The Dice Are Rolling on Dell\'s Legacy

The Dice Are Rolling on Dell’s Legacy

IN 1984 â€" the year Mark Zuckerberg, the Facebook creator, was born â€" Michael S. Dell started a tech company in his dorm room, dropped out of college and changed the world.

Michael S. Dell at a company site in Austin, Tex., in 1989.

By making personal computers that were powerful, reliable and inexpensive, and by selling directly to buyers who customized their PC features, Mr. Dell revolutionized his industry.

“The original PC industry was long on people with great technical ideas but short on people who were able to turn those ideas into opportunities â€" into products that people really wanted,” said Timothy Bresnahan, a Stanford economist. Along with Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, as well as Scott Cook of Intuit, Mr. Dell was one of those few great innovators, he said. “These people are very rare.”

Mr. Dell’s early achievements were formidable, but unless his latest effort to turn around his company is successful, the Dell legacy today is very much in doubt. Last week, along with Silver Lake Partners, a private equity firm, he made a $24.4 billion buyout offer for his company â€" an apparent bet that, without the scrutiny of public shareholders, he can get Dell back on track.

Dell, the company, has been losing ground for years as the industry it once dominated has undergone upheavals that its founder failed to foresee. “The very nature of technology is that it changes a lot,” said Toni Sacconaghi, an analyst at Sanford C. Bernstein. “And Michael has conceded publicly that he has missed some big changes â€" he failed to foresee smartphones or tablets â€" and both of these shifts have been highly detrimental to the PC world.”

He has lagged in a crucial area of corporate strategy as well, said Shaw Wu, an analyst at Sterne Agee in San Francisco. While Mr. Dell has always been attuned to the needs of corporate clients, he is 20 years behind I.B.M. in embracing a strategic shift to enterprise software and services, Mr. Wu said: “That’s a higher-margin business that Dell would like to go after, but I.B.M. and others have got tremendous leads. It will be very difficult for him to catch up.”

If Dell shareholders accept an offer price of $13.65 a share, Mr. Dell, who is contributing his stake of more than 14 percent in the company plus hundreds of millions more, would end up with more than 50 percent of the new company’s equity, Mr. Sacconaghi estimated. Mr. Dell, who declined to comment for this article, would control the company without being subject to the day-to-day pressures of the stock market, which has pummeled Dell shares because its earnings have weakened.

While Dell reports that 50 percent of its revenue is directly related to PCs, Mr. Wu says the figure is 70 to 80 percent when indirect revenue, like that for computer monitors, printers and services, is included. “The company has made big investments in other areas, but it’s still mainly a PC company,” he said.

That’s a big problem for several reasons. Once considered the low-cost provider in the field, Dell now faces lean Asian competitors like Lenovo, Asus and Acer that make PCs more cheaply and accept lower profit margins. Yet these companies, particularly Lenovo, have also garnered praise for making excellent computers, not merely well-priced ones. At the same time, Dell’s vaunted reputation for quality and service has waned.

Lenovo, which makes the ThinkPad line of notebook computers formerly sold by I.B.M., “has been picking up corporate customers from Dell,” Mr. Wu said.

THEN there is a deeper issue: the entire PC industry is stagnant at best. Worldwide PC shipments declined 4.9 percent in the fourth quarter, versus the year-earlier period, according to Gartner, a market research firm. Consumer preferences are shifting. With the ubiquity of smartphones and tablets â€" segments where Dell is absent or very weak â€" consumers aren’t replacing PCs as often.

“We don’t expect people to abandon PCs, but they won’t rely on them as much in the future,” said Mikako Kitagawa, a Gartner analyst. Dell’s share of this no-growth market has been shrinking, to 10.2 percent worldwide in the fourth quarter of 2012, from 12.2 percent the previous year, Gartner said.

Facing such headwinds, Mr. Sacconaghi said, Dell hopes to “hold PC profits flat or, worst case, down 5 percent a year, while they grow the rest of the business to more than offset that.” But the market is skeptical. Dell’s shares fell 30 percent in the 12 months before Jan. 14, when reports of an imminent buyout appeared.

The leveraged buyout will layer $15 billion of new debt on the company. Microsoft, with which Dell has had close ties, is providing $2 billion. Because interest rates are extraordinarily low, servicing all that debt should be manageable, assuming that Dell maintains its current cash flow, Mr. Sacconaghi said.

