Reading Between The Lines: Is the end (of physical books) near?
Ah, books, our pulpy, papery
friends. Without them, history
would be a lot less literate and,
more importantly, my column
wouldn't exist.
For more than just reading, books have those niche purposes. Be it Romania using donated bibles for toilet paper in event of shortages, or the more politically minded using it as kindling for their burnings, it's undeniable that physical paper has a sense of purpose stuck with it. Despite all this, it seems that these carriers of enlightenment who have spread literacy around the world for hundreds of years are slowly becoming endangered species.
Already, Amazon has reported that the sale of contemporary digital books has outstripped that of its traditional physical counterpart. And why not? On paper (heh), digital is the way to go. For those long trips in the more remote parts of the world, rather than drag along 50 or so paperbacks in a rucksack, it would make more sense to carry a Kindle or Kobo that could easily store twice that amount and still take up the same room and weight (save for the device's atomic weight changing due to the additional electrons from more data, but let's not get into that). Even I'm guilty of this grievance against the common book. Nearly everything I've reviewed for this column has been a result of taking my Kobo out for those especially long rides on the 27 Fanshawe. Google and various organizations have tasked themselves with scanning and digitally archiving works that predate the very first steam-powered analog computation automaton. Books are perishable; they burn easily, they can house bugs or fungal growth, fade, tear, fall apart — their fragility is almost human, isn't it? They even have a spine!
In this fast-paced, buck-a-minute world where convenience seems to be the ways of the old's biggest killer, are books really going to die out almost completely? The answer to this question lies with our good friend, the vinyl LP.
Half-starved to death with the complete takeover of audio CDs as the audiophile's standard medium, the vinyl LP should be a distant memory by now, but instead, the opposite has happened. The format has seen such a huge resurgence in popularity that there's even a Wikipedia article detailing this interesting phenomenon. With music being as conveniently available through digital media like iTunes and Spotify, why are people regressing back to the ways of the old, bulky, analogue LP?
It's because we like to feel what we buy.
Oh sure, purchasing a digital album for $10 a pop, or even just buying individual tracks is convenient, but in the end, it's completely ethereal. You have no proof, no way to really exclaim your love of the band and their music; at the risk of sounding like a troglodyte, what you just bought on iTunes doesn't really exist, and that thought leaves you with a certain emptiness, doesn't it? Combined with the loudness war (where CD re-releases of popular music have been fiddled with and equalized in a manner that destroys musical nuances), the average enthusiast has begun to fall back on vinyl. And of course, for those who like it retro but still don't enjoy the notion of dragging an LP player on the bus, lot of modern vinyl releases or re-releases also come with a coupon redeemable online for a digital version of the album, making the choice less difficult.
I'm not trying to imply that those who buy physical versions of their entertainment, despite the digital alternative's existent, do it for vanity's sake. It's just nice to feel, hold, touch and put on your shelf for the world to see what you just bought. Amazon has already begun to recognize this distinction, and generally bundle their paperbacks with Kindle redeemable coupons. Paperback sales going down isn't a sign of their doom; save for a global catastrophe wiping out loggable trees completely, the physical book isn't going anywhere.
Reading Between The Lines explores books that you may have missed out on that are worth your while. If you have a book to suggest, email Eshaan at e_gupta@fanshaweonline.ca.
For more than just reading, books have those niche purposes. Be it Romania using donated bibles for toilet paper in event of shortages, or the more politically minded using it as kindling for their burnings, it's undeniable that physical paper has a sense of purpose stuck with it. Despite all this, it seems that these carriers of enlightenment who have spread literacy around the world for hundreds of years are slowly becoming endangered species.
Already, Amazon has reported that the sale of contemporary digital books has outstripped that of its traditional physical counterpart. And why not? On paper (heh), digital is the way to go. For those long trips in the more remote parts of the world, rather than drag along 50 or so paperbacks in a rucksack, it would make more sense to carry a Kindle or Kobo that could easily store twice that amount and still take up the same room and weight (save for the device's atomic weight changing due to the additional electrons from more data, but let's not get into that). Even I'm guilty of this grievance against the common book. Nearly everything I've reviewed for this column has been a result of taking my Kobo out for those especially long rides on the 27 Fanshawe. Google and various organizations have tasked themselves with scanning and digitally archiving works that predate the very first steam-powered analog computation automaton. Books are perishable; they burn easily, they can house bugs or fungal growth, fade, tear, fall apart — their fragility is almost human, isn't it? They even have a spine!
In this fast-paced, buck-a-minute world where convenience seems to be the ways of the old's biggest killer, are books really going to die out almost completely? The answer to this question lies with our good friend, the vinyl LP.
Half-starved to death with the complete takeover of audio CDs as the audiophile's standard medium, the vinyl LP should be a distant memory by now, but instead, the opposite has happened. The format has seen such a huge resurgence in popularity that there's even a Wikipedia article detailing this interesting phenomenon. With music being as conveniently available through digital media like iTunes and Spotify, why are people regressing back to the ways of the old, bulky, analogue LP?
It's because we like to feel what we buy.
Oh sure, purchasing a digital album for $10 a pop, or even just buying individual tracks is convenient, but in the end, it's completely ethereal. You have no proof, no way to really exclaim your love of the band and their music; at the risk of sounding like a troglodyte, what you just bought on iTunes doesn't really exist, and that thought leaves you with a certain emptiness, doesn't it? Combined with the loudness war (where CD re-releases of popular music have been fiddled with and equalized in a manner that destroys musical nuances), the average enthusiast has begun to fall back on vinyl. And of course, for those who like it retro but still don't enjoy the notion of dragging an LP player on the bus, lot of modern vinyl releases or re-releases also come with a coupon redeemable online for a digital version of the album, making the choice less difficult.
I'm not trying to imply that those who buy physical versions of their entertainment, despite the digital alternative's existent, do it for vanity's sake. It's just nice to feel, hold, touch and put on your shelf for the world to see what you just bought. Amazon has already begun to recognize this distinction, and generally bundle their paperbacks with Kindle redeemable coupons. Paperback sales going down isn't a sign of their doom; save for a global catastrophe wiping out loggable trees completely, the physical book isn't going anywhere.
Reading Between The Lines explores books that you may have missed out on that are worth your while. If you have a book to suggest, email Eshaan at e_gupta@fanshaweonline.ca.
