Oh no, it's not!
For quite some time, less so these days perhaps, commentators have remarked that the book as we know it is a dying breed. We're all going digital and books will move into that sphere in a big way. Ultimately. Apparently. So we're told.
You can download your music, but some still prefer to hear their favourites on the old vinyl because, they say, it sounds better, with a depth and quality untouched by the digital world.
Personally, I've never bought into the suggestion - a prophecy to some - that I'll be reading books via some hand held, and hence, smallish screen at some point in the future. If this blog is still around, should it happen, you can come back and smear it with all sorts of variations of "I told you so" comments. A book, as we currently know it, is more than the sum of its parts.
I was led into this post by the fact that I have just started a course and find that my available time for reading for pleasure has diminished considerably. First there's the day job to pay the bills. Then come the family commitments to be juggled with the course work and course reading. The rest of life then follows... At the moment and for the forseeable future, well, three years if I manage the course, my reading for pleasure is severely curtailed. But I look forward to the times, the breaks, the holidays when I can read a book for pleasure as I did up until just three months ago. As I wait for and plan the right moments, I am still book buying and this had made me more aware of the fact that a book is more than the sum of its parts.
As I buy, but postpone my reading, I'm more aware of the benefits of the books I'd choose to read for pleasure. A book has a physical presence as well as an opening into our imaginations in the form of a story, where a novel or a portrayal of places to which we have not been. So, there's the reading bit, which, if taken in isolation can be transferred to digital media as well as its accompanying photographs, where relevant. But there's also the physical presence of the book as we know it, as we are currently familiar with it.
Publishers devote much time to covers, the visual display and the narrative. They also determine what type of paper is used and the format in which the book will be published. And here we meet my thoughts on the benefits of the book in its current format. Holding and handling a new book is such a pleasure and a treasure - it holds so much promise. The smell of the book, that fresh smell, holds promise. I may have little time for reading for pleasure these days but I still appreciate the feel of a new purchase.
Therefore, I give you some of my favourites (most non-crime fiction as it happens) when it comes to the value of a book in its current format. In my mind, a digitised version cannot compete.
I recently added a link to Clare Dudman's blog as her blog grabbed my attention on a frequent basis. This led me to her site and her work as an author, and, as a result, and because of my current studying interests, I purchased her book "98 Reasons for Being".
I'm not sure when I will read it, but the book impressed me on receipt. I loved the "aged" and non-shiny cover. I loved the weight of it in my hands. I loved the size of it in my hands. I thought the picture on the cover was a good depiction of what the story promised. I loved the feel of the paper for the sleeve and the pages within.
Clare has published the picture for this book on her blog, as it applies to The Netherlands. (Scroll back to the archives for March 2006 to see it.) That picture, too is evocative. Perhaps more so. Either way, this is a book that will outlast me. It's just too precious to hand on or sell.
Christmas 2005, I asked for this book and I received it. The book more than met my expectations. It's hard, solid and heavy (very) and each page is a crisp and a thick leaf in the book. The cover is also a wonderful, solid and enduring texture and substance, able to run its course. Like "98 Reasons for Being" it's also a matted cover variety, as opposed to shiny, which in my case attracts and not deters.
This book reminded me of an experience in my teens: "Life on Earth"from David Attenborough may have been a TV series first, but the accompanying book provided a lasting memory to hold and to refer to, as I did at least once with my younger cousins.
To have and to hold - this book captures my heart. The weight may make it suitable for kitchen presence but I'd never let mine run the risk of a splash of extra virgin oil. More from the victuals' virtuoso here.
This is not the only book in Fforde's series to come out in hard back in the same format. Smaller than the normal hard back and truly evocative of the 1950s in its cover, this book did not fall into my hands, it found a home in them.
It's like having a brick in your hands.
Sometimes glossy embossed on a bank of matt cover, this little brick, because of its originality in size and weight is individual and holds unknown and unimaginable promise. It's one to hold and treasure as well as one to watch in respect of the author's output.
Lastly, I recently read a book that came as a soft cover. Its cover did the deed. But the blurb from India Knight, a columnist on The Sunday Times, was a bonus. Indeed, I bought the book, and read it as a result of Knight's article on the book in The Sunday Times.
It made good "getting to sleep" reading, I'm sorry to admit, as the book is worth far more than that. (It's the modern social commentary that Knight said it is.)
The cover does well in depicting what is to come; extremely so. It's a worthy soft cover issue. A hard back version would have made no difference to me, apart from price. But the cover visual does make a good depiction of what this book is all about and the fun in reading it. Led by Knight's article, I bought and read it. The cover does well in bringing the essence of the book to the fore. It's a "love you and leave you" book in more than one way. Great to handle and enjoy at the time of reading, it's a book made for the "sloppily well used"look and will gain something when it takes on the familiar crescent shape that results from at least two readings.
"Millions..." is about internet dating and connections. Thomas was asked to pursue the internet dating facility for a journalism article. He fulfilled his contract and in this book we get to know what he experienced along the way, as well as joining him in celebration, where he found the love of his life through these "journalistic" endeavours.
A book is not merely a communication of thought, it's also an object of desire in its own right. It's a package of many dynamics and, in my mind, it can never be condensed to a simplistic structure. Like other gems, a diamond sparkles in the right light. Behind that, a diamond has the strongest type of bond in linking its molecules. In reality, it's so good to feel a book in your hands and to turn the first page. That's the diamond. Anything less is simply less. And so much less.
If I find little time for reading at the moment, I can still enjoy my books as I admire them for their looks and handle them.
Perhaps one day we'll all hear stories that are downloaded audio files. Perhaps one day we'll be cooking to Jamie's voice in our kitchens. But, for now, neither can beat the feel of a book in our hands and our ability to critique it, without reservation, and in our own time. And how does your hand-held smell after a time? Less plastic, but still the same? How permanent is it? How well does it weather the times?
Please, please, please; I for one, love the book as we know it, any day.
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