It’s not clear how much the debt load will constrain Dell’s investments in research and development. Josh Lerner, a Harvard Business School professor, said a study for which he was a co-author found that after leveraged buyouts, most companies maintained their ability to innovate, largely by focusing research in “their core competencies.”

In other words, he said, “Dell might be able to prosper after a buyout; it would depend on how Michael Dell manages the company.”

Is the price being offered for the company fair It’s often unwise to bet against company insiders, especially founders like Mr. Dell, who may be presumed to know their companies’ value better than outside investors.

Consider John W. Kluge, who took Metromedia private in 1984 in a $1.1 billion leveraged buyout. Mr. Kluge, Metromedia’s founder, promptly liquidated it, selling television stations (to Rupert Murdoch) and sundry assets like the Harlem Globetrotters and the Ice Capades. In the end, Mr. Kluge tripled his take â€" to the chagrin of many former shareholders.

Mr. Kluge, who died in 2010, wasn’t interested in preserving his company or revolutionizing an industry, however. He merely wanted to make money. “When we buy an asset, we look at it as a return on the investment,” he said in 1980.

For Mr. Dell, whose name is on the door, other factors may be in play. “Another chapter is still to be written,” Mr. Bresnahan said. Money will be part of it. So will the Dell legacy.

A version of this article appeared in print on February 10, 2013, on page BU6 of the New York edition with the headline: The Dice Are Rolling On Dell’s Legacy.

John E. Karlin, Who Led the Way to All-Digit Dialing, Dies at 94

Courtesy of Alcatel-Lucent USA

John E. Karlin, a researcher at Bell Labs, studied ways to make the telephone easier to use.

A generation ago, when the poetry of PEnnsylvania and BUtterfield was about to give way to telephone numbers in unpoetic strings, a critical question arose: Would people be able to remember all seven digits long enough to dial them

Experimental model of a touch-tone phone from 1959.

And when, not long afterward, the dial gave way to push buttons, new questions arose: round buttons, or square How big should they be Most crucially, how should they be arrayed In a circle A rectangle An arc

For decades after World War II, these questions were studied by a group of social scientists and engineers in New Jersey led by one man, a Bell Labs industrial psychologist named John E. Karlin.

By all accounts a modest man despite his variegated accomplishments (he had a doctorate in mathematical psychology, was trained in electrical engineering and had been a professional violinist), Mr. Karlin, who died on Jan. 28, at 94, was virtually unknown to the general public.

But his research, along with that of his subordinates, quietly yet emphatically defined the experience of using the telephone in the mid-20th century and afterward, from ushering in all-digit dialing to casting the shape of the keypad on touch-tone phones. And that keypad, in turn, would inform the design of a spate of other everyday objects.

It is not so much that Mr. Karlin trained midcentury Americans how to use the telephone. It is, rather, that by studying the psychological capabilities and limitations of ordinary people, he trained the telephone, then a rapidly proliferating but still fairly novel technology, to assume optimal form for use by midcentury Americans.

“He was the one who introduced the notion that behavioral sciences could answer some questions about telephone design,” Ed Israelski, an engineer who worked under Mr. Karlin at Bell Labs in the 1970s, said in a telephone interview on Wednesday.

In 2013, the 50th anniversary of the introduction of the touch-tone phone, the answers to those questions remain palpable at the press of a button. The rectangular design of the keypad, the shape of its buttons and the position of the numbers â€" with “1-2-3” on the top row instead of the bottom, as on a calculator â€" all sprang from empirical research conducted or overseen by Mr. Karlin.

The legacy of that research now extends far beyond the telephone: the keypad design Mr. Karlin shepherded into being has become the international standard on objects as diverse as A.T.M.’s, gas pumps, door locks, vending machines and medical equipment.

Mr. Karlin, associated from 1945 until his retirement in 1977 with Bell Labs, headquartered in Murray Hill, N.J., was widely considered the father of human-factors engineering in American industry.

A branch of industrial psychology that combines experimentation, engineering and product design, human-factors engineering is concerned with easing the awkward, often ill-considered marriage between man and machine. In seeking to design and improve technology based on what its users are mentally capable of, the discipline is the cognitive counterpart of ergonomics.

“Human-factors studies are different from market research and other kinds of studies in that we observe people’s behavior and record it, systematically and without bias,” Mr. Israelski said. “The hallmark of human-factors studies is they involve the actual observation of people doing things.”

