You are how you read

On my bedside table, jostling with a red skull paperweight and a vintage alarm clock, is a tower of books. It’s quite an eclectic stack — mostly nonfiction, from the Duke of Windsor’s memoirs to Simon Schama’s

Rough Crossings

— and I try to plow through a few pages on nights when

Arena Homme Plus

and

The Fader

aren’t satisfying enough.

Like their cousins that occupy another corner of my humble apartment, these glossy hardbacks are my pride and joy, accumulated over time from sources near and far. It began, at first, as a case of studied dishevelment, a ruse to lead visitors into thinking that I was more worldly, well-rounded and well-read than I really was. But as my library grew, each colorful spine began to symbolize a particular moment in my life. I tend to remember the where, when and how of practically every item I own, and that includes my books. I can’t imagine not being surrounded by these hardcover beauties, which makes the concept of ebooks somewhat intriguing.

A ‘Kindle Summer’

In February, the Association of American Publishers reported that digital books overtook paperbacks in terms of sales for the first time ever. Amazon has reached the same milestone: The online retailer announced that since April, customers “are now choosing Kindle books more often than print books,” according to CEO Jeff Bezos. That’s 105 ebooks for every 100 paperbacks sold. Whether it’s the number of bibliophiles buying titles for the northern summer or the influx of tablet and ebook readers in recent years, the figures are pretty impressive. And where the Americans go, the rest of the world usually follows.  

Still, I’m not sure whether I should embrace the new format. The reasons may be tired, but that doesn’t make them any less true. As a purist, I want to be able to sniff a book, feel its hand-cut acid-free pages and personalize it with bookplates. I would also like to be free to jump back and forth across chapters and reread passages as necessary, a task that becomes somewhat tedious with devices such as the Kindle. And what about book signings? I don’t know about you, but I’d think twice about letting a stranger autograph my iPad.

Then again, ebooks are doing so well because once they’re stored in your gadget, the convenience and portability can’t be beat. Now a bookworm can take a Nook stocked with a thousand titles to a beach holiday instead of cramming a suitcase with tatty paperbacks or something to read just in case. Then there’s the instant gratification. After a few clicks of the mouse, an ebook can be yours to enjoy. 

Not A Luddite

I stopped buying CDs and DVDs six years ago and I have absolutely no qualms about downloading music, movies and TV shows — I would download a car if I could — but I’m on the fence about doing the same for books. While I’m not a Luddite, I write and edit for a living; there’s a part of me — the romantic side that dwells in a treehouse, quotes Bukowski and wears a Native American headdress — that isn’t too wild about hastening the demise of an entire industry. 

That said, I also know that things have a way of working themselves out. There’s the option for writers to digitally self-publish their work, cut publishers out of the loop and take all the credit, not to mention the profit. Of course, this would only work for authors that are already brands. JK Rowling, for example, is set to sell Harry Potter ebooks exclusively through her Pottermore website, a move that should pad the savvy British author’s bank account with significant sums. Struggling wordsmiths, on the other hand, will probably be rewarded with enough for a couple Stellas and a falafel.

Specialist Culture

The growing popularity of ebooks is but the latest sign that the future is cheap and electronic. Though the format will most likely be another option for reading — not the only avenue — alongside traditional print books, it has already opened the Pandora’s Box called piracy. As our culture becomes more digital, authors, publishers and bookstore owners must become less disposable.

Among those I see surviving in this changing environment are specialist publishers such as London’s Folio Society, which sells exquisitely illustrated and handcrafted books to members; and Brooklyn’s Melville House, whose Neversink Library resurrects dormant titles by obscure authors and reissues them with striking cover art — the opposite of cheap romance or vampire novels. Assouline and Taschen, purveyors of premium art and architecture books, should also find their rightful place in this new order.

 With the way things are going, there’s a huge chance that printed books, doomed to go the way of vinyl, may become totally obsolete a generation from now. As I imagine this scenario, I couldn’t help but think about the hardcover books I’ve painstakingly curated. They may be endangered, but that makes them all the more precious and covetable.

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