What is a book? This simple question is bugging me. It has become a philosophical enigma. Let me explain.
I now read books only on electronic devices (Kindle and iPad). I still have a library of over a thousand paper books, none of which I open. Indeed, I only browse my shelves to pick a few books to lend or give a friend or, recently, to weed out several hundred which I donated to the St John branch of the public library.
Several hundred more are destined for rejection and ejection as I thin out my haphazard collection to what I think is a reasonably valuable must-read to pass on to our son.
My abandonment of the paper book for the e-book has caused consternation among friends of my age. It’s as if I had left my wife of 40 odd (very odd) years for a glitzy girl of 18. Apart from being grossly indecent, surely it’s a sign of end-of-life crisis, senility or sheer lunacy?
I try to explain that once you have experienced the joy of being able to decide what size font you want to read, it’s hard to read a paper book in the miniscule fonts in which most are printed. My eyes are old.
But, they say, surely you miss the feel and scent of printed paper? Surely that cold metallic/plastic electronic facsimile of reality can’t satisfy a sensualist like you?
They assume I like books as physical objects. And this is what has led me to question what a book is.
I am not a bibliophile. I have no interest in first editions or rare books. Yet, I’ve been a slave to books all my life. I acquired the reputation of a “bookworm” as a child. My mother would have to literally drag the book out of my hands to get me to eat.
Why? Simple. Books took me out of a reality in which I felt ill at ease into a magic world of fantasy. A book was a means to an end, never an end in itself.
I’m still ill at ease in this world, and, though I’m now reconciled to that failing, I keep seeking escape into fantasy. Right now my fantasy book worlds are philosophy, theology and Shakespeare.
A book is not a papyrus or printed paper or an electronic device. These are media. It’s a mental form of communication between author and readers. The e-book makes that communication easier. You can embed all kinds of links, including dictionaries, in an e-book. You can have a library of several thousand e-books on a flash drive no bigger than your finger. What’s not to like about that?
Furthermore, Amazon allows you to self-publish your own e-book for free. You format the book according to their guidelines, upload it and set your price. Of course, they only list and sell the book, not edit or promote it. That’s your responsibility.
I’ve just uploaded an e-book (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AMNRVWA) of my humorous columns over the past decade, covering everything from Bajan directions to poking fun at my wife and brother (Hmm . . . how can I promote it?)
Incidentally, I have an eclectic collection of over 600 e-books in pdf format on my computer. They’re yours for free. That’s the beauty of e-books: you give them away and still have them.
As I limp stoically towards death, that elusive panacea for all that ails us, I ought by rights to be an old fogey. Yet I find myself exhilarated by the digital technology that is shattering our world.
This digital revolution is radically changing how we live, play and work and govern ourselves. A whole analogue way of life is vanishing. Some of us react with horror: but, as the Italian thinker Gramsci noted, the struggle for a new world to be born while the old is dying gives rise to many morbid symptoms.
But the potential is huge.
I’ve never been more optimistic about human prospects.
• Peter Laurie is a retired diplomat and commentator on social issues.