Among the issues Mr. Karlin examined as the head of Bell Labs’ Human Factors Engineering department â€" the first department of its kind at an American company â€" were the optimal length for a phone cord (a study that involved gentle, successful sabotage) and the means by which rotary calls could be made efficiently after the numbers were moved from inside the finger holes, where they had nestled companionably for years, to the rim outside the dial.

John Elias Karlin was born in Johannesburg on Feb. 28, 1918, and reared nearby in Germiston, where his parents owned a grocery store and tearoom.

He earned a bachelor’s degree in philosophy, psychology and music, and a master’s degree in psychology, both from the University of Cape Town. Throughout his studies he was a violinist in the Cape Town Symphony Orchestra and the Cape Town String Quartet.

Moving to the United States, Mr. Karlin earned a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in 1942. Afterward, he became a research associate at Harvard; he also studied electrical engineering there and at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

At Harvard, Mr. Karlin did research for the United States military on problems in psychoacoustics that were vital to the war effort â€" studying the ways, for instance, in which a bomber’s engine noise might distract its crew from their duties.

A version of this article appeared in print on February 9, 2013, on page A1 of the New York edition with the headline: His Studies of Behavior Eased Marriage of Man and Machine.

John E. Karlin, Who Led the Way to All-Digit Dialing, Dies at 94

Courtesy of Alcatel-Lucent USA

John E. Karlin, a researcher at Bell Labs, studied ways to make the telephone easier to use.

A generation ago, when the poetry of PEnnsylvania and BUtterfield was about to give way to telephone numbers in unpoetic strings, a critical question arose: Would people be able to remember all seven digits long enough to dial them

Experimental model of a touch-tone phone from 1959.

And when, not long afterward, the dial gave way to push buttons, new questions arose: round buttons, or square How big should they be Most crucially, how should they be arrayed In a circle A rectangle An arc

For decades after World War II, these questions were studied by a group of social scientists and engineers in New Jersey led by one man, a Bell Labs industrial psychologist named John E. Karlin.

By all accounts a modest man despite his variegated accomplishments (he had a doctorate in mathematical psychology, was trained in electrical engineering and had been a professional violinist), Mr. Karlin, who died on Jan. 28, at 94, was virtually unknown to the general public.

But his research, along with that of his subordinates, quietly yet emphatically defined the experience of using the telephone in the mid-20th century and afterward, from ushering in all-digit dialing to casting the shape of the keypad on touch-tone phones. And that keypad, in turn, would inform the design of a spate of other everyday objects.

It is not so much that Mr. Karlin trained midcentury Americans how to use the telephone. It is, rather, that by studying the psychological capabilities and limitations of ordinary people, he trained the telephone, then a rapidly proliferating but still fairly novel technology, to assume optimal form for use by midcentury Americans.

“He was the one who introduced the notion that behavioral sciences could answer some questions about telephone design,” Ed Israelski, an engineer who worked under Mr. Karlin at Bell Labs in the 1970s, said in a telephone interview on Wednesday.

In 2013, the 50th anniversary of the introduction of the touch-tone phone, the answers to those questions remain palpable at the press of a button. The rectangular design of the keypad, the shape of its buttons and the position of the numbers â€" with “1-2-3” on the top row instead of the bottom, as on a calculator â€" all sprang from empirical research conducted or overseen by Mr. Karlin.

The legacy of that research now extends far beyond the telephone: the keypad design Mr. Karlin shepherded into being has become the international standard on objects as diverse as A.T.M.’s, gas pumps, door locks, vending machines and medical equipment.

Mr. Karlin, associated from 1945 until his retirement in 1977 with Bell Labs, headquartered in Murray Hill, N.J., was widely considered the father of human-factors engineering in American industry.

A branch of industrial psychology that combines experimentation, engineering and product design, human-factors engineering is concerned with easing the awkward, often ill-considered marriage between man and machine. In seeking to design and improve technology based on what its users are mentally capable of, the discipline is the cognitive counterpart of ergonomics.

“Human-factors studies are different from market research and other kinds of studies in that we observe people’s behavior and record it, systematically and without bias,” Mr. Israelski said. “The hallmark of human-factors studies is they involve the actual observation of people doing things.”

