and the Leicas that I've used, but I'll update this section if someone ever looks at one of my photos and says "it's too bad your lens only has ten aperture blades instead of eleven."

The Carl Zeiss Biogon T* 2/35mm ZM – to give its full name, including university degrees, for the benefit of the search engines – just gets out of the way of the photographer. I don't think I've ever heard anyone call it "dreamlike" or use any other mystical terms to describe it; while that kind of lens can be quite nice this simply isn't one of them. With its neutral angle of view and its optical fidelity, it's about as far from a Lomography camera as you can be while still using film. But for those who may worry that the technical excellence of the lens might somehow compromise its artistic ability, rest assured that there's always vignetting.

The Zeiss 35/2 is the main reason why I bought my ZM Ikon. There's simply no match for it, not from other rangefinders or in other formats. The lens and camera suit each other perfectly, and offer something genuinely different from the parade of DSLRs that become obsolete every two to four years. Yes, the Ikon and 35/2 cost as much as the currently-heavily-discounted Canon 5DmkII and 24-105 lens, but it's the battle of the ephemeral commodity with a modern – yet timeless – classic. This is a lens that's worth stepping off of the upgrade path for.

last updated 8 oct 2011