At the risk of sounding like a crotchety old man, I fear that certain advancements in technology are leading to the downfall of civilization as we know it.
My enjoyment of music has little to do with the physical album or its artwork, so I didn’t care much when music stores disappeared as iTunes became my exclusive provider of jams. Being accosted by desperate Union Tribune reps on street corners never fazed me either; a born skimmer, I continued to keep myself minimally informed via online news sources. And mooching off friends with Netflix and access to quality bootlegs has always seemed preferable to a fruitless trip to Blockbuster.
When it comes to music, news and movies, I’ve been all about technological progress. But as my inbox becomes increasingly flooded with store closing sale alerts from Borders and Barnes & Noble, the juggernauts of the book industry, because of their inability to compete with e-readers, I’m beginning to realize this has gone too far.
Suddenly the Martin Niemöller “First they came for the communists…” quote seems alarmingly relevant to my shallow life. Tangible media was being devoured by online alternatives all around me and I never blinked an eye. Now they’re coming for my books and it appears that we’re at a point of no return.
Sad, Borders. Do you sell books or mattresses?
It’s not that I can’t find value in e-readers. I recognize that my ownership of a Kindle could have already saved me from the following regrettable airplane activities: watching a shockingly un-hilarious Jennifer Aniston movie about artificial insemination, completing the same Spirit magazine crossword for the second time in two days, rapid knee bouncing while staring straight ahead.
But e-readers as an alternative to books? How can this be?! They’re just so…soulless. Please consider the following:
You cannot fall asleep on the beach with an e-reader covering your face,
You cannot scribble in the margins of an e-reader, save your place by leaving it open and facedown, dog-ear the corners of your favorite pages, and generally mistreat it while simultaneously increasing its nostalgic value,
You cannot strategically place your fingertips in an e-reader so as to frequently flip
to the map of the main character’s journey and/or hometown;
to the photographs of the non-fictional setting fastened in the center;
to gaze admiringly at the picture of the author after reading a particularly impressive passage,
You cannot hide your e-reader behind Berenstain Bear books because you are terrified when Helen Keller goes blind and deaf in the Miracle Worker,
You cannot hide your e-reader behind Encyclopedia Brown books because you aren’t ready for your mother to know you are reading Judy Blume’s candid descriptions of puberty,
You cannot enjoy purchasing a book on an e-reader the same way you enjoy a trip to the bookstore. Browsing book titles online and clicking a button to order them will never be the same as
crouching in an aisle to read the first chapter because you can’t wait until you get home;
crouching in an aisle to read the last chapter because you want to know the ending but you don’t care enough to buy the book;
scanning an enormous shelf of bright book spines and choosing one at random;
feeling superior to bookstore employees because of their dismal “favorites” selection;
standing in front of the “Classics” display and feeling smug about how many you’ve already read,
You cannot enjoy an e-reader on the toilet or in the tub without considerable risk of damage to an expensive piece of property,
You cannot write a note on the back of the cover of an e-reader before giving it to a friend,
You cannot be the third or fourth owner of a well-loved e-book, or sell it at a yard sale for 25 cents,
You cannot create a satisfactory bonfire with an e-reader when you are outraged by its liberal leanings.
The problem with these new fangled devices is that they will never capture the part of the reading experience that goes beyond the actual text. A book is something you can smell, touch, tear important pages from, throw at your brother, spill on, bend, make a paper cover for, lend, love, leave behind. Your physical interaction with a book enhances your relationship with the words in way that a sterile, generic e-reader can never hope to, no matter how authentic its highlighting tools. And when I think about a generation of texting, Angry Bird-playing robot children growing up without ever having experienced this interaction, I seriously worry about the human race.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to gingerly climb down from my soapbox; it’s past my bedtime, and I need to take advantage of these sales prices and stock up on some books for my bomb shelter before they cease to exist.
Occupation: Cubicle Monkey 
Couldn’t agree more. In fact, I think the only thing that could possibly rival the outrageousness of books becomming obsolete is perhaps the most ridiculous decision by my home state in an effort to curb the education budget: Arizona has eliminated cursif as part of our curriculum. I am horrified and ashamed to admit it, but in the future it is likely you may meet a young individual from Arizona who is unable to sign his or her name because he or she never learned cursif. Embarassing…
What do you mean by sign your name? Oh do you mean when you type your initials into that box?
Wonderful article. So when can I expect to find your material in print form in an effort to help the cause?
Touche Lear, touche.
