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Audiobooks: Yay or Nay?

If you’re familiar with me from one persona, welcome to my other online presence! For the first time, I am writing a piece of content that will appear simultaneously on both my fiction author and business improvement professional websites. It feels like an exciting experiment – so let’s see how it works out! I hope you enjoy the below.

Occasionally, in online spaces, such as Twitter, someone will ask about audiobooks. The query might be framed similarly to the following:

“Does it count as reading a book if you listen to it as an audio piece?”

I have to say that it is an interesting question and one that I would like to think about across the span of both my blogs.

The first problematic term is, of course, “read.” I think that we can get around this one quite easily. In the past, “reading” the book was the only way to extract the author’s intent so that you could find the space to ponder it.

Because, depending on what you are reading, the experience comes to life in the space between reading sessions. This is where you genuinely internalise the work. So, firstly, if we argue that a book is enhanced through the act of thought between exposures, does it matter in what format those exposures are?

In this multi-media age, perhaps it would be more accurate to ask, “Does it matter how I experience a piece of content?” But this question is still wanting because it only conveys half of the relevant information. The piece that is missing is one of intent.

So let’s look, in turn, from the different intents that I have experienced.

In my professional life, I am constantly looking to learn about improvement and how people interact with progress. However, if I am truthful, I do sometimes find it challenging to find the time to sit down and read. In this event, the ability to leverage my commute to and from work by listening to an audiobook presents a golden opportunity. In this case, I intend to gain knowledge and understanding. We will return to the question of whether this is an effective strategy shortly.

Back during lockdown, I became quite nostalgic for some of the books I had read during my childhood. I was much more of an active reader back then and am old enough not to have had my golden years interrupted by the pull of a games console. On the days when we weren’t at the park, playing football from dawn til dusk, my mind was more often inside something like “The Lord of the Rings” or similar.

One author that had a huge impact on me was the remarkable Roald Dahl. People just don’t seem to live lives like his anymore. He was a fighter pilot, spy, inventor, and beloved author. As a teenager, I pored over stories like “The Wonderful World of Henry Sugar” and the darker yarns in “The Tales of the Unexpected.” To my delight, I was also given a relatively thin tome, called simply “Roald Dahl”, written by Chris Powling. I devoured it – learning about the extraordinary life of one of my heroes. Even while writing this, I found it on the shelf behind me and flicked through the foxing pages. It is still a great treasure to me.

But back to the article in hand.

One of Dahl’s novels that always haunted me was “Danny, the Champion of the World”, published in 1975. For me, it is just beautiful and evocative. The reds, golds, and greens of the woodland seep into every page. Colour, aroma, texture and feeling is everywhere. I wish I could write something close, and it was very much in mind when I wrote the childhood scenes in my second novel, “Thryke: The Man That Nobody Knew.”

Isolated from the world, I wanted to see if I could recapture the magic. I downloaded the audiobook, and over the following evenings, I delighted in listening as a form of bedtime story. I will not lie; I loved every second. In interacting with this audiobook, my intent was escapism, entertainment, and nostalgia. The audio version of the novel adequately achieved all of these things, as I could just close my eyes and let the words flow through me.

But, one intentional aspect that was missing from my reacquaintance with “Danny, the Champion of the World” was understanding. Had I been listening to a complex murder mystery, my need for understanding would have undoubtedly been greater. This is one area where the physical book has a considerable advantage over its audio cousin. Books, whether on paper or e-reader, are much easier to review. It is easy to forget just how much we do skip back in the process of reading any document or piece of work, particularly when the level of complexity of the material is high.

This draws back into focus the question I asked about listening to professional or fact-dense texts. How much of it am I really taking in? Alternatively, we could ask, how much do we take in when reading? My understanding of the Pareto principle would lead me to assume it is roughly 20%. Perhaps this is why some textbooks repeat, add, and draw a series of upturned cones around a few central themes? Review loops are built in to address the fact that many of us don’t quite get things the first time around. I would certainly put myself in that group.

However, there is no doubt in my mind that audiobooks are a very important medium. And let’s be clear, they are not new. It is just that today I do not need to carry around a box of cassette tapes or compact discs. Maybe I have to consider that there is an element of nostalgia colouring how I am thinking about this. I love books.

When studying English Literature in college, I recall that we were actively encouraged to mark important passages in pencil so that we might refer to them later. I was horrified! To me, the paper book was sacrosanct! One simply could not mark it in any way. I still regard books with a similar level of piety. The thought of throwing one away upsets me, and the idea of buying one pleases me. The impact on the number of books that I own should be obvious. Secretly, I think it drives my partner to despair.

But before we close, let’s consider one more aspect where we can champion the audiobook. I have authored books in both fiction and non-fiction and have also produced audio material in both genres, some of which can be found on YouTube.

Audiobooks are very adept at revealing a pleasing cadence and texture in delivery. Not only, I would argue, do they make us better writers, but they also make us better presenters. If we, too, in both our spoken and written word, can better modulate with more attractive colour and timbre, our messages can become much more emotive and memorable.

In this sense, audio texts can help calibrate our ear, helping us to write and speak musically. Sometimes it is not what is written or said but how it is delivered. In this way, as content consumers, our experience of the media is enhanced, and we are more closely aligned to our intent, whether that be learning, understanding, or just sheer joy.

