Is Our Relationship to Books Changing?

That's the question recently posed by the BBC.

From the fascinating piece...

It seems that almost two thirds of us did not visit a public library last year. The culture minister has suggested that numbers of book borrowers might be higher if libraries were moved from purpose-built locations staffed by qualified librarians to supermarkets and public houses, manned by volunteers. Book borrowers are understandably alarmed.

Not that the prospect is necessarily quite as grim as some might think. I am old enough dimly to remember taking my parents' library card into Boots the Chemist, which ran a popular lending library when I was a child (there was a small charge for membership).

In fact, I can remember an occasion when I stood for some time at the counter while two assistants whispered together to decide whether the large tome with a picture of two bosomy ladies of the 16th Century French court, in low-cut dresses, on the cover, was suitable for a child to borrow.

And passing through Paris at the end of August, I stood watching drinkers and readers rubbing shoulders in La Belle Hortense - an obviously extremely popular bar in the Marais district, whose shop-front advertises it to be a combined cafe, bar and bookshop.

The sign in the window says you are welcome to read the books in stock while you drink, with no obligation to purchase. If public libraries fall victim to this autumn's government austerity measures, as some are warning, perhaps we will have to reconsider these other kinds of model for bringing books to readers.

Another fascinating piece about the ways books and reading is changing, is in Wired.

From that piece...

I think it’s pretty clear that the future of books is digital. I’m sure we’ll always have deckle-edge hardcovers and mass market paperbacks, but I imagine the physical version of books will soon assume a cultural place analogous to that of FM radio. Although the radio is always there (and isn’t that nice?), I really only use it when I’m stuck in a rental car and forgot my auxilliary input cord. The rest of the time I’m relying on shuffle and podcasts.

I love books deeply. I won’t bore you with descriptions of my love other than to say that, when I moved back from England, I packed 9 pounds of clothes and 45 pounds of books in one of my checked bags. (I have a weakness for British covers.) And when my luggage was over the fifty pound airline limit, I started chucking T-shirts.

So I’m nervous about the rise of the Kindle and the Nook and the iBookstore. The book, after all, is a time-tested technology. We know that it can endure, and that the information we encode in volutes of ink on pulped trees can last for centuries. That’s why we still have Shakespeare Folios and why I can buy a 150 year old book on Alibris for 99 cents. There are so many old books!

And yet, I also recognize the astonishing potential of digital texts and e-readers. For me, the most salient fact is this: It’s never been easier to buy books, read books, or read about books you might want to buy. How can that not be good?