A worthwhile if less than objective examination of security and consumer privacy.
This debut is a noble attempt to demonstrate “the complex relationship between privacy, security and convenience” while offering an overview of current and future technologies designed to thwart security and privacy breaches. Trepp, who leads a facial recognition company, concentrates largely on consumer privacy, which, he writes, is being shaped by technology and consumers “working together…to create a new standard.” While the book certainly could appeal to consumers, it seems to primarily target companies that operate in the security and privacy world. Included, for example, are eight ways companies can lead a privacy revolution, several capsule case studies of companies that have stepped outside the boundaries of privacy, and a set of five privacy guidelines that conveniently spell out the word T-R-U-S-T. These guidelines, it should be mentioned, are built around the manner in which Trepp’s company, FaceFirst, approaches privacy and security protection. In fact, the entire book skews rather heavily toward facial recognition technology; parts two, three, four, and five of a six-part work rely primarily on facial recognition and biometrics to guide the discussion. All security roads, apparently, lead to biometrics: “It’s also easy to imagine how face recognition could replace your government ID, the key fob to your office, your ATM card and even your car key.” Still, this obvious bias doesn’t undermine the broader issues raised by the author. Trepp writes with considerable knowledge and authority; his overview of the potential “cashier-less future” of retail is fascinating, and his assessment of security risks at airports and other public venues is sobering. The author’s descriptions of AI–driven technologies, such as voice and facial recognition, are futuristic yet pragmatic. Perhaps because Trepp suspected his overall argument could be interpreted as defensively one-sided, he uses the last part of the book to feature “a global conversation on privacy” in which he asks numerous privacy thought leaders to respond to three key questions. The insights shared by these individuals help legitimize the book.
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").
Noted jazz and pop record producer Thiele offers a chatty autobiography. Aided by record-business colleague Golden, Thiele traces his career from his start as a ``pubescent, novice jazz record producer'' in the 1940s through the '50s, when he headed Coral, Dot, and Roulette Records, and the '60s, when he worked for ABC and ran the famous Impulse! jazz label. At Coral, Thiele championed the work of ``hillbilly'' singer Buddy Holly, although the only sessions he produced with Holly were marred by saccharine strings. The producer specialized in more mainstream popsters like the irrepressibly perky Teresa Brewer (who later became his fourth wife) and the bubble-machine muzak-meister Lawrence Welk. At Dot, Thiele was instrumental in recording Jack Kerouac's famous beat- generation ramblings to jazz accompaniment (recordings that Dot's president found ``pornographic''), while also overseeing a steady stream of pop hits. He then moved to the Mafia-controlled Roulette label, where he observed the ``silk-suited, pinky-ringed'' entourage who frequented the label's offices. Incredibly, however, Thiele remembers the famously hard-nosed Morris Levy, who ran the label and was eventually convicted of extortion, as ``one of the kindest, most warm-hearted, and classiest music men I have ever known.'' At ABC/Impulse!, Thiele oversaw the classic recordings of John Coltrane, although he is the first to admit that Coltrane essentially produced his own sessions. Like many producers of the day, Thiele participated in the ownership of publishing rights to some of the songs he recorded; he makes no apology for this practice, which he calls ``entirely appropriate and without any ethical conflicts.'' A pleasant, if not exactly riveting, memoir that will be of most interest to those with a thirst for cocktail-hour stories of the record biz. (25 halftones, not seen)