I’m flipping through a Selected Poems of Robert Frost that belonged to my grandfather. The paperback cover features a grainy pen-and-ink profile of the poet superimposed over a grove of birches. The dark ink of the profile has bled in places, staining some of the trees with violet foliage.
The table of contents is divided into individual collections, and next to each collection title my grandfather wrote the year it appeared in smudgy blue ink. He placed check marks next to “Mowing,” “October,” “Reluctance,” “Mending Wall,” “After Apple-Picking,” and so on. If I’m not careful when flipping through the pages torn scraps of paper flitter out from the corners as if the book were shedding. Just about every time I pick it up I find new markers hiding in it.
This is all terribly sentimental, I know, but sentimentality is what interests me. In the minds of many book lovers this is what’s at stake in the digital publishing revolution: The Loss of the Artifact. People talk about the “feel” of books, the way a well-worn paperback fits your hand, the smell of paper, the experience of turning pages. Some ereaders have tried to replicate these effects, but the ability to register and exhibit the passage of time and use remains (thus far) beyond the capacity of any ebook. Even on the fancier ereaders with advanced notation features (and advanced price-tags) marginalia will never fade or smudge or bleed. And while some may count this as a practical advantage, others count it as an aesthetic disadvantage. Ebooks might offer customizable sepia-toned skins, but they cannot actually age; they cannot accrue sentimental value.
Every media transition is an act of translation, and if something is always lost in the process then something is inevitably gained in the outcome, at the very least transmission in a different lexicon. Transitions from “old” to “new” are often framed as conflicts of tradition and progress, romanticism and pragmatism. The sentimental superiority of paper books has been passionately argued in places; the practical advantages of ebooks have been widely documented in others. To fully appreciate the Loss of the Artifact and the future of books as ebooks, it’s going to be necessary to reverse the lenses through which we measure loss and gain.
In the room I have left here, and in future posts, I’d like to consider the practical advantages of paper books against the esoteric advantages of digital print. If we accept the argument that the practical advantages of ebooks make a digital publishing revolution inevitable, then it’s going to be important to examine the aesthetic positives of ebooks (and I believe there are many) and begin to envision a reading culture that takes full advantage of them. It will be equally important to carefully document all the useful features of current book packaging so that we can ensure these are imported into the next phase of the medium.
In the end, readers are really only losing a certain kind of packaging in the shift from books to ebooks. We’re not losing long and storied history of “the book”, and we’re not going to lose any specific and cherished volumes. The Loss of the Artifact does not mean the loss of any particular artifact, steeped in sentimental value. The Amazon Kindle isn’t going to set my grandfather’s Frost on fire. It means a lot to me, and I plan on keeping it until I have someone to pass it on to, but the existence of books like this is not an argument against ebooks. It’s not going to stop me from buying ebooks or an ereader when the economics seem reasonable, and it certainly won’t stop me from considering the possible merits of new media.
In the meantime I plan on reading my grandfather’s Frost several times over, enjoying the musty smell of its pages, while I consider the aging lessons that tumble out from the spine and try to apply them to thinking about the future of the book.
I agree that something aesthetic and visceral is lost in the switch from paper book to electronic book. An ebook is relatively charmless compared to an old first edition hardcover, just as playing an mp3 is relatively charmless compared to playing an LP on a phonograph, or processing words on a computer is relatively charmless compared to clacking out a manuscript on an Olivetti portable manual typewriter with a nice fresh ribbon.
But I’m not so sure that the main thing missing isn’t simply nostalgia. The feeling of reading an ebook is nearly identical to reading a paper book, just like the feeling of listening to an mp3 is nearly identical to listening to a record.
And the gains, once we abandon DRM and format-fighting, will be significant, and practical. Owning the same books for the rest of your life, for one thing.
It is a cold feeling, progress. I agree with you there. But the alternative is stagnation, and willful stagnation feels stubborn and pointless.
And the other side of progress is excitement, whereas the other side of stagnation is the same.
I could give you a long list of reasons why I prefer a book to an ebook. And most are sentimental. But the least sentimental reason on that list is this: at the end of a day spent in front of the computer for work (and for correspondence, and to schedule appointments, and to read up to the minute news…you get my point), reading a good book is an escape. And reading on a screen is increasingly more associated with the things I “have” to do in my daily life. So to fully escape, I don’t want the bright glare of a screen, I want the dull backdrop of recycled paper. I’ve tried reading books on my iphone (Stanza) on the way home from work, and I just can’t do it. The same way I’d rather watch a television program on TV, or listen to a radio program on the radio- I’d rather read a book in book form. I’m not ready to surrender the control I have when I have a book in my hands. Continually flipping back and forth through pages, seeing how many pages I have left in a chapter, reading the last word of the novel -all those quirky habits I feel I’ll be forced to give up because of the restrictions of an ereader.
I’m not saying that there isn’t a place in the world for ereaders, hulu, and podcasts – because clearly there is – I just get nervous when we start to say that is the direction publishing is going in. Where I see happening is ereaders being valuable for students who are assigned reading in English class. And buying books will be for those interested in leisure reading. The two will coexist, with maybe the balance eventually tipping towards the ereader’s favor, but the deadtree version still retaining some sort of power.
Also. Just from my couple of months in the magazine world. There is a prestige associated with having your name in print, and it is only becoming more prestigious as space in magazines is becoming more limited. As long as the snobbery exists, I don’t see any of the bigtime publishers giving up their deadtree editions anytime soon.
Sorry this is so long.
Don’t be sorry, thanks for writing something.
In a lot of ways you’re right on. I feel the same way about books, and I don’t think I’ll ever surrender my library of paper books. That said, if you take an ereader sporting electronic ink for a spin, I think you’ll be surprised how natural it feels and how quickly you forget you’re reading on a machine.
I think what you say about the snobbery is wise. I also don’t think deadtree editions will ever die both for that reason, nostalgia, and in many cases practical reasons where paper is better, safer, or necessary. Still, where this is going to hit first and foremost, as is already evidenced by the Kindle’s success despite its flaws, is in the journalism space. A lot of print periodicals are being forced to digitize or fold. There are lots of reasons for this including user demand and production costs–especially crippling for the smaller fries.
Scoring the students assigned English reading will be the second wave, and the most lucrative for whoever does it right first. This will also be the tipping point. I still have some of my favorite books from my old English classes, even as far back as high school. I don’t think things will be any different for future generations of lit dorks. But for those who grow up reading on screens and are educated on them, reading digital books will be second nature. Then we deadtree readers will be in the same boat as those who buy new albums on LP.