The end of an era

Personanondata writes in a story entitled The Physical Book Forever After: "Many believe the physical book will disappear within in the next ten years yet the example of the music CD suggests the future of the book may be more nuanced."

The ebook question crops up every time I give a public talk (or a lecture) on the subject of publishing and writing. The first time was at a Rotary meeting at a downtown hotel about six years ago. Do ebooks mean the end of "normal" books?

I remember saying at that time that the technology was not quite in place yet; the hardware, the software, and the internet were quite there yet, though they could catch up. But more importantly, they would have to sort out the financial model, which they will, too. But still it will not be the end for the physical book entirely; they will have to coexist for quite a while.

To quote another line from the blog by Personanondata: "... after more than ten years of both legitimate and illegitimate access to down loadable music, the humble CD together, with its environmentally challenged jewel case continues to represent over 75% of music sold." (This despite the music industry being in such shambles.)

Fast forward to 2010, and I am still asked the same question. The answers to some of the questions have changed but, for others, it remains the same. Do we have the technology now? Yes. Have they sorted out the financial model? More or less. Will the physical book die? Nope.

Yes, there was another round of the "death dance" by the media when the Kindle was released two years ago. No figures have been released by Amazon, but some analysts estimate about two or three million sold in that period, and the ebook market is currently thought to be about 5% of the total. There is no question that the publishing industry is in serious trouble, but it is mainly their fault, not that of the ebooks. (A Mail Online report on 30th Dec 2009 said: "Nielsen Bookscan has found that of 86,000 new titles published in the UK in 2009, 59,000 sold an average of 18 copies." Do we need to say more?)

I met Adrian the other day and he was saying how he met someone going on a holiday and had a Kindle with him with everything he wanted (or intended) to read. Cool, he thought. Yes, true. But with an iPad I’ll be able to take along a few books, DVDs, games, my entire music collection and a whole bunch of magazines too. The Kindle is already, so, last year. (Out of the estimated 2-3 million sold, I wonder how many have already become shelf ornaments?)

Then recently, I came across this story: Alice for the iPad in MacWorld. Then, I went into the iPad store for a peek: "Tilt your iPad to make Alice grow big as a house, or shrink to just six inches tall. Enjoy Alice in Wonderland digitally remastered for the iPad.Throw tarts at the Queen of Hearts - they realistically bounce off her. Witness the Cheshire Cat disappear, and help the Caterpillar smoke his hookah pipe. This wonderful book includes 52 pages and 20 amazing animated scenes.??Watch as full screen physics modeling brings illustrations to life." All this for
USD8.99.

I want it, I want it, I want it! I want it now!

Someone has finally figured out what an ebook is all about, all in true multimedia too. If this doesn't get kids reading, nothng will. It is not about boring black and white text, it is about multimedia. Imagine what this will do to magazines and newspapers, to books on cooking, travel, sports, celebrities, anything with graphics. Thank God for it. I will certainly buy an iPad, or a device like it. Now, I can buy it without any guilt, without having to feel I am betraying my entire over-40-year collection of books.

All my hardbacks that I have bought over the years to collect, to talk about and adorn my shelves, will continue to stand proud in their finest jackets, with nothing to fear. Nor will my first editions feel slighted. I can continue to display and brag about them. (Yes, I am sad that way.) Even my-well read, yellowed, tattered paperbacks, some from my student days but which I still dip into now and then, will know that their place is safe. (By the way, can any digital file last as long? All my hard disks crash in less than 5 years.)

The book is dead. The book is dead. Long live the book.

The class system in literature

Some years ago, when we were still in Desa Seri Hartamas, we were roundly scolded by one of our customers for selling John Grisham titles in Silverfish Books and having the audacity to display the titles in front of the shop. "You are not that type of bookshop," we were told, quite emphatically. Our only response was a very sheepish, "Just trying, lah. Experiment, lah." (For the record, we couldn't sell even one of his books and had to return them all -- it was a failed experiment.)

So what type of bookshop are we? We did have an idea of the type of bookshop we wanted to be when we set it up in mid-1999, right in the middle of an economic (and political) turmoil. It was before the mega bookshop era, and Skoob Books was the only decent bookshop in town. It was a time when chain bookstores had a section for "mature readers", leading to much doubt, introspection and mental trauma. Do I qualify? What if the cashier asks questions? What if she can smell fear? What if they ask for a blood sample to determine my DNA to ascertain I am mature enough? What if I fail the test? What if my friends laugh at me?

Sigh. Life was so-oo difficult.

Anyway, we wanted a bookshop with books we'd want to read, a book boutique as it were, and our customers have made sure we did not deviate from the path. They helped shape the character of Silverfish Books as much as we did, maybe more. And, consequently, we have received both bouquets and brickbats. On the upside we have been called a 'real' bookshop, a 'good' bookshop and a ‘serious’ bookshop. And, on the downside we have been called snobs, hoity-toity and, also, serious.

Book selling has many similarities with the rag trade. There are the boutiques run by designers (or those who pretend to be) for those who care. Then there are the supermarkets selling every damn thing for the consumer. And, there are the reject shops selling overruns, defective merchandise or stuff that has been on shelves for a while, for those who care less, a lot less. Basically, this is true of bookshops too.

Ian Rankin is reported to have said recently that "crime novelists have been placed at the bottom of our literary hierarchy". He was, of course speaking of the British literary scene where poets are generally regarded to be on top, followed by playwrights, and then 'literary' novelists. And after that come people who write crime, thrillers and on espionage, followed by the bottom feeders who do the rest of the stuff which we need not go into.

Some of the class system certainly seems to have filtered down to the colonies. (We shall not go into details, for we fear the wrath.) Personally, we do not subscribe to it at all (no matter how others might view us). There are good books, and there are bad books. Period. We do not necessarily have to like a book to accept some will consider it good, and vice versa. We do have a bias for good prose, though. Poor or lazy writing is so off-putting.

So, we choose every book we put on our shelves, but we do wish we have more resources to buy much more titles we like, quite a lot more. Certainly, we don't want to order every title on the list. (I have written before about why a book is not a shoe.) Unfortunately, poetry and plays are the first to be sacrificed because they really don't sell very well.

There is a rumour out there that good books are hard to read, or that good books are boring. So far, we have little evidence of that. It is a fact, good books make you think. In fact, they mandate thinking. Now, if thinking is considered hard work, then that is another matter.

For the original article see The Guardian