Among the issues Mr. Karlin examined as the head of Bell Labs’ Human Factors Engineering department â€" the first department of its kind at an American company â€" were the optimal length for a phone cord (a study that involved gentle, successful sabotage) and the means by which rotary calls could be made efficiently after the numbers were moved from inside the finger holes, where they had nestled companionably for years, to the rim outside the dial.

John Elias Karlin was born in Johannesburg on Feb. 28, 1918, and reared nearby in Germiston, where his parents owned a grocery store and tearoom.

He earned a bachelor’s degree in philosophy, psychology and music, and a master’s degree in psychology, both from the University of Cape Town. Throughout his studies he was a violinist in the Cape Town Symphony Orchestra and the Cape Town String Quartet.

Moving to the United States, Mr. Karlin earned a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in 1942. Afterward, he became a research associate at Harvard; he also studied electrical engineering there and at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

At Harvard, Mr. Karlin did research for the United States military on problems in psychoacoustics that were vital to the war effort â€" studying the ways, for instance, in which a bomber’s engine noise might distract its crew from their duties.

A version of this article appeared in print on February 9, 2013, on page A1 of the New York edition with the headline: His Studies of Behavior Eased Marriage of Man and Machine.

Digital Tags Help Ensure the Price Is Right

SOME decades ago, a grocery store’s aisles were often filled with “chunk-a-chunk-a” sounds, as clerks stamped prices to the tops of cans and boxes before putting them on shelves. It was a labor-intensive operation, but it did result in a price being affixed to most every item in the store.

A paper “Sale” sign accompanies an Altierre screen in a Kohl’s store.

Digital labels from Altierre are intended to help retailers keep prices up to date.

Then bar codes and computerized cash registers arrived. In most stores, prices were posted on shelves but not on the items themselves.

I’ve always trusted that the system works well â€" and I’ve tapped my foot impatiently when a shopper ahead of me slowed the checkout process by closely watching the prices that came up, as if the scanner might have recorded the wrong product code. What I hadn’t realized was that there is valid reason to be vigilant. The potential problems originate on the shelves, in the form of the shelf tags, which may or may not match the current price in a store’s computer.

A typical grocery store puts 5,000 items on sale in a week and removes sale prices from another 5,000. That creates an abundance of opportunities for mismatches when workers print out the new price labels in a back room, then hunt for the proper place on the shelf to attach them.

This has left store technology in an incomplete state: mostly but not entirely computerized. The next step is to go completely paperless by putting small, battery-powered digital price tags on the shelves. Price changes can then be received wirelessly from the store’s network, ensuring that the price displayed on the shelf and the one called up at the checkout counter are the same.

Altierre, a digital tag and sensor maker based in San Jose, Calif., has raised more than $80 million from investors and spent 10 years developing the technology for digital tags and the wireless networks they require. It asserts that outfitting a store with 20,000 to 25,000 tags, each costing about $5, would produce labor savings that would pay back the investment in two to two-and-a-half years.

The tags can provide multiple screens of information. To reduce power consumption, Altierre uses black-on-gray liquid crystal displays, the same type used in digital watches and pocket calculators. The most generous thing that can be said about this type of display is that its legibility is satisfactory.

At Altierre’s headquarters, a full-size mock grocery store is set up with its tags installed on the shelves. There, I was surprised to find that the LCD’s legibility problems didn’t seem so significant: shoppers stand close to the shelves anyway. On some shelves, Altierre showed off an improved tag, at a higher price, that uses E Ink technology. Its text is noticeably crisper than that of an ordinary LCD tag.

I asked Sunit Saxena, Altierre’s chief executive, why grocery stores haven’t leapt at the chance to save themselves money by installing the tags. “They’re treading carefully because the fear is, they’ll put 30,000 of these in a store where people are used to seeing paper and it will be a drastic change,” he said. “They worry that their sales will drop.”

Digital sign technology is hardly new. In France, customers are accustomed to digital signs in grocery stores, where an LCD tag with limited display capacity has been on shelves for about 10 years, says Michel Itié, an I.T. consultant. It shows only the price and the price per weight, so it requires a separate paper tag to show an item’s name.

Many French hypermarkets, which combine grocery stores and department stores, also use the tags. Mr. Itié is working with a company that is installing Altierre’s technology for the hypermarket chain E.Leclerc, which has installed 300,000 new LCD tags in 10 stores and plans to deploy a total of two million tags by year-end.

