Paul Whybrow
Full Member
An article in the Guardian this morning set me thinking about old and new technologies, and how they can co-exist.
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/oct/06/waterstones-stop-selling-kindle-book-sales-surge
Recent sales figures for ebooks and print books need to be taken with a pinch of salt. Deciding that ereading devices are on the way out, on just nine months of sales figures for print books that grew by almost 5% is foolish.
Part of the problem with ebook pricing has been the greed of some well-established traditional publishers, who insisted on their digital downloads being as expensive, if not more, than a print book. I'm not saying that ebooks should be priced so low that the author cannot make a living, but there has to be a sensible compromise.
There's perceived value to take into account, which takes on a peculiar twist with modern technology. It's hard to feel love for a digital edition of a paperback, that's stored in a file on your laptop, phone or Kindle, but easy to be fond of a battered hard copy of the book that has been on your shelf in five different homes. Apart from anything else, there's the tactile nature of a physical book to enjoy. Easier to enjoy the illustration on your favourite version of a book cover, wondering lots of things about it, than to stare at a digital representation of it on a shiny screen.
Some old technologies make a resurgence. Just look at how we listen to music. In my lifetime, I recall old 78rpm shellac long-playing records being replaced by vinyl versions. These gave way to cassettes, then CDs, followed by digital music files. MP3 has its advantages, mainly portability, but has been heavily criticised for being antiseptic by removing the richness of the original recording. Neil Young has recently produced a listening device for his own digital music service called Pono, which aims to improve audio quality. I understand his annoyance with what's been allowed to happen to music, but to be honest, my ears can only hear so much.
I sometimes listen to music on cassettes and LPs, and even though my players aren't posh the sounds that they make are more textured than digital versions. There's been a rise in vinyl record stores opening, and some bands are releasing albums in cassette and vinyl formats. Original records and cassettes are highly collectable.
What old technologies have is simplicity. We're frequently advised to KISS, a principle that cuts through the bullshit and gets to the heart of the matter. I remember seeing an electric carving knife for the first time back in the 1960's, admiring its apparent efficiency but wondering at the pointlessness of it too - why complicate a simple job and have to pay extra to do so?
I sense that the backlash against modern technological forms of art has much to do with their being perceived as disposable: mere temporary manifestations of something real that can be destroyed with the click of a mouse. Such is the way with Kindles. If you lost an ereading device, anguish would be caused by its value not because you'd lost fifty books. Print books are more like friends to us.
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/oct/06/waterstones-stop-selling-kindle-book-sales-surge
Recent sales figures for ebooks and print books need to be taken with a pinch of salt. Deciding that ereading devices are on the way out, on just nine months of sales figures for print books that grew by almost 5% is foolish.
Part of the problem with ebook pricing has been the greed of some well-established traditional publishers, who insisted on their digital downloads being as expensive, if not more, than a print book. I'm not saying that ebooks should be priced so low that the author cannot make a living, but there has to be a sensible compromise.
There's perceived value to take into account, which takes on a peculiar twist with modern technology. It's hard to feel love for a digital edition of a paperback, that's stored in a file on your laptop, phone or Kindle, but easy to be fond of a battered hard copy of the book that has been on your shelf in five different homes. Apart from anything else, there's the tactile nature of a physical book to enjoy. Easier to enjoy the illustration on your favourite version of a book cover, wondering lots of things about it, than to stare at a digital representation of it on a shiny screen.
Some old technologies make a resurgence. Just look at how we listen to music. In my lifetime, I recall old 78rpm shellac long-playing records being replaced by vinyl versions. These gave way to cassettes, then CDs, followed by digital music files. MP3 has its advantages, mainly portability, but has been heavily criticised for being antiseptic by removing the richness of the original recording. Neil Young has recently produced a listening device for his own digital music service called Pono, which aims to improve audio quality. I understand his annoyance with what's been allowed to happen to music, but to be honest, my ears can only hear so much.
I sometimes listen to music on cassettes and LPs, and even though my players aren't posh the sounds that they make are more textured than digital versions. There's been a rise in vinyl record stores opening, and some bands are releasing albums in cassette and vinyl formats. Original records and cassettes are highly collectable.
What old technologies have is simplicity. We're frequently advised to KISS, a principle that cuts through the bullshit and gets to the heart of the matter. I remember seeing an electric carving knife for the first time back in the 1960's, admiring its apparent efficiency but wondering at the pointlessness of it too - why complicate a simple job and have to pay extra to do so?
I sense that the backlash against modern technological forms of art has much to do with their being perceived as disposable: mere temporary manifestations of something real that can be destroyed with the click of a mouse. Such is the way with Kindles. If you lost an ereading device, anguish would be caused by its value not because you'd lost fifty books. Print books are more like friends to us.