You are so right on so many levels.
I just like to turn the pages and I can tell how much
more glorious reading I get just by SEEING how
many pages are left in the book.
And I know that you can’t get a best selling novel on Kindle for $1.00, but I can find them at the Friends of the Libary bookstore.
I knew there was a reason I saved all my favorite books from my childhood. There’s something about the smell…that perfect combination of old paper and my grandma’s house. Love!
I love the description of the bookstore. Smug indeed. How about jauntily listening in to people’s conversations and feeling superior, but also slightly jealous, because they are just now reading something wonderful for the first time.
I sat in on a county commissioners meeting yesterday wherein (will kids know this word anymore?) they discussed the 15 yr plan for the libraries. There was the usual talk of maybe we need to close some libraries, but also how libraries are so much more than just a place for books. And one person pointed out that in their plan, they had neglected the original purpose for libraries; a place to go and relax and enjoy a book. Someone else pointed out that most people at the library were watching movies online.
Also, you cannot hide an ebook behind your math textbook in 3rd grade, and consequently never learn how to do long multiplication.
aw omg i also feel so jealous of people who get to read a good book for the first time. if you go long enough between re-readings you can get a bit of that feeling back but never all the way.
i like holding a book. so many feelings, like… the way you hold it changes as you progress through more pages, you know?? and there’s a certain point in the middle where it feels perfect, like you have the perfect grip on it or something. sometimes i like it when the binding cracks and it’s easier to read.
throwing a book in frustration!! a beautiful thing to do
i’m sure if people exclusively use e-readers (kind of a gross name though), they might discover their own special things and associated feelings. but for me book feelings are so perfect that i would never think to replace them.
Calm yourself sister, this is fantastic news. Borders is going out of business because it has all the ambiance and ambition of a literary Stater Bros. (see how SoCal I am?) Fortunately for Stater Bros, everyone has to eat, but as Borders discovered, not everyone has to buy books.
Reasons to go to Borders: 2 for 1 paperbacks, gifts, the last Harry Potter is out and omgineeditlikethreemonthsagoinhardcover. Unfortunately, Borders thought that they needed huge stores for this business to fill with things like off-brand coffee and digital media that everyone buys at other places with better prices and selection. None of these products lure hardcore book buyers.
The Kindle is not destroying bookstores. People will always buy books because of the things you cherish about them, like their sun screening properties. Also, let’s not forget the extra note of intrigue books on the shelf lend to any living space–invaluable when trying to convince someone to sleep with you despite the fact that you rarely have deep thoughts about anything but Top Chef. And book binding glue… that shit just smells good. Books straight up do all that stuff better than e-books.
What, though, does Borders do better than the Amazon/library/actual supermarket combo platter? If you live in a decent sized city, literally nothing. That’s why Borders is going away. It’s the CD of the bookstore world. I don’t need the handwritten suggestion from their 17-year-old staffer to tell me to read Catcher in the Rye–thanks dude, I have the internet, where there are more people with more opinions on cheaper books, and I don’t have to trip over pyramids of Twilight novels and preteens reading back issues of anime.
What this really means is that every city now has a better chance of scoring something like a Powell’s–a true temple to the book, and a worthy place in which to conduct your worship, in between towering stacks of the relevant and the obscure, the new and used, the well-loved and the waiting-to-be-discovered. Basically all the good shit Borders had to keep out of their stores to try to sell you Con-Air on Blu-Ray and some wrapping paper. Good riddance.
Hopefully none of this implies that kids are going to be okay. They’re totally fucked, but I think books and their stores are going to do just fine.
I guess it is kind of ironic that I pointed out the soulless qualities of e-readers while lamenting the collapse of a store as characterless as Borders. Thank you for that reminder and your comment, because it actually makes me feel much more optimistic…and also, how did you know that I strategically place my unread Urban Studies text books from college on my most visible book cases when I’m trying to score with socially conscious, educated women?
Love, love, love this post! I see I raised you right 🙂 And, BTW, are you sure I didn’t BUY that Judy Blume book for you? Oh, and I totally agree with Kristy!
I used to work at a Stater Bros. It was OK.
“crotchety old man.” I hold Paul McCartney’s grampa character in HARD DAY’S NIGHT (the movie) as my ideal.”He’s a clean old man.” You will be lucky to make it to this exalted realm, and then everybody you know will be sick and dying all around you. Oh well, I remain equanimous, and just try to enjoy the living, like you and Laney. Keep on pedalin’!