Last weekend, while I waited for my friend Julie to show up at Barnes & Noble (a weekly meeting which entails Starbucks coffee, a stack of books, and four hours of meandering conversation), I browsed the Mystery section looking for new inspiration to satiate my recent Cozy-binge. My interest was captured by a series by Cara Black (who is not a cozy writer, though she does write compelling mysteries). The books had two things going for them from the start, beautiful cover art, which perfectly conveyed their second attribute: Paris, one of my favorite cities in the world. I picked up Murder on the Ile Saint-Louis (An Aimee Leduc Investigation, Vol. 7) and read the first few pages, it was a keeper that would be added to my 'to-read' list.
Happy that I'd discovered a new author, I reflected on the fact that this discovery was due to: 1) that I was actually in a real bricks and mortar bookstore, instead of wandering around Amazon.com, where 95% of my book purchases are made from the comfort of home, and 2) the attractive cover art that compelled me to pick the book from the shelf...again, not something that would have happened if I'd been shopping on Amazon.
This experience got me wondering about books and the book buying experience and the future of both...
Premise One: bookstores provide an attractive venue for capturing readers through idle browsing. We begin by looking for one book and then find a neighboring book equally captivating until we amass not just the one we'd come in for, but five more that we can't live without.
Premise Two: Books, in printed form, are often sold first visually, through compelling cover art, the satisfying weight of the pages with their deckle edges, the ease of a serif-typeface against a creamy background, and the comfortable 'hand-feel', literally how it rests in the hand.
Premise Three: Which leads me to thoughts of my own library of books. There are books that I own which can trigger happy memories simply by looking at the cover or feeling the rough linen binding and remembering where I was in my life when I first purchased it. Recently, I read that a Kindle can store up to 1500 books, which means that I could conceivably get rid of every book I own and simply and conveniently carry around my entire library in my purse. But would the happy memories be erased when sensory cues from their physical presence was gone?
Premise Four: I've been on a cozy-mystery reading binge lately in part because of my sister-in-law Kathy who is an avid reader and promoter of cozies. At some point, one must simply succumb to her enthusiasm. One aspect of our book-loving relationship is that from time to time, instead of simply recommending a book, Kathy will actually hand me her own copy of the book, passing it along to me to read. It is my understanding that with Kindle's DRM technology this bit of sisterly-sharing would not be possible.
Happy that I'd discovered a new author, I reflected on the fact that this discovery was due to: 1) that I was actually in a real bricks and mortar bookstore, instead of wandering around Amazon.com, where 95% of my book purchases are made from the comfort of home, and 2) the attractive cover art that compelled me to pick the book from the shelf...again, not something that would have happened if I'd been shopping on Amazon.
This experience got me wondering about books and the book buying experience and the future of both...
Premise One: bookstores provide an attractive venue for capturing readers through idle browsing. We begin by looking for one book and then find a neighboring book equally captivating until we amass not just the one we'd come in for, but five more that we can't live without.
Premise Two: Books, in printed form, are often sold first visually, through compelling cover art, the satisfying weight of the pages with their deckle edges, the ease of a serif-typeface against a creamy background, and the comfortable 'hand-feel', literally how it rests in the hand.
Premise Three: Which leads me to thoughts of my own library of books. There are books that I own which can trigger happy memories simply by looking at the cover or feeling the rough linen binding and remembering where I was in my life when I first purchased it. Recently, I read that a Kindle can store up to 1500 books, which means that I could conceivably get rid of every book I own and simply and conveniently carry around my entire library in my purse. But would the happy memories be erased when sensory cues from their physical presence was gone?
Premise Four: I've been on a cozy-mystery reading binge lately in part because of my sister-in-law Kathy who is an avid reader and promoter of cozies. At some point, one must simply succumb to her enthusiasm. One aspect of our book-loving relationship is that from time to time, instead of simply recommending a book, Kathy will actually hand me her own copy of the book, passing it along to me to read. It is my understanding that with Kindle's DRM technology this bit of sisterly-sharing would not be possible.
Rather, it seems that your purchase of a book in Kindle format does not entirely bequeath ownership to you, since you are not free to transfer your ownership to others, and since as in the recent unfortunate Orwellian incident, Amazon seems to have the magical ability to erase a book that you have purchased. Which gives me pause when I re-consider Premise Three and Amazon's conceivable ability to wipe-out my entire library. Which raises an interesting question: if you purchase an ebook are you the owner of the book? Or are you simply buying the right to read the book for some specified period of time to be determined by the seller? At present, it seems that $9.99 only conveys readership not ownership.
I've never read a book using a Kindle, though I imagine it would be a very convenient format for reading light entertainment, like the audio books I borrow from the library and listen to in my car as I drive around town. I also imagine that it would be like my iphone experience, something I reach for when I'm waiting in line or at an airport and rather than be bored, I entertain myself by reading the latest headlines from The Daily Beast, or the NY Times app I've downloaded. As a traveler, I can see the enormous benefits to be enjoyed in downloading a pile of books to read on a trip instead of lugging an extra ten pounds of weight in my luggage or carryon, especially as airlines charge for everything these days. I'm even looking forward to checking out the new Apple 'tablet' that is supposed to give Kindle a run for its money (I bet it will be a multi-media platform that willl challenge Kindle in both form and function). I even welcome the adaption of ebooks to replace the cumbersome and outrageously expensive textbook, ebooks will allow them to be customized and updated continuously to reflect the latest advances in education.
I realise that ebooks are inexorably part of our future and will gain market share until print books eventually go the way of records. In many respects, they are a positive development as they provide an economical means to transport and read a large library. But it also changes the nature of what it means to read a book, when the book is no longer a book but simply electronically transmitted content.
I wonder what will happen to our few remaining bookstores, the skill of hand selling, the pleasure of browsing the shelves and discovering a new author, or the satisfying pleasure of physically turning the last page of book. I know that Amazon currently allows Kindle owners to download free samples of books, and perhaps this will eventually take the place of in store browsing, or maybe the bookstore of the future will be a coffee shop with walls lined with books that you browse and then download to your ebook devise with a swipe of your card.
And finally I wonder about the lasting experience of reading via an ebook....years ago I read Anna Karenina for the first time. It took me three years of fitful starts and stops to get through the entire book. But to this day, I will never forget the feel of the book in my hands, how intimidated I was when I started, how I measured my progress by watching the progress of my bookmark's march through the pages, how confident I felt at the end, of reading and then re-reading the final chapters. I wonder what in the reading experience will be lost when we lose printed books?
I wonder what will happen to our few remaining bookstores, the skill of hand selling, the pleasure of browsing the shelves and discovering a new author, or the satisfying pleasure of physically turning the last page of book. I know that Amazon currently allows Kindle owners to download free samples of books, and perhaps this will eventually take the place of in store browsing, or maybe the bookstore of the future will be a coffee shop with walls lined with books that you browse and then download to your ebook devise with a swipe of your card.
And finally I wonder about the lasting experience of reading via an ebook....years ago I read Anna Karenina for the first time. It took me three years of fitful starts and stops to get through the entire book. But to this day, I will never forget the feel of the book in my hands, how intimidated I was when I started, how I measured my progress by watching the progress of my bookmark's march through the pages, how confident I felt at the end, of reading and then re-reading the final chapters. I wonder what in the reading experience will be lost when we lose printed books?
2 comments:
In spite of purchasing a Kindle in late May, I have yet to buy an ebook. I will someday...when that read is not likely to be a keeper!
Oh I hope that books in print don't go by the wayside.
I would miss the book smell and heft of its weight in my hands.
Digital reading is just not the same for me...
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