

It’s much simpler to use than Amazon’s Send to Kindle feature. Just plug the Kobo into a laptop, then drag and drop downloaded PDFs into the Kobo folder. PDFs on the Kobo are also a breeze to access.
#TASKPAPER COMPATIBLE KOBO DOWNLOAD#
I took advantage of briefly having a Kobo to download a lot of them. It's unclear how long this will remain the case-not much longer if people stop buying Kobos!-but for the moment, my library system in Portland, Oregon, offers many more books in OverDrive than in Kindle, particularly beach reads. And since there’s enough storage on the Nia for 6,000 books, I can read a book a day … or a lot more. When I search for books on the Nia, I select OverDrive, and then tap Borrow. But as easy as that is, finding books on OverDrive is so much easier. It’s not hard to download a book on a Kindle: I log into my library, pick the format, go to Amazon’s website, send it to the Kindle, and find the book there. Rakuten bought OverDrive in 2015 and then sold it in 2019, but it’s still well integrated into the Kobo platform. The reason you get a Kobo is to read free ebooks. I probably saved more than $10 on library books this week alone. But if you vote with your dollars, it's probably worth a little more to escape Amazon's stranglehold on media.
#TASKPAPER COMPATIBLE KOBO BLUETOOTH#
As a competitor to the entry-level Kindle, it doesn't support Bluetooth or audiobooks, and it's slightly more expensive. That in itself doesn't make the Nia a great buy. It supports a wider variety of file formats and is integrated with OverDrive, the digital platform that works with most libraries and schools around the world. It’s also the most convenient ebook reader if you read free books. Arguably, features like waterproofing on Amazon's Kindles wouldn’t exist if the Kobo didn't add it first.

Kobo, which is owned by the Japanese company Rakuten, needs to exist. Luckily, these books are free-I’ve been downloading one every few days from my local library on the Kobo Nia, a new ebook reader. Long after the rest of my family is in bed, I tear through New England beach romance novels about people with names like Hobby or Cash, who get their hearts broken, eat truffle breadsticks, and dry their whale shorts on clotheslines.