In the United States, grocery stores still cannot justify making the investment in digital price tags, says Patrick C. Fitzpatrick, president of Atlanta Retail Consulting. “If the payback was advantageous, you’d see them everywhere.”

Stores are eager, however, to find an affordable way to reduce price-related errors. Mr. Fitzpatrick says that when grocery store managers conduct “price integrity audits” and compare price labels on the shelves with the prices in the store computer, paper labels are only 95 percent to 96 percent accurate.

Randall Stross is an author based in Silicon Valley and a professor of business at San Jose State University. E-mail: stross@nytimes.com.

A version of this article appeared in print on February 10, 2013, on page BU3 of the New York edition with the headline: Digital Tags Help Ensure the Price Is Right.

Digital Tags Help Ensure the Price Is Right

SOME decades ago, a grocery store’s aisles were often filled with “chunk-a-chunk-a” sounds, as clerks stamped prices to the tops of cans and boxes before putting them on shelves. It was a labor-intensive operation, but it did result in a price being affixed to most every item in the store.

A paper “Sale” sign accompanies an Altierre screen in a Kohl’s store.

Digital labels from Altierre are intended to help retailers keep prices up to date.

Then bar codes and computerized cash registers arrived. In most stores, prices were posted on shelves but not on the items themselves.

I’ve always trusted that the system works well â€" and I’ve tapped my foot impatiently when a shopper ahead of me slowed the checkout process by closely watching the prices that came up, as if the scanner might have recorded the wrong product code. What I hadn’t realized was that there is valid reason to be vigilant. The potential problems originate on the shelves, in the form of the shelf tags, which may or may not match the current price in a store’s computer.

A typical grocery store puts 5,000 items on sale in a week and removes sale prices from another 5,000. That creates an abundance of opportunities for mismatches when workers print out the new price labels in a back room, then hunt for the proper place on the shelf to attach them.

This has left store technology in an incomplete state: mostly but not entirely computerized. The next step is to go completely paperless by putting small, battery-powered digital price tags on the shelves. Price changes can then be received wirelessly from the store’s network, ensuring that the price displayed on the shelf and the one called up at the checkout counter are the same.

Altierre, a digital tag and sensor maker based in San Jose, Calif., has raised more than $80 million from investors and spent 10 years developing the technology for digital tags and the wireless networks they require. It asserts that outfitting a store with 20,000 to 25,000 tags, each costing about $5, would produce labor savings that would pay back the investment in two to two-and-a-half years.

The tags can provide multiple screens of information. To reduce power consumption, Altierre uses black-on-gray liquid crystal displays, the same type used in digital watches and pocket calculators. The most generous thing that can be said about this type of display is that its legibility is satisfactory.

At Altierre’s headquarters, a full-size mock grocery store is set up with its tags installed on the shelves. There, I was surprised to find that the LCD’s legibility problems didn’t seem so significant: shoppers stand close to the shelves anyway. On some shelves, Altierre showed off an improved tag, at a higher price, that uses E Ink technology. Its text is noticeably crisper than that of an ordinary LCD tag.

I asked Sunit Saxena, Altierre’s chief executive, why grocery stores haven’t leapt at the chance to save themselves money by installing the tags. “They’re treading carefully because the fear is, they’ll put 30,000 of these in a store where people are used to seeing paper and it will be a drastic change,” he said. “They worry that their sales will drop.”

Digital sign technology is hardly new. In France, customers are accustomed to digital signs in grocery stores, where an LCD tag with limited display capacity has been on shelves for about 10 years, says Michel Itié, an I.T. consultant. It shows only the price and the price per weight, so it requires a separate paper tag to show an item’s name.

Many French hypermarkets, which combine grocery stores and department stores, also use the tags. Mr. Itié is working with a company that is installing Altierre’s technology for the hypermarket chain E.Leclerc, which has installed 300,000 new LCD tags in 10 stores and plans to deploy a total of two million tags by year-end.

In the United States, grocery stores still cannot justify making the investment in digital price tags, says Patrick C. Fitzpatrick, president of Atlanta Retail Consulting. “If the payback was advantageous, you’d see them everywhere.”

Stores are eager, however, to find an affordable way to reduce price-related errors. Mr. Fitzpatrick says that when grocery store managers conduct “price integrity audits” and compare price labels on the shelves with the prices in the store computer, paper labels are only 95 percent to 96 percent accurate.

