A Book is a Book is Not a Book: The Cultural Dilemma of the eReader

I'm a relative newcomer to eReader technology, yet I have been thrust into it by virtue of association with Barnes & Noble...yet also stepped willingly, if I may admit. Media philosophy, postmodernity, and "new variations on the old" kind of fascinate me (and was part of my shaping at Emerson College). Collide that with a love of reading and I am drawn. Combine that with "working the nook desk" at the world's greatest bookstore, whose new foray into the market, the aforementioned nook, blasted onto the scene this past October, and I've found myself in the middle of a unique spasm on the cultural seismograph chart.

First, an "eReader" or "electronic book reader" is like an iPod for the written word. About the size of a trade paperback, it is a gadget that allows the user to download digital copies of books wirelessly and read them on a screen designed to appear like a printed page. nook combines the color technology of an iPhone-like touchscreen to the package, back by a million titles and counting, and in-store support that Amazon's frontrunner Kindle lacks. Did I mention it can hold up to 17,000 books?

It's a pretty neat little thing. Everyone seems to agree, but I think that's where the agreement ends. As I've spent my days submersed in not only the technological updates, but in customer response, I've determined this: eReaders are cultural polarizers. At their best they are lauded as wave-of-the-future technology for immediate access to digital content; at their worst they have been likened to the ideology behind bookburning. It appears they're messing with something precious to history and society here.

But what exactly is that, and why?

The most frequent unsolicited opinion I have received in my days at the nook desk is, "I like books." This comes in variations, from a tossed-off comment ("I just like books instead.") to vehemency ("How dare you, you are killing books!"). Which is false: an eReader can access the same books, the same information, the same printed page, the same words, in quicker time and in more convenient ways, actually. So my favorite response is, "It's the same content. Just in a different format." Which is true: a book is a written piece, a collection of words, that is a manifestation of the ideas of its writer. A book is content, whether it be in print, written on a wall, imprinted into a wax tablet, scrawled onto a scroll, read aloud on a CD, recited from memory, or displayed on a screen. A book is a book is a book.

Their responses are interesting. Either we discuss media philosophy, or they get red and stalk off. But the most interesting, and culturally revealing response, is this: "There's just something about a book..." And they rub their fingers together.

Tactile. So that's it. This isn't about content. This is about packaging. My heart sinks. Marshall McLuhan was right. The medium has indeed become the message.

But this begs the further question: Can medium be separated from message, or have the two become inextricably woven together to create what we, in fact, call "a book"? In other words, has traditional formatting - ink, paper, cardboard, glue - become just as important as the words and ideas the ink, paper, cardboard, and glue convey? It seems, in this, is the split. Those who will balk the eReader, and those who will embrace it; those who say that medium and message are combined, and those who can separate the medium and the message (or those who don't care what medium the message comes in - as we've seen with the popularity of "books on tape"). The word "traditionalist" has come into play a lot, too, in my conversations, like those who say, "it'll take a lot to convince me."

I think it's silly to compromise the message for the sake of the medium. If I want to read something, I'll take it how I can get it, because I'm more interested in the content than the form. But at the same time seeing digital rub a raw nerve people never knew they had is forcing me to look at my preferences for reading. I do like serifed fonts. I do prefer trade paperbacks over hardcover or mass market. I do purchase a purse based on how many books it can hold. I do like my library. I do like underlining. Yet I have downloaded eBooks for immediate access. I have read a book in .pdf on my computer. I was more interested in the content, and it was the content I wanted to access, not the experience. It didn't shatter my reading traits, or usher in a Fahrenheit 451-esque reality. I curled up on my couch with a good book on my computer, and it was great. I also like the sense of ownership in a printed work. I like the shape and design. They say a book's cover most likely sells it. I like the third space air of bookstores, but that can be replicated elsewhere. Bookstores are ultimately for browsing and buying, which as we've seen can happen anywhere, especially online. So what's the issue? Can't I have the best of both worlds, if what I get at the time in the way of books fulfills my needs? I guess many don't see it that way.

Do I see eReaders "killing" books? No. I see them taking their place somehow in all of this, perhaps as just another preferred format (hardcover, trade, mass market, digital). Do I see people reading less, as a few customers have implied might happen? Not at all! I see more reading to come. Do I see a unique cultural split happening? Yes, I do. Do I see eReaders as a necessary technology? Honestly, no, I don't. It's a toy. Which begs the question: Is this the necessary way to go, as "books" are becoming "obsolete," or are companies venturing into eReaders and eBook technology just because they can? But that's a whole other blog post...