Me no like e-books!

Well, that probably isn't entirely true. However, one of the best recurring experiences of my life has been settling in with a great book to read. I've mentioned in a post a few years' back why that is, but I thought I'd quote a bit from it (because there is no sense writing the same thing twice):

But isn't reading as a solitary act sort of the point. Books are where I have gone traditionally to take a step back from my own environment and lose myself. There is something about opening up the pages of a book and communing with the author's work which is both recreational and refreshing. You can unplug, unwind, and let the rhythm of each word and sentence carry you beyond the walls of life as you experience it.

Don't get me wrong, I love the visceral, sensual experience of reading: the delicious crackle of an opened binding; the smell of ink and paper, whether freshly imprinted or redolent with must and the rich scent of age; the texture of each leaf or page beneath the fingertips; the way that a single page raises itself almost perpendicular to the binding, balancing ever so slightly, moved by currents of air or the slight trembling of our hands as we open the book.

But, surprisingly, the elimination of these tangible moments is not my main objection to virtual books (although I must confess to being quite loathe to do without them). Rather, its that e-books and their likely virtual descendants will become disruptive technology. They will redefine the act of reading itself (and are, to a certain extent, doing so already), transforming it from a primarily personal (and private) experience to a wired, social networking event, where we are linked and streamed to death.

At the time I wrote that post, e-books were in there "primitive" stages, really nothing more than black text on a grayish-white screen. But literary agent Nathan Bransford recently pointed to a new development in virtual reading that is about to come out from distributor Baker & Taylor. It seems that the company is about to release a high-functioning, multi-platform e-reader, called Blio. According to The Idea Logical blog:

Blio is a software client that can work on “any device with an operating system”, which means computers and iPhones, but not Kindles. Based only on the demo we saw from Baker & Taylor Senior VP Linda Gagnon last week (of course I’d rather be reporting on something I saw on my own computer or iPhone), the presentation is the best I’ve ever seen. The type is crisp and sharp, it has full multiple-media functionality (video, graphics, TTV, links to the web), and it does tricks, my favorite of which is that you can see (on a PC screen) many pages at a time dealt out like a deck of cards. Then you find the ones you want and hone in on them. There are many ways to use that capability, particularly for an illustrated how-to book or a textbook.

The disruptive nature of e-readers and e-books continues apace. Don't get me wrong, I find the effects of e-books on publishing models and the act of reading to be fascinating, and the marketing part of my brain is buzzing with ideas for how to market products and monetize the virtual reading experience. And yet, I can't help but think that cracking open a physical book will soon become one of those quaint customs that you see on "classic" films and in historical re-enactments.

For sure, I will never give up the physical book. However, I literally grew up with books as my companions. The D-Generation, for whom multi-media platforms, streaming content, and social networking are a way of life, may not have the same attachment to printed thins. Is this a crisis of epic proportions? No. Is there something intrinsic to reading a physical book that makes it a more virtuous experience than reading virtually? No.

And still, I think I am living during a technological shift in culture, and I find myself more than a little ambivalent. I'll always have great physical books to curl up with. But how long will these books be around for future generations?

No, I don't think books will ever disappear completely. But the printing press brought a technological shift to culture that made learning, study, and the pursuit of knowledge more egalitarian. No longer did books need to be painstakingly copied and illuminated by master craftsmen. With the advent of e-reading, I can imagine a time when the cost of physically printing a book will be so high, that only the very rich or elite will possess their own personal libraries.

I am standing as a bridge between the digital and analog culture, and the view is a little unsettling. I think I'll disconnect from the web, unplug my computer, and go read a book for a while.