The Design of Everyday Things

The main question in my mind after listening to this audiobook is easily enough answered: How old IS this book, anyhow? In the introduction the author talks about how the book isn't dated. Well, it was originally published in 1988. One of the most talked-about pieces of technology discussed is the videocassette recorder. The VCR. The computers being discussed are about a step beyond the ones that could add three numbers together using a bank of systems that would fill a room. Some of the book is relevant no matter what, as the prologue or forward or introduction or whatever it was points out. But not all of it is.

Much of the point of this book is: "When people have trouble with something, it's not their fault. It's the fault of the show more design." And I don't buy it. Maybe it's because I have less faith in humanity than the author does, but – well, I've seen it (including, to be honest, in myself). I did not like the book [book:Wizard's First Rule], but something I love and always use is the explication of Wizard's First Rule: "People Are Idiots". Yes, it should be obvious whether a door needs to be pushed or pulled to get the thing open – but in most if not all of the cases I've seen it's not actively hidden. In my experience, people just don't read.

Example: I can't tell you how many emails I've sent, only to have to reiterate some or all of it almost immediately. I used to run an international online-based Secret Santa, and every year after the emails went out I braced myself for the slew of responses asking questions that were answered in the initial email. Because people don't read.

I've learned that when I ask two questions or provide two pieces of information in an email, the second one is going to go completely unnoticed. More than two? Forget it. Now, I've long ago learned that my tendency to wordiness won't fly in business emails – I've learned to pare it down. Still, people don't read.

Recent example: in reply to a question from one of my bosses, I wrote "I’ve attached [three pieces of documentation for a delivery]; it looks like there was no delivery ticket created." That was the first line of my email. One of them replied with "Do we have delivery ticket?" I sat and stared at it for a couple of minutes, and then just wrote back "There was no delivery ticket, as far as I can see". I just don't understand.

Example: I can't tell you how many people go up to the fax machine in the office and ask whether paperwork has to be face-up or face-down. (The owner of the company asks every time.) (Every. Time.) How do you work in offices as long as these people have without learning that there is a little graphic on the machine to answer just that important question. (I also can't tell you how many blank faxes I've received over the years, because people a) didn't read and b) didn't ask, and just faxed away. Upside down.) The design is just fine: the question is answered. I'm not sure how else it could be addressed; bright colors or flashing lights? Or big letters? Nah. It's fine. People are idiots.

So your car radio is difficult to use while driving? Here's a thought: Don't use it while driving. You might want to watch the road instead.

The author talks about an expensive hoity toity Italian washing machine – it was so badly designed that the owners were afraid to touch it. "Why did they buy it?" the author asks. Well, because it's an expensive hoity toity Italian machine – and they're stupid. They wanted conspicuous consumption, or got snowed by a salesman who saw their weakness. Plus they probably hire someone to do their laundry anyway, or at any rate seem to be able to afford to.

And the author complains about the problems inherent in lowering a projection screen in a lecture hall – but it sounds like the hall long predates slide projectors. The projector had to be installed in the place long after the fact, and in such a way (I would assume) so as not to do any mischief to the structure or artistry of the room. So – yeah, it's not perfect. It doesn't exist in perfect conditions. Work with it. Or hold your lectures somewhere else.

And the author complains about senseless instructions for those VCR's, and all I could think was, well, they're often translated badly from Japanese.

The author talks about a design feature – or not – in an Audi which allowed the sunroof to be closed without the ignition key in place, but only if an odd sequence of steps were taken. Why, he asks, was it such a peculiar combination of steps? Well, a) because it was accidental, and/or b) because a non-peculiar combination might result in an accidental opening of the sunroof when you really didn't want it open. (I say "you" because I'll never so much as sit in an Audi.)

Now, I do agree with the basic premise of the book. Of course an object should be designed so that it's not difficult to use. But … well, see, over the sink in my apartment there are three switches. When I had a tour of the place I was told that the one on the left controlled the light, the one in the middle controlled the garbage disposal, and the last one was for the dishwasher. When I moved in a little while later it took about five minutes' trial and error. Now I don't have to think about it. Figure it out yourself: you'll probably remember it longer. "Control/alt/delete" isn't an intuitive command for the computer – but the reason for that is pretty sensible: it's not something that can be done using one or two close-set keys … because it's not something you want to do accidentally. And once it's learned, it's easy enough to remember.

Okay, go back to the whole door thing. The author admits that he has problems with doors. And I get it – if there's no label on a door it can be hard to know whether you're supposed to push or pull or whatever. But – at least nowadays – I think every door I see in a public venue has a little sign. And … I'm sorry, I can't muster up a whole lot of sympathy for the person who pulls on a door that says "push", or vice versa – including me. Honestly, I have little patience with anyone who doesn't read the damn directions.

