Dear Children: I’m Dead, Here’s A Bunch of Computer Files

The “blogosphere” (aka: the blogs in my subscription queue) has been “buzzing” about the state of e-publishing, about self-publishers who have struck it rich with their e-book, and these stories are complementary goods to the insistent posts forewarning everyone that the old guard publishing industry is really, really e-worried about this and should really, really be e-rethinking their business model right now.

After sticking it to enraged Luddites the world over by going digital with all of the wife’s and my music, I’m still holding out on the e-book thing. Besides the space saving factor, I’m seeing the major advantages of e-readers is the quickness and cheapness compared to physical book purchases. But those advantages only go so far and for me it doesn’t push quite over the line.

The secondary reason of having all your books in one place is irrelevant to me. Unless you’re a research student or an argumentative, overbearing bibliophile-type, you’re not going to need your whole library to go mobile. If you’re reading more than two or three books at a time for pleasure, you need a psych evaluation more than you need an e-reader.

Neither am I stuck on the tactility advantage of books, although I don’t mind it terribly. I just mainly like the idea of buying something once and that’s it. No need to charge anything or fix anything or upgrade to the Latest Razor-thin Internet Device™ or back anything up in my underground shelter in case every copper wire in the world melts simultaneously. Languages and narrative are among the last few things left in this world that are mostly technology-independent and I gosh darn well don’t feel like having to rely on a handful of blunted plastic and the eastern American electrical grid to enjoy them.

Then there’s the other matter of leaving a library behind for the little one and the littler one coming soon. There’s something anti-climactic about mentioning “all those PDFs and .azw files on that one external hardrive in the basement,” in my will. But by the time I’m dead and gone, would things have changed so much technologically to make this a non-issue?

My reluctance is subjective, though; I’m sure there were some horse-and-buggy riders that were unreasonably attached to horses. I just haven’t been conditioned enough yet to happy with switching over. Committing to an e-reader now would be like eating chili made by a cook with a zealous hot sauce wrist: yeah, it’s good but I’m too busy trying to control my involuntary muscle reflexes from the spiciness instead of actually enjoying it. Who wants to read a whole novel with indigestion? Not me.