- by Tara Maya
Apocalypse of the Books
Repent, sinner. The end is near.
I now have a Kindle. Even though I’ve had two ebooks published (under another pen name), and have often purchased ebooks to read, I’ve never had a dedicated ebook reader before. I insisted I didn’t need one, wouldn’t want one, couldn’t enjoy one.
I love it.
As I curled up in bed, cuddling my Kindle, the bittersweet thought hit me, Oh, so it’s true. Treebooks are dead.
You see, I can’t even call them just “books” any more, because “books” for ever after will make me think of the content, without necessarily defining the medium. We no longer have mail, we have email or snail mail. We no longer have books, we have ebooks and treebooks.
The image of book apocalypse, by the way, I grokked from a real, recent incident, in which an Amazon shipper abandoned a warehouse full of books.
Here’s my prophecy. Treebooks will not go extinct. There are too many people, like me, who love to caress old covers, turn pages, assemble a forest of spines on magnificant bookcases. But I fear, it is also people like me who will drive the explosion of ereaders and ebooks. Because what I love most about the Kindle is that I can download a book instantly, as soon as I covet it, without going anywhere, without waiting for shipping. Like most introverts, I find anything which helps me interact more with fictional people than flesh people to be a lure.
If I want to turn a book into a social forum, however, it’s easier than ever to add in my own comments and share these with friends, so that our own community commentary interlaces the book, adding a new layer to the original text. Every book can become the mishnah of its own gemara, every ereader a compendium of living talmuds.
What, then, will be the fate of treebooks? I fear, sadly, as ebooks and ereaders become the norm, treebooks will become a luxury. Collectors like me will still shell out hard currency for beautifully bound new editions, but only of books we truly adore. Used books will jump in value.
I have a library of over 10,000 treebooks. A constant battle in our family is where to put my library. I want my library lining the walls of our house. Every wall. (Which is what it would take — our house is not nearly so vast as my collection.) My husband wants my library in the garage, or, preferably, someone else’s garage. One of his motivations in buying me a Kindle was to convince me to sell or give away most of my treebooks.
It’s had the opposite effect. I’m more desparate than ever to hold onto my treebabies. They’re going to be rare collector’s items by the end of my lifetime.
