How e-ink tablets capture creativity, with a price

REVIEW | ISSUE TWELVE | NOSTALGIA

Written by Liam Hansen (they/them) | @liamhanse.n | Associate Editor

Any admission of what my childhood was really like will probably only result in resigned, unsurprised nods, but I can remain embarrassed as the realities of technological advancement and neurological development for youth become warped in culture wars and social media bans. I’m not saying my experience was ideal, but it doesn't hold the same connotations as it does today. 

I was an iPad baby. 

Or rather, an iPad kid – maybe an iPod Touch kid if we’re being pedantic. My parents were onto it as far as technology went, with a dad working in graphic and web design.

Immediate access to information has been a constant in my life, whether via my dad’s desktop keyboard or Safari on mum’s iPad. It’s one of the greatest privileges of being born in the 21st century, and it’s also declined in quality like Game of Thrones since the early days of search engines became fronts for broken AI chatbots. When Wikipedia is more reliable than the platforms the majority of major universities and institutions are forcing upon their students, something has been deeply, inherently lost. 

This is why, for our Screens issue earlier this year, I initially wanted to experiment with technology that had its heyday in my youth, and how those formats lived on today. Various companies, from indie startups to AliExpress fronts, have tried to tackle the menagerie of modern day technology by bringing back what people loved about technology in the ’90s, 2000s, and early 2010s. You can find phones with physical keyboards, modern iterations of the Nintendo DS, and portable CD players across the duffle bags of students who barely remember their heyday. Whether people call it LARPing or not, I’d rather be called a phony for using old shit for fun than becoming one by outsourcing my thoughts to a chatbot. 

This brings us to reMarkable, the Norwegian e-paper company who have been mocking me with targeted advertising for their pricey tablets since their launch in Aotearoa electronic stores. It’s easy to think of their products as modern iterations of the Kindle, which are still being made, but by Amazon. I trust Norway more than Jeff Bezos. 

After seeing their tablets lining tables at JB Hi-Fi, I emailed ReMarkable to see if they’d part ways with a product for a review in our screens issue. Although they seemed interested, my follow-up emails as the Screens issue came and went were met with apologies. Only a few weeks after we published, I was sent a shipping link with their new tablet, the Paper Pure, showing up on my doorstep that next Wednesday. Although we were sent the product, we haven’t been paid to share our thoughts, and the team was happy to let us come to our own conclusions on the device. 

After using it for a couple of months, I’ve become simultaneously enamoured and frustrated with e-ink tablets as a whole. Just as we were promised improving technology as we got older, access to resources became limited as costs rose, so, while the e-paper industry brings forth several benefits, lost as our lives are drowned in screen time, the cost New Zealanders and students elsewhere would have to pay makes it difficult to justify. 

Firstly, the build quality of this thing is beautiful. The Paper Pure comes with a standard marker, brushed with a fancy matte finish and embossed logos to justify its hefty price tag. Though the device isn’t made of the metals of iPads and other screened tablets, it utilises its soft exterior to trade the cold steel of a laptop keyboard for a warmer feel in the hands. 

Most importantly, these products are a wonder for digital artists, writers, editors, and illustrators who are tired of the never-ending strain on their eyes. The ReMarkable tablet whittles down modern illustration software into the basics, creating a strong medium between physical notebooks and digital tablets. The texture is close enough to paper, mostly achieved via a protective pattern on the screen. Where it excels is its ability to, essentially, allow you to undo, redo, copy, and paste without an eraser or whiteout. It feels like magic, watching ink rush from different parts of the screen, fading out of view like it’s falling into the void. The screen will instigate its own ghosting, briefly flashing the screen black to clear off any residue left from the previous page or strokes, and while it’s a bit annoying at first, you can easily get used to it. I’ve also frequently found myself using the Chrome extension that sends articles and webpages straight to the device.

As I alluded to, the issue comes at the checkout. Essentially, the device is a glorified PDF reader. An incredibly well-made one, but each piece of content needs to be imported from another device. Despite needing internet access, you can’t use a web browser, Wikipedia, or do much to find things to read on the device itself. To use the ReMarkable, you need to use the screens you’re trying to get away from. They’re drawn into the experience from every level, as you’re encouraged to link third-party cloud software through the free fifty-day trial of ReMarkable Connect, letting you use a smidgeon of the device's WiFi capability for an extra $5 a month. Even when buying a physical product, you’re paying a subscription to use it. 

This brings me to the price reveal, and the biggest reason not to get one of these devices. A reMarkable Paper Pure, like I was sent, starts at $800 in Aotearoa. The Pro models, with a soft inbuilt light for use in darkness and access to colours beyond black and white, are $900 for the 8-inch device and $1,050 for the 11-inch flagship product. Even their refurbished models are available for close to a grand, leaving this line of products well out of reach for the majority of students. 

As I’ve been working with the tablet, the key question has revolved around whether or not I would recommend the product. For something I’ve really enjoyed using, it’s hard to convince people that it’d be worth its full price. I think advancements like these, utilising technology while also placing barriers between algorithms and endless distractions, are far more valuable than forcing AI into every user experience. But, just like so much of technology, you’d be better off waiting to get it on Facebook Marketplace.