The Case of the Missing Kindle App

And Other Mysteries of Modern Tech

Where did the everyday user go? And does Microsoft even care anymore?

I recently attempted something wildly ambitious. Not building a rocket. Not editing a podcast. I tried to read a book.

On my Surface Pro 7.

Specifically, a Kindle book. You know, the kind I can read on my phone, my Kindle e-reader, my wife’s iPad, or—if I wanted to get wild—have Alexa read to me in jazz-flavored Swahili while I grill salmon.

But on a Surface Pro? That’s asking too much.

The Disappearing App Trick

Turns out the Kindle app is no longer available in the Microsoft Store. Not even an ancient, cobweb-covered version from 2017. Amazon quietly removed it, and Microsoft didn’t seem to notice—or care. One minute, you’re expecting a seamless, cloud-powered reading experience. The next, you’re digging through forums, hoping someone has a workaround that doesn’t involve reconfiguring Windows registry settings.

Yes, there’s Kindle Cloud Reader. But that means reading in a browser, and if I wanted to juggle tabs and notifications while reading a spy novel, I’d just open Twitter and pretend it’s literature.

Microsoft: Power Users Only, Please

This got me wondering: Who is Microsoft building for now?

Certainly not everyday users like me. Not folks who want:

To read library books without needing a VPN
To install basic apps without guessing between “Store,” “Desktop,” “Cloud,” and “Mystery Portal”
To write, browse, Zoom, and watch the occasional jazz documentary without rebooting in safe mode

Instead, Microsoft’s gaze seems fixed on a different tribe: creators, coders, and corporate nomads with Snapdragon-powered devices and keyboards that cost more than my first microwave. They’re marketing to the AI elite now—people with remote servers, neural processing units, and a deep spiritual bond with Excel macros.

Great if you’re editing a video about Mars dust. Not so great if you’re just trying to open The Count of Monte Cristo without counting how many logins you’ve forgotten.

What’s Left for the Rest of Us?

Yes, I can still use Kindle for PC—if I don’t mind the clunky interface and total lack of touch optimization. Libby works (in the browser, mostly). OneNote still syncs—eventually. And I can always pretend to love Microsoft Edge’s Reading Mode, as long as I don’t need to highlight anything, search, or turn the page with a finger swipe.

But here’s the bigger issue: For many of us—especially those 60 and up—tech shouldn’t feel like decoding mission control. We want tools, not treasure hunts. Apps that work. Devices that support the simple stuff: reading, writing, a bit of music, and an occasional reminder that we turned the oven on.

Closing Thoughts from a Surface Survivor

I actually like my Surface Pro. It’s lightweight, efficient, and has helped me stay productive on the go. But increasingly, it feels like a digital Swiss Army knife that forgot how to open a book. It can optimize workflow latency. It can run machine learning models. But ask it to curl up with a good novel and it acts like I’ve violated its code of honor.

I miss the Microsoft that built for curious generalists—people who dabble, explore, and just want things to work. Right now, I feel like I’m beta-testing a device that was never meant for me.

I’m not a digital nomad. I’m a digital realist. I want to read Red Sparrow, not rewrite Windows Powershell.

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Where did the everyday user go? And does Microsoft even care anymore?