Kindle is here to stay Ð but printed books arenÕt dead yet either

Date Published: 07-Nov-2012

There was a shocking statistic widely reported in the media the other day; from a staritng start two years ago, Amazon is now selling 114 books for every 100 – hard cover and paperback – sold in print, thanks, obviously, to the popularity of its Kindle.

And while there is an incontrovertible inevitability about the growth of electronic books and devices – and a converse fall-off in printed matter – there would something innately sad about a future without the smell and feel of a book in your hand.

Of course the same threat hangs over newspapers and in many parts of the world that demise is already a reality – but let’s not write the obituaries for the old ways just yet. Because old habits die hard.

And while a Kindle is brilliant in that it allows you to store hundreds of books on a device that weighs less than a magazine, there is still something cold and uncomfortable about the process of reading words in a parallel universe.

More to the point, if your library is stored on a device that you would fit in your pocket, what will you put on the book shelves at home? How will you pass on the joy of a good book to a friend? How will your children discover the thrill of a book their parents had loved years before them?

You’ll build up an electronic library that may eventually run to hundreds, if not thousands, of books – and yet, how many of them will you re-read, as you would when you casually browse through the shelves in the sitting room?

There is a feel and a smell of a book that will never be replicated on a Kindle – and that’s not to dismiss its obvious merits.

The arrival of ebooks has allowed new writers to get their work to a wide audience cheaper and quicker than ever before – and occasionally you have a success story like Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James, which sold two million copies in just four months.

They can also be cheaper than the printed version – not least because you will save on the cost of printing and paper – although that’s not a given; for those who looked to download the new JK Rowling novel, Kindle would charge $21.99 while selected book stores here are still selling it at €12.99.

But this isn’t just about price; at the core of the Kindle’s success is the fact that, if you’re a regular traveller, you can have a selection of books and magazines on your reader or iPad; you can fit all the reading material you might ever need into the front pocket of your hold-all.

You can download new publications without leaving your seat; you can buy books in the middle of the night if you’re an insomniac.

But do you ever actually possess a book that only exists in theory?

Where is the note that someone put inside the front cover when they gave it to you as a present?

Where are the little nicks and tears that indicate a well-thumbed novel – or the splintered spine that is less a sign of carelessness and more a sign of real appreciation?

When you go, your library goes with you. There will be no carve-up of your books – or indeed your albums, because they too only exist in theory in their electronic format – and that also deprives others of the chance to know you a little better.

What becomes of the public library – presuming, in fairness, they survive the incessant cuts to state services – where people gather to share an appreciation of good books?

There is a whole build-up of expectation in buying a book; going into a bookstore, looking through the shelves, leafing through the new arrivals or the classics, and heading to the till with a little piece of heaven in your hand.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.