So, in drawing these threads together, I am sure that the audiobook can be impactful, in much the same way as reading the same material can be. True, it is more difficult to go back and review, but I wonder if we lose much of the subtlety anyway. Maybe the optimum learning mix is to listen to the audio and follow in the book simultaneously – but this buffers us up against the remainder of our senses. The fullest experiences engage all of our senses, touch and smell included. This is why we learn best by doing. Book learning is great, but exposure out in the world is exquisite. No, perhaps in this way, the audiobook is best when we just want to switch the world off for a bit and escape into a reality of someone else’s creation. Here, the audiobook has that other distinct advantage. We can close our eyes and give our imaginations full rein, at least for a while.

Now that is something that we all need, isn’t it?

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Toyota Principle Eight: Adopt and Adapt Technology That Supports Your People and Processes.

“The Toyota Way – 14 Management Principles for the World’s Greatest Manufacturer” is Jeffrey K. Liker’s legendary contribution to the canon of lean thinking.

In it, he unpacks the various principles that underpin and power the Toyota Production System – one of the most envied people-based thinking systems in the business world.

“The Toyota Way” is one of those books that you cannot unread – by which I mean it is impossible not to find echoes of the principles in nearly every life situation – even if you are not at work.

In my last post on this blog, I reflected on the experience of purchasing and receiving a new pair of glasses. There I thought about my eyesight as a quality system. Poor eyesight had caught up with me over time, despite the constant feedback loops being received by my brain. I chose to ignore the signs that my vision was fading and ended up with an expensive corrective measure – in this case, a sparkling new pair of varifocals.

But it was during the fitting of these glasses that the eighth Toyota Management Principle floated back into my consciousness: Adapt and adopt technology that supports your people and processes.

As mentioned above, I was being fitted for my new pair of glasses. It was a grey, blustery and rainy Saturday afternoon and outside, the light was fading fast.

Meanwhile, during the previous hour, I had been subjected to a battery of tests, many using the latest in expensive technological equipment. The pressure in my eyeball was tested by a pulse of air, and a photograph had been taken of the back of my eye to check my retinal health. My peripheral vision was also tested by a machine that randomised a sequence of small, white lights. The idea was to depress a small clicker whenever you spotted a light. I am not sure if I did not just fall into a rhythm on that test, but it was impossible not to concede that a very thorough examination had taken place.

It was then that I went in to see the optician. While technology was still in evidence, the next round of tests revolved chiefly around reading letters from the chart. This was no longer the paper version but an image that the optician could change and manipulate. Here, the technology could definitely be seen to be supporting the process. The problem with an unchanging chart is that it can be memorised, potentially skewing the measurement system. It would also require a physical transaction to change it for something else. In a lean sense, the changeover time between facilitating one test and another had been minimised. There was also some exciting elements of ECRS, as one system could be used throughout the process, hence maximising the value-added time of the optician.

Eventually, the optician shook her head sadly and explained that my prescription had changed significantly. Varifocals, she said, were now my best option to ensure that I could interact with a world that was not blurry around the edges. The next stage was to choose some frames, back in the main shop.

This I duly did, selecting a pair of highly bendy Japanese frames. I reasoned that this model would stand up to all of the rigours that the wearer would throw at them, plus they were incredibly light and comfortable. I was now ready to proceed to the next value-added process step, which was to have the frames measured and adjusted to optimally fit my head.

It was here that the eighth Toyota principle was apparent.

As I was purchasing varifocals, knowing precisely which point of the lens my pupil was looking through was key. If it was in the wrong place, I might not have been looking through the distance power of the lens when I needed it. Similarly, the reading element of the lens also needed to be in the correct position – in this case, towards the bottom. I would need to look down to read.

The lens transition point was marked with a white pencil. The alignment was done by eye by the highly trained assistant. The frames were then removed and placed face down on a card, where further pen marks were carefully placed in the pre-existing measurement grid.

It was fascinating.

After the technical wizardry of the previous stages, I was moved to remark upon this manual process.

“Well,” said the assistant, “we could use the machine over there, but this way is just as easy.”

And there it was: Adopt and Adapt Technology That Supports Your People and Processes.

The fact there was a technological aid for this process drove the point home even more. The assistant felt that she could replicate the outcome with at least the same or greater degree of accuracy and ease by applying the manual process.

In this case, the technology delivered to take the perceived pain out of this process was not being used. The expert had returned to the tried and tested method with which she felt comfortable.

It was a wonderful reminder of the eighth principle concerning the application of technology. The system must add some value that was not previously there. Technology for technology’s sake is doomed to failure.

I imagine that many of us can think of familiar processes where the artisan can comfortably outperform the machine. Let us be sure, however, that technology can be remarkably liberating. One only has to recall the beauty of Sakichi Toyoda’s automated loom and the concept of jidoka to understand.

But what is clear to me is this: the human is still the ultimate technology. We are wonderful creatures capable of achieving remarkable things. For all that is negative in the world, we must never lose sight of that.

I have an unshakeable belief in human ingenuity. I see it every day in the fantastic people that I work with. All it took was a humble pair of glasses to bring that back into sharp focus.