What’s challenging for authors at this point is the iPad enables so many different types of expression that it’s literally overwhelming. Once you start thinking of your book as an app you run into all kinds of bizarre questions. Like, do I need to have all of my book accessible at any given time? Why not make it like a game so that in order to get to the next ‘chapter’ you need to pass a test? Does the content of the book even need to be created entirely by me? Can I leave some parts of it open to edit by those who buy it and read it? Do I need to charge $9.99, or can I charge $99.99? Start thinking about how each and everyone one of the iPad’s features can be a tool for an author to more lucidly express whatever it is they want to express and you’ll see that reading isn’t ‘dead’, it’s just getting more sophisticated.
The above quote was taken from a blog post by Cody Brown called “Dear Authors, Your Next Book Should Be an App, Not an iBook.”
To me, the main takeaway from Brown’s post and the above-quoted paragraph in particular is that the publishing industry isn’t even close to grasping the monumental paradigm shift occasioned by the iPad. It’s often said that digital content delivery is an innovation on par with Gutenberg’s invention of the printing press—but thus far there aren’t a whole lot of writers, readers, or publishers out there who are acting like that’s true.
If we’ve perceived a paradigm shift at all, it’s primarily a shift in distribution—devices like the iPad are generally viewed, in my opinion, as new delivery systems for objects that are old: that is, books. The Kindle and iBooks are judged on their ability to mimic the look and feel of a printed book, and behind all the arguments over pricing models is a concern about how the ebook market will affect the traditional book market. Meanwhile, there don’t seem to be a whole lot of people thinking about how devices like the iPad can change not just the delivery of books, but the form of the books being delivered themselves—or change our notion of what a book is entirely.
I’m not excited about this, exactly. I’m not that much older than Cody, but the possibilities he writes about scare me a little. See, I like novels. I’d be fine if they stayed just the way they are. I like the occasional literary experiment from time to time, but for the most part I do my reading—and writing—linearly, starting at the first page and reading every word, in order, until I get to the last page. If the changes Cody talks about are coming, and if I want to stay in this publishing game, I’m going to have to learn some new skills.
But if we are experiencing a paradigm shift akin to that occasioned by the Gutenberg press, then to a certain extent it’s inevitable. The printing press was not just a new way to deliver old content—rather, the technology of the press and of the book itself changed the nature of what was being communicated, and changed readers’ relationship with what they were reading. Old literary forms died off, and new ones, the novel in particular, were born. It’s going to happen again. There’s probably nothing we can do to stop it. And it will probably happen in a way that none of us expect.
One more thing: a few months ago, on On The Media’s annual book episode, a book historian was quoted as saying that it wasn’t until 50 years after the Gutenberg press that page numbers first began appearing in book pages. 50 years. Whatever’s coming, it’s probably going to take a while. It’s way too early to make predictions.
You’ve managed to address questions of mine that were popping up within the first few lines of the post. Primarily: Is it too much to expect/hope that it would be ideas that direct the format/technology rather than the technology that shapes the ideas? The paragraph you quote makes it sound like authors should make their ideas work with the new mediums/formats simply because they exist. I suppose this sounds nice from a marketing standpoint, but not if you still care to take in and appreciate writing and literature as an art form that is concerned with expressing something that lasts. I’m not saying these new technologies cannot effectively accomplish this, but writers will need to find ways for the new medium(s) to facilitate that which is essential to their art rather than catering their art to the new mediums. Otherwise you end up with the equivalent of a band that adds a fancy new instrument to their lineup just because it is fancy and new, but not because it makes the music better. And the goal should always be better music.
You’re right–the content/message and the preferences of the author should and probably will always take precedence. But don’t underestimate the way that technology changes the way even artists think about what’s possible in art and how they’d like to express their message. Before the printing press, oral literary forms, hand-drawn illuminated manuscripts, and coterie forms like the sonnet cycle were widespread–now, they’ve basically disappeared, and long forms like the novel dominate. Is it because these forms were no longer interesting to artists, or did the technology of the mass-produced book lead the way in changing their thinking about what was possible? And will it happen again? I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.
Another form that disappeared is that everyone used to read out loud. So when you would go to a ‘library’ all you would hear is the murmuring of everyone reading (so much for ‘sussshh’). One of the ‘Saints’ was the first to read silently and everyone thought he was ‘gifted’, cursed or blessed, depending on your dogma. Queen Elizabeth was also a silent reader…her father, Henry the VIII was not a silent reader…or so it is said….