More On Books And Technology

Margaret Atwood presentation (with much humour) via the fascinating C'est la vie:



And . . . just for fun (via my lovely cousin-in-law:

Review: Bound To Last

I wasn't sure what to expect from this book of personal essays about books when I began reading it . . . other than a great deal of writing about the love of books in their physical, tangible form. But what I found within the pages was so much better than I could have expected.


Bound To Last: 30 Writers On Their Most Cherished Book. The title gives away the agenda: a book promoting the lasting value of the non-ebook.  And it's well worth the read for those of us who love either a well-turned sentence or a book about the love of books.  Each author in the collection muses about a book that mattered to him/her. A book that shattered their known world or transformed their sense of self, a book that became more than an object, but was, because of the object, more dear, a book that (whether from childhood or not) became part of the identity of each author.  So, of course, it's a fascinating read on so many levels.

Favourite sections from the 30? Well, there's Danielle Trussoni's notion that physical books retain something of us on the pages we read:  "I wonder if I should replace the paperback with a newer copy, perhaps try to find a first edition or at least a hardbound copy that might withstand the hardships I impose upon it. But a clean copy of Speak, Memory wouldn't be at all the same. It would be free of my presence, too clear of the traces I have left upon each page.  It would be as if the years of carrying Speak, Memory with me had not occurred at all."


And this (from the Anthony Doerr section):  "We are all mapmakers: We embed our memories everywhere, inscribing a private and intensely complicated latticework across the landscape." He goes on to write that "through stories we manage to live in multiple places, lead multiple lives. Through stories we rehearse empathy; through stories we live the emotional lives of other people . . . We fall, we drift, we lose ourselves in other selves."


Or this from Philipp Meyer:  "Books, in the end, are such an advanced technology that we have begun to take them for granted. They are cheap, superhumanly durable, they can be passed on for generations. They outlast cars, pets, and homes."  Earlier in his essay, he'd pointed out how browsing through his parents' piles of books occasioned reads he otherwise wouldn't have embarked upon. And that this experience would not have happened with a parent's ereader.  (Probably the best, most persuasive essay in the group).


As someone who owns and uses an ereader but still prefers the printed and bound word, I've been mostly disinterested in the debate about whether or not books are being threatened by the onslaught of ereaders.  For me it's obvious.  The book as object will endure because people  will continue to buy them. Or they won't.  Either the book is technologically superior or it isn't. I think it is, thus I think the book will last. Oversimplifying? Probably, but, not being in charge of any publishing businesses, I can only speak as a consumer. And speaking as a consumer means I have to put my money where my mouth is . . . if I want books to last, I have to buy them (especially new ones, and at least as many from small publishers as from the bigger names). So that's what I'm doing . . . slowly, and as I can.  It's not difficult, really. Any excuse to buy a good book is a good excuse.


* Many thanks to the nice people at Da Capo Press for sending along a review copy and giving me the chance to read a book I might otherwise have overlooked.

Snow, Rain, Sunshine: February

While filtered sunlight decorates (with the help of the curtains) the walls and floors of our somewhat toasty house, I'm still shivering from the weekend.  On a blustery, chill-infested Saturday evening of rainy snow and snowy rain, Mr. Inkslinger and I braved the icy puddles and took a sojourn to ye locale bookshoppe.  And books were had by all.  (pardon the grainy photos, the camera is on the fritz . .  . I have to go Google 'on the fritz' . . . where does this phrase come from? Update: Google singularly unhelpful. Still in the dark.)


The recent acquisitions (from shop and mail):

1. The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson (Lisbeth Salander!!! Need I say more?)

2. My very own copy of The Green Knight by Iris Murdoch

3. A Shilling for Candles by Josephine Tey (it's just about time for more Tey!)

4. Cop Killer by Per Wahloo and Maj Sjowall 

5. The Dogs of Riga by Henning Mankell (Mr. Inkslinger is continuing to expand his Scandinavian crime novel exposure)

6. Grillhouse Gastropub At Home by Ross Dobson (A yummy-looking recipe tome purchased by an enthusiastic Mr. Inkslinger)

and I am so excited about this next one . . . (forgive my geeky paper-doll-loving squeal of childish glee):

Emily Winfield Martin's paper doll primer!! The Black Apple's Paper Doll Primer has been on my list of must-haves since I heard it was being published. 

I am, admittedly, something of a paper doll admirer in general (like books, they were a technology that seldom failed in my childhood and, as an adult, they are fun to collect), but these are particularly charming and quirky. Very Black Apple.

The Mankell is a co-purchase by Mr. Inkslinger and yours truly.  We loved what we managed to catch of the Wallander series on PBS (must pick up those DVDs!) and wanted to give the novels a go.  Blame it all on Branagh and/or Larsson.

"To love someone else enough to forget about yourself even for one moment is to be free." Jeanette Winterson, The Passion.

"People lending books" and Piracy

Came across this via Biblibio's interesting post:




And, further, I believe the reason this approach doesn't seem to work as well for music sales is the general lowering of quality.  Unlike books, a lot of the music one 'borrows' (via YouTube, the radio or by catching MTV or MuchMusic*) is often, in my opinion at least, not worth actually purchasing and adding to one's music collection. One just doesn't need it to be part of a permanent collection. A few repeated listenings and the charm wears off.  The higher quality offerings (of whichever genre or style) are going to end up being purchased because listeners, like readers, want to support their favourite artists. There is simply less being produced that happens to fit the bill. Just a theory though. (And, of course, there's also the additional complication of the average age of those in the target market).  


* Side note: if MTV or MuchMusic actually have music on when you catch them, that is.

Reading Henry James, loving his convoluted prose:

The vast, square, clean apartment was empty, and its large clear windows looked out into spaces of terrace and garden, of park and woodland and shining artificial lake, or richly condensed horizon, all dark blue upland and church-towered village and strong cloud-shadow, which were, together, a thing to create the sense, with everyone else at church, of one's having the world to one's self.   (from The Golden Bowl)

Would there have been a James Joyce without a Henry James? But the real question is: since we already had a James, did we really need a Joyce?

While the snow swirls its wildcat flakes around the window, I'm comfortably ensconced in a warm office . . . listening to the hum of a working computer (bless it!) and trying to read my own handwriting (scribbling notes for novel-writing late at night does not always make for a productive day . . . most of my writing time today seemed to disappear while I was squinting over them).  Perhaps redrafting from scribbly notes will make for an even better passage? Yes, I'll go with that theory.


On the reading front, there has been a change of weather regarding The Final Act of Mr. Shakespeare by Robert Winder. What promised to be a sunny bit of quasi-blissful prose was undeniably rained out by an increasingly weak plot (which meandered away from the point in what may have been an attempt to build suspense, but when the reveal arrived it just felt anticlimactic). Ultimately, the writing (though good) was not enough to sustain belief that it was at all Shakespearean.  I will now move on to the next read in the leaning tower of tbrs.  


And I'm currently looking forward to this (especially after having read Walt Whitman's Secret!):