Randall Stross is an author based in Silicon Valley and a professor of business at San Jose State University. E-mail: stross@nytimes.com.

A version of this article appeared in print on February 10, 2013, on page BU3 of the New York edition with the headline: Digital Tags Help Ensure the Price Is Right.

How Technology Won World War II

War Machines

‘Engineers of Victory,’ by Paul Kennedy

The historian Daniel Boorstin once complained to me about the Smithsonian Institution’s decision in 1980 to delete the final two words from the name of its Museum of History and Technology. Boorstin had a point. Scholars of other fields do often tend to underestimate the influence of technology. Although most of us know that World War II brought us radar, the literature of that titanic conflict is by no means exempt from this phenomenon. For instance, the biographer Joseph P. Lash subtitled his 1976 wartime account of Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill “The Partnership That Saved the West,” in response to which I once heard a British scholar carp, “If Lash is right, then why did all those scientists and intelligence officers and factory workers bother working so hard”

The Hedgehog, an anti-submarine mortar, on a British escort vessel.

ENGINEERS OF VICTORY

The Problem Solvers Who Turned the Tide in the Second World War

By Paul Kennedy

Illustrated. 436 pp. Random House. $30.

With this fresh and discursive new work, the Yale historian Paul Kennedy, best known for his widely debated “Rise and Fall of the Great Powers,” published in 1987, calls attention to the way “small groups of individuals and institutions” surmounted seemingly insuperable operational obstacles to enable Roosevelt, Truman, Churchill and Stalin ultimately to grasp the laurels for an Allied triumph. “Engineers of Victory” achieves the difficult task of being a consistently original book about one of the most relentlessly examined episodes in human history. Unlike most studies of the war, this one is not primarily about politics, generalship or battlefield glories. References to the Big Three are few. Instead, like an engineer who pries open a pocket watch to reveal its inner mechanics, Kennedy tells how ­little-known men and women at lower ­levels helped win the war.

Kennedy concentrates mainly on the European theater and on Allied progress during the period from early 1943, when Hitler’s Admiral Doenitz sank 108 Allied vessels in a single month, provoking fears that England would be starved of essential bunker fuel, to the almost fantastic summer of 1944, when British and American troops scrambled onto Festung Europa. By Kennedy’s telling, a number of concurrent accomplishments spelled the difference between victory and, if not defeat, then, at least, a struggle that might have dragged on past 1945, with countless additional casualties.

The first was ensuring that Allied convoys could cross the Atlantic without being sunk by Germans. As Kennedy acknowledges, this was the first war in which sea power’s success was decided by air power, so part of the solution was cranking out airplanes (especially long-range bombers). But vital too were innovations like the Hedgehog, a forward-firing ship-­mounted mortar (devised by an idiosyncratic British unit called “Wheezers and Dodgers”), and the Leigh Light, which exposed German U-boats that were surfacing at night to recharge batteries so that British bombers could do their deadly work. In contrast with the cadre of popular and scholarly authors who since the 1970s have written, often breathlessly, about glamorous code breakers, Kennedy is skeptical of Bletchley Park’s importance, because the intelligence operation known as Ultra “could do only so much.”

Command of the air over Germany was seized only when American squadrons arrived to augment the Royal Air Force, upend the existing British doctrine of restricting attacks to nighttime and demand pinpoint bombing of specifically identified German military and industrial targets. The zenith of Allied accomplishment in the air, of course, was D-Day 1944, when a previously unimaginable 11,590 planes were sent aloft. “There had been nothing like it in world history,” Kennedy writes, “nor has there been since. . . . There was no chance for the completely diminished Luftwaffe to do anything except lose more and more of its planes and pilots whenever they rose into the air.” Kennedy goes on to describe how the Allies stopped the ferocious blitzkrieg assaults of 1939 to 1942 by deploying “stronger, tougher and better-equipped forces (with panzers, bazookas, mines, better tactical aircraft)” in concert with the western thrust of the Soviet Army, aided by their T-34-85, which Kennedy calls the “most all-rund battle tank” of the war.

Victory in Europe before the summer of 1945 also required the Allies to make hasty progress in perfecting the art of amphibious warfare. After World War I, Kennedy notes, with “a badly defeated and much-­reduced Germany, in a badly damaged and scarcely victorious France and Italy, and in an infant Soviet Union, there were many thoughts of war, but none of them involved the projection of force across the oceans.” The disheartening debacle of the one-day Allied trial effort in August 1942 to breach the Atlantic Wall with a raid against the modest German garrison at Dieppe, France, provided crucial lessons that led directly to the world-­important success on D-Day two years later.

