This afternoon, for the first time in several years of loyal service, my second generation international Kindle–whose wireless Internet service worked even whilst on vacation in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (relying on cellular service that leaked across the border from South Korea)–failed to take a charge. 

As a Christmas present that brought me much joy, it shall now take its place alongside my first generation Kindle in my living room bookcase, alongside a collection of inscribed books. R.I.P.

The proprietor of A Superfluous Man is so often enraged at corporate hotlines that it is a great pleasure to praise Amazon for its delightful customer service. Today, however, a five-minute telephone call was all it took to obtain an international shipment of a free replacement Kindle, despite the fact that the now defunct version is far beyond the one-year warranty period.

My interlocutor was a young woman named Julie, who was cheerful and helpful throughout. I picture her as an Amazon of yore, one of the Antianeirai who has removed and cauterized her right breast so as the better to draw a bow or process a credit card. To you, o latter-day Penthesilea, our eternal gratitude.

Naturally, Amazon has a financial interest in seeing to it that I have one of their devices in hand at all times, as I am a prolific purchaser of their wares, but that is equally true of the airlines and financial institutions to whom I am foolishly loyal despite years of rather grim and surly service. Well done, Amazon.