Bookish: As form, as social occasion

Well, it seems as though the rains have come in for the winter – judging by the torrential downpour outside my window at the moment – but thank goodness our good weather held through Sunday and Word on the Street which had another successfully packed year with lots of great readers and giveaways (as always). I’m prone to the book-bag treasure hunt myself, always happy to pony up $20 to get a crack at whatever participating booths are giving away. Mostly little stuff, but the occasional good score (a couple good books this year, not to mention lots of magazine/journal back issues), and lots of conversations about books and publishing along the way. Word on the Street is in my top five of annual events in Vancouver – I just find it so pleasing to see that many people come together and get so bibliophilic in one place.

As I was leaving, however, I saw a sign pointing the way to an exhibit that seemed out of place at such an event as WOTS – the SONY display on the “future” of reading and the book. A future, of course, found in handheld readers, unshareable data formats, and pay-as-you-go downloading. A future, which as far as I’m concerned has very little to do with the concept of “book” itself, might more readily be called a datashare than anything else. But then that would involve the world “share” and my biggest problem with amazon, sony and others promoting the so-called “e-book” is that their technologies and formats discourage sharing at all costs. Their products at heart denying all forms of sociability associated with books and book culture.

Try to imagine it – an event like WOTS without actual, physical books there to be perused over, handled, and picked up for discussion. Instead, booths containing screens perhaps where the user would scroll new titles and their descriptions, attuned to the screen rather than the seller. But then again, there wouldn’t be a seller present because the goal of corporations like amazon and sony is to get rid of these pesky booksellers and act as a one-stop distribution mechanism for the printed word, from screen purchase to your reader there is no need to interact with anyone else in the quest for a good read. Which means that at least half of the booths at WOTS would be a wall of computer screens and bolted down handheld readers instead – minimal staff at each, readers at every docking station affixed to screens. But why do that at all since one doesn’t have to leave their home in order to order and download – so lets just get rid of half the booths.

Another big segment of booths are the non-profits – libraries, literacy groups, educational societies. Many of whom would cease to exist if the Kindle or Sony E-book really took hold as an idea. Low literacy is a tendency among poorer folk for example, who may not have access to computers or e-readers. Without libraries (which would also disappear – there is no facility for sharing in the world of e-books) there would be little in the way of easily accessible resources for readers and educators alike – beyond Wikipedia that is. So let’s get rid of those altogether as well. Which leaves us with the tents of writers reading from their recent works – which as Margaret Atwood has proven on more than one occasion – don’t need the actual author in attendance given video screen readings and longpen technology (not e-book related I know, but still…. digital changes galore!).

It strikes me that it’s possible the only booth left after the devastation wrought by the digital steamroller of corporate greed would perhaps be the Alcuin Society which is an organization dedicated to books-as-form in the present and the past (I had a fabulous and extended conversation about book design at their booth this year, and am committed to joining this year in order to get their beautifully designed and interesting journal Amphora) – which is not much of a Word on the Street event, not much of a buzz, not much of an interactive crowd-pleaser.

Now, I’ve read lots of critical reviews on the Kindle and E-book revolution in the past few months, and while many of them give passing reference libraries and how this would impact them – it seems to be an afterthought these days. The assumption by middle class writers that most people would rather buy books than borrow them (one article claimed many people didn’t want to read library books because of the possibility of germs). But go into a well-serviced local library and this assumption is immediately put to rest. The downtown branch of the Vancouver Public Library being a case in point – a gorgeous building with mixed-use of space – it is busy from the moment it opens until the end of the day when it closes its doors. Even the small library in my neighbourhood with its limited selection of materials (and mostly in Cantonese), is busy with students and parents and readers in there every day of the week.

And if the passing reference to libraries isn’t bad enough, I haven’t read a single article that explores in-depth the social world of the book or the history of books as shared past-time and sometimes revolutionary act. Because as much as we choose to forget , books have frequently been a catalyst for bringing people together to exchange ideas and insights, to share grievances and radical plots. It’s hard to imagine the Communist Manifesto being passed around via E-Book, and even though the Internet gives us this great distribution mechanism for ideas of all kinds, it is ultimately subject to corporate and government controls. Turning it off in a time of revolutionary foment is as easy as turning off a tap, though we hate to admit our radical new communication system is that easily controlled.

But it’s like many things I suppose, patterns of atomized consumption and a fear of H1N1 keep us lockstep, away from our neighbours, and under control. Not for any nefarious purpose of course, but for the stable maintenance of docile consumers living in an increasingly homogenized world. The e-book misses the point if you ask me. Content may be only half of what it’s about – form and interaction making up other intrinsic points by which we enjoy reading and literate culture. It’s that which I refuse to give up, wish to lay claim to. And am so glad I wasn’t raised in the post-ebook world.