I also don't have a lot of patience for someone who goes out and buys a massively expensive Italian washing machine without making sure they understand how to use it. Yes, that can be blamed on the design; it can also be blamed on the salesman seeing dollar signs, and on the fact that any instruction manual is probably translated from the Italian – and on a level of carelessness and lack of preparedness by the buyer. I'm sorry – if you don't put in a certain level of research into a big purchase, you deserve what you end up with.

If I need, for example, to make a spreadsheet do something I don't know how to do, I don't write a letter to MicroSoft complaining about the poor design of Excel. I figure it out, or I look it up. I work with people who don't bother to try to solve any problem for themselves. If they don't know how to do something, they sit in their seats and yell like children for help – literally. It sounds like the author is in favor of this attitude – everything should be obvious, and if it's not you're entitled to squawk. It's learned helplessness.

My feeling on this is basically that if I can figure it out, or look it up, anyone can do it – and damn well should.

And read my damned email, jackass.

So, no – technology of any sort should not be intentionally or incidentally obscure. But also, and equally, people should be able to learn and follow the instructions that are present and hone their deductive instincts. It's an ability that will only ever make life easier. show less

We've all had bad experiences with technology, from pulling fruitlessly on a door that we're actually meant to push, to being late for work because we hit the wrong button on the clock radio and accidentally unset the alarm, to spending a frustrating half-hour trying to figure out how to get a word processing program to format our paragraphs the way we want them. When things like that happen, most of us tend to blame ourselves first: "My brain just isn't working today", "I'm so mechanically inept," "I'm not good with computers." But Donald Norman suggests that we should be blaming ourselves less and the designers of these everyday technologies more. Good design, according to Norman, means usability, and that means working with the show more strengths and weaknesses of human psychology. Well-designed technologies, from doorknobs to computers, should follow certain basic principles. They should operate in ways that make sense to users and not give false impressions about how they work. They should provide feedback to make it clear what they are doing and what effect the user's actions have had. They should be easy to use correctly and difficult to use in ways that don't work. They shouldn't require the user to memorize tons of arbitrary information in order to do simple things. And they should be forgiving of mistakes; accidentally hitting the wrong switch should not lead to nuclear meltdown.

Norman expresses these principles in a clear and readable style that's as user-friendly as the designs he advocates. He seems to have aimed this primarily at designers and businesspeople, but the writing is completely accessible and free from jargon -- he carefully defines the few specialized terms that he uses -- and is as appropriate and relevant to consumers as it is to producers. The book was originally published in 1988 (under the title The Psychology of Everyday Things), so the examples he uses are pretty dated, but the basic concepts are as valid now as they have ever been. If anything, it adds an extra dimension to the book to be able to look back after two decades of progress and consider which of Norman's design suggestions have become standard and which bad designs are still unhappily commonplace.

One word of warning, though. I read one of Norman's later, follow-up books many years ago, in which he touches on some of the same basic ideas, and ever since I have been much less tolerant of the examples of bad design I encounter in my daily life. I'm also much more appreciative of the examples of good design, admittedly, but somehow there seem to be a lot fewer of those. show less

This took me FOREVER to read - but it isn't the book's fault. It was me just picking it up at odd moments & it giving me a lot to think about each time. I don't design every day things, so had absolutely no need to read this book, but found it extremely interesting. If you have any part in designing anything, you MUST read this book.

Norman points out the obvious - things I took for granted - & made me think about them in an entirely new light. He breaks down the simplest devices into their basic functions & features, then rebuilds them in a way that is both obvious & yet entirely new. He then points out places where the design elements are good & bad. He gets into the basic aspects of design that I never thought about such as aligning show more the number of controls with the number of functions. Best of all, he lays all of this out in an interesting manner with common examples as he delves deeper into the problems & solutions.

When you walk up to a door, how do you know how to deal with it? I never thought about it, just used it. Norman points out the clues I use, such as where the handles & hinges are located, as well as the conventions, such as pushing to go out of a commercial door, that I just KNOW & intuitively use. But what happens when designers fiddle around to make look pretty? Can anyone screw up something as mundane & venerable as a door? Unfortunately, yes indeedy!

He relates a funny story about getting stuck briefly in the foyer of a commercial building because of the 'modern' design of the doors. Hidden hinges, lots of glass, & handles that stretched across the entire center of the door gave no clue as to which way they opened. Couple that with one set of doors opening in the opposite direction from the others & a simple task - walking into a building without much thought (actually while thinking of other things, like the upcoming meeting) - became an irritating puzzle. Not a big deal? Actually, it is.

Norman pulls out some truly horrific numbers to make a great point on how important intuitive design is. The average person has something like 30,000 different instruction sets to remember on a regular basis. If each one of these took just a minute to remember, you'd spend several months learning them, assuming a 40 hour week devoted to the task! That we've absorbed these instructions & conventions over decades & are facing an increasing number of them on a daily basis makes it particularly irritating when they get redesigned into a problem.