Michael Beschloss, the author, most recently, of “Presidential Courage,” is writing a history of American presidential leadership in wartime.

A version of this review appeared in print on February 10, 2013, on page BR15 of the Sunday Book Review with the headline: War Machines.

When E-Mail Turns From Delight to Deluge

IN the not-so-distant past, the chipper AOL sound of “You’ve got mail!” filled me with giddiness and glee. I would eagerly check my in-box, excited to see what message had arrived.

Those days are long gone. Now, when I examine my various e-mail accounts, my main emotion is dread.

One morning last week, I sat at my desk and stared at my Gmail in-box; 40,000 unread e-mails stared back. (That big number is a function of my life as a writer, and of having five different accounts, work and personal.) Feeling unusually invigorated, I attacked the mountain, trashing subscription newsletters and social networking alerts en masse. I typed brief confirmations for various meetings, sent long-overdue R.S.V.P.’s and replied to a few friends who had sent warm notes of hello. In an hour, I worked my way through roughly 100 e-mails.

Satisfied by a morning well spent, I left for an early lunch. But when I returned to my desk an hour later, it was as if I’d never deleted a thing. There were dozens of new messages, each waiting to be tackled.

Frustrated, I closed my e-mail and couldn’t bring myself to return to it for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t always like this. E-mail was once a great tool for communication, one that was less intrusive than the telephone and faster than the Postal Service. Now, even when it works as designed, it’s a virtual nightmare â€" and, occasionally, an actual one. I’ve had many a stress dream about missing important notes from my boss.

Where have we gone wrong

Part of it has to do with how stagnant the format of e-mail has remained, while the rest of communication and social networking has surged light years ahead, says Susan Etlinger, an analyst at the Altimeter Group, who studies how people use and interact with technology and the Internet. E-mail is largely arranged along a linear timeline, with little thought given to context and topic.

“It’s become another timeline or feed,” she says. “It goes by and then it’s done. The current model of e-mail feels obsolete.”

She also says that while most e-mail providers are trying to block spammers and phishers from bombarding people, they have barely begun to tackle the problem of social spam â€" a plague of unnecessary and unwanted e-mail that includes alerts from social networks like LinkedIn, Twitter and Tumblr.

“The spam problem has mostly been fixed, at least, in terms of what is legitimately supposed to be spam,” she said. “It’s the unwanted e-mails that are so horrifying.”

These frustrations seem universal. And they are not going away anytime soon, particularly given the news that the post office is planning to drop the delivery of certain mail on Saturdays. Our dependence on e-mail is only growing. Indeed, Pingdom, a Web site that monitors Internet use, published a report in January saying that there are 2.2 billion e-mail users worldwide, and that global e-mail traffic has reached 144 billion messages a day.

Some preliminary answers to this digital quandary are emerging.

Google offered its version of a solution with Priority in-box, a feature that tries to automatically identify urgent messages. And Apple recently introduced a “V.I.P.” tag that will push a notification to the user when an e-mail arrives from a previously designated important person. These help, but they are not enough on their own.

Even using both systems, I still resort to keeping an eye on my in-box through the day and jotting down a list â€" on paper â€" of people to write back at the end of the day or before bed. It’s archaic at best, and I rarely get to everyone before the day is out.

Of course, there is a regimented, minimalist approach to clearing out in-boxes each day â€" otherwise known as In-Box Zero â€" but that requires a level of constant attention and maintenance beyond the scope of my time and patience.

I was starting to consider e-mail bankruptcy â€" ditching my account and signing up for a new one â€" until I heard about a new option in the e-mail wars, an iOS app called Mailbox, which promises to change how we manage our mail.

Mailbox, in a way, harks back to an older, simpler system in which you checked your mail â€" the paper kind â€" and sorted it as soon as you received it. You read the most pressing letters first, tossed away the junk and set aside pieces of mail that could be dealt with later. The app does much the same thing, by letting users sort their in-box into three neat columns, in a much sleeker and prettier interface than the basic mail clients available for the iPhone or most Android phones.

A version of this article appeared in print on February 10, 2013, on page BU3 of the New York edition with the headline: When E-Mail Turns From Delight to Deluge.