Note: This book was published in the late 80's. While there are some desktop computing examples given, this book is pre-Internet. Think of how much additional information is required in the wake of that. (Think browsers, email, scams, viruses, ....)

While some of the examples are a bit dated, such as VCR's, they're not terrible. The multifunctional switches, confusing menus, & seemingly random options packed into those machines have carried over into their descendents in spades. Other examples, such as phone systems & stoves, are still so on target that it's absolutely infuriating. OK, phone systems are complicated, extremely proprietary & full of more options than ever, but do they HAVE to be so hard to use? I don't think so.

I know damn well that designers could do a much better job of laying out the controls for something as simple as a stove. They've had over a century & it's still a complete PITA to figure out which knob operates which burner. I can't walk up to any stove & put my hand on the correct knob. I have to read, sometimes even puzzle out symbols to figure out which is which. Even on my own simple stove, which we've had 5 years, I wind up reading to figure out the controls. OK, Marg usually cooks, but that's just STUPID design - one more minor irritation in a world filled with them, but one that could so easily be rectified with just a bit of thought!!! It's just infuriating.

While I was reading this book, a couple of examples of its relevance slapped me in the face.
- Steve Jobs died. Why was he so successful? Many people say that he was an inventor. WRONG. He rarely came up with anything truly new. His forte was in timing & design. Microsoft had a tablet for years before the iPad but their offering never made it. Why? Because the hardware couldn't support the overall expected functionality properly AND the user interface wasn't nearly as well designed as the iPad. Microsoft tried too early, designed it poorly, & FAILED themselves right out of the market.
- Amazon took the ebook market by storm. The Kindle wasn't the first ereader & it isn't really all that great hardware-wise, but it has a great interface that leverages a wonderful support system - all good design. It does one thing & does it really well.

Long review, but design is one of the most misunderstood & important concepts of our lives. I was completely shocked by my own ignorance about it. I still don't claim to be any expert, but it sure made me see the world in a different way. show less

This book goes about as deep into the theory and practice of design as a layperson could want to go. Many of the examples are hopelessly outdated, resulting in the impression that the author is an incompetent old fogey who cannot use a telephone. I'm sure that he's actually very clever, because his diagrams and explanations of the philosophy of design are fantastically easy to understand and apply. The book contains a lot of great thoughts on user error (the examples of which had me laughing until I cried). It probably won an award ;)

We live in a world made of things. And far too many of those things are clumsy, stupid, painful to use, subtracting seconds, pleasure, and safety from our world. In this updated version of the classic The Psychology of Everyday Thing Things, Norman offers a quick introduction to human-centered design, a field that he pioneered, and to design as a discipline which can make the world better for human beings.

There are lots of examples and exhortations to be better designers, but the actual guidance is surprisingly light. Norman describes designed things in terms of affordances: the relationship between an objects, its environment, and users that describe what a thing can and cannot do, signifiers: which indicate the presence of show more affordances, mappings: which descriobe the relationship between controls and actions, feedback: which indicates the success or failure of a given course of action, and conceptual models: how a user imagines a device to work.

To these, Norman adds a seven stage action cycle. Starting with a goal, users plan, specify, and perform, executing a task in the world. Then they evaluate (perceive, interpret and compare) to see if the goal has been accomplished. People often make mistakes in this cycle, particularly due to the fallibilities of short term memory, or missing important information which is buried or not provided properly.

The acme of a designer is to stay as close to the customer as possible through this cycle, to understand what their goals really are, and their pre-existing cognitive models, and then come up with a thing that helps them achieve it. Marketers and engineers and bosses will be driven by what is possible, with matching the competition feature for feature. Designers need to advocate for their customers, for the idea of a more elegant world.

I enjoyed this book. It’s a fine introduction with a solid bibliography that deserves more attention. It seems a little basic for a design class, but I could definitely see using in an intro STS course. show less

A better title might be, How To Design Everyday Things. This is a book about process, not about examples. Maybe I was the only one who interpreted the title the way I did. But, it was still an enjoyable read and I won’t look at doors the same ever again. If you have to tell people whether to push or pull open a door, you are doing it wrong!

DoeT isn't the world's best written book—Norman's style is too often kvetchy-casual, sounding more like a modern-day ranty blog post than a classic of academic design writing.

But that is only one way in which this book is ahead of its time. The observations and recommendations regarding usable design here hold to extremely well 25 years later; even though Norman's examples concern ancient phone systems and slide projectors, it all translates perfectly well to virtual touchscreen UIs of today. And when he makes predictions about the future, he's eerily prescient. Watch him describe smartphones, the World Wide Web, Nest thermostats, and Siri… in 1988. Not only does he correctly predict future technology, he's better aware of its show more problems than today's designers.

That alone excuses the book's stylistic shortcomings and proves its undeniable worth. show less