Within my own lifetime, from the late 1950s until now, I have witnessed the gradual demise of the conventional hard-copy book as a central focus of one’s evening time after a hard day of work and making a living. It did not come all at once, but in small doses and dribbles over the decades. First it was the Silver Age of black and white TV, and the weekly visits to the local or city library had to compete increasingly with prime-time shows: weekly sit-coms, “The Twilight Zone,” hourly serials, weekly variety shows, and many of the latest movies from the box office, as well as the often repeated “classic” filmographies.
I learned to read with writing and drawing pictures at school, watched Gemini and Apollo space launches, cut my teeth on an early Dr. Seuss monthly subscription, and then there was “Where the Wild Things Are,” by Maurice Sendak. The Sear’s Catalog, “National Geographic,” and Jacques Cousteau were daily and weekly affairs until my mom could afford our first and last set of “World Book” Encyclopedias, which became my mainstay reference source through elementary school even into High School. I remember I read a lot in and out of school during those years. Reading interesting books and magazines opened up the world for me in a way nothing else seemed possible to do short of first-hand experience, even if my world seemed basically a solitary one.
Our first color television did not come until high school and our move to a better (middle-class) neighborhood. Local bookstores still abounded within a short driving distance from my home. Nice new books could still be bought on a monthly basis with the leftovers of my small allowance and pocket-money earned from doing yard-work for different people. My time in the USMC in the second half of the 70s interrupted my literacy development, not all for the worse, for after a couple of years I came to depend upon and frequent the base library, and by the final year I began penning my first manuscript.
Computers were for myself at least still rather primitive machines, more a thing of the imaginary future than of any recent immediate experience. Recording devices still included phonograph records of various sizes, 8-track tapes and small one hour cassette tapes that frequently lost their thin ribbons. My first computer experience was composing instructions in MS DOS on a computing system in the computer lab on campus in the early 80s. It was a line printer print-out of a nutritional experiment and my diet.
By the early 80s it became a major luxury acquisition for all the kids (now adult) to get together and pitch in cash to buy a large microwave oven for our mom on Mother’s day. This was an immediate labor and energy saver—cooking over the stove or by the oven soon became a less and less frequent preoccupation. I still had a manual typewriter and then an electric typewriter for my first few years through all of the 80s, and I relied heavily upon local stationary and copy shops to do the manuscript printing of my first texts. By 1990 and the acquisition of my first Mac Classic computer, I had had almost 10 different electric typewriters with increasingly advanced memory functions, but nothing could match my first word processing program on my Mac with all of 35 megabytes of storage.
During this decade, inter-library loan from the university or county libraries were my main source of information. Weekly and monthly News Magazines—like “Newsweek,” “Time,” “Life,” and “Look,”—popular periodicals common to me as a store-front window display for graphic, nitty-gritty information about the larger world (Vietnam, campus protests, assassinations, scandals, elections, the Olympics, etc.) which along with the evening News broadcast on Television, were major sources of information and influence that became increasingly displaced, gradually in the background, and at the time quite unbeknownst to myself, to something eventually to be called the “Internet” and the “World Wide Web.”
The decade of the 90s represented the giving up of my typewriters and the creation of little floppy disk files for most of my texts and writing. Most research at the time was still primarily by letter and interview—resources through the Internet were at the time insufficient for the level of textual work I had then been doing. Card Catalogs were disappearing from central position in libraries, but information on micro-fiche and micro-film could still be utilized from special collections and storage. I remember I came to fruition with 35 millimeter photography and VHS videography, but by the late 90s this forms of recording were being replaced with increasingly sophisticated digital visual recording devices.
By the 2000s I made the mistake of thinking I could establish my own publishing primarily on-line through the Internet and a website, which is this “Lewis Micropublishing.com” platform, but I was naive, penniless and un-business minded in my efforts. What since the first decade of the 21st Century has taught me more than anything is the increasing rapidity of change and technological innovation and invention, and the increasingly rapid replacement of “old technology” for new.
Now, almost a quarter century later, I see previously unimagined knowledge-information revolutions in genetic information analysis and collection, and in the application of highly advanced artificial intelligence applications and systems. I no longer need to write my own rejection letters and I can go fully to my own self-publishing of “shake and bake” book of minimally sufficient quality and global visibility to no longer waste my time with conventional publishing houses.
By 2010, we got rid of our 32 inch Samsung tube TV for our first Flat Screen. I was then volunteering weekly with our local city “Friends of the Library” and my main job sorting incoming books for sale or for recycling was largely focused on weekly trips to the couple of dumpsters in the back of the library with two shopping cards full of old “World Book” Encyclopedias and other book sets not likely to sell in the bookstore. The shelf-space of sellable books was more important than the many tons of Encyclopedias and “National Geographic” magazines and old phonograph records thus sent to the burn-pits.
Now I live in a world of some strange existential paradox for my own lonely self. I remain a book collector but not a dealer. I cannot escape the compulsions of my own biblio-philia that has been the main by-product of my lifetime. It is weird to me that at the final mile of my life-time I’ve come full circle in may ways, and that I can now fully publish almost all of my life’s work in writing but that this work will be buried almost infinitely deep by a vast morphing “The Thing” Internet to be read by almost no one in the world even with worldwide instantaneous connectivity. I have gone to this “bloggishing” to produce digestible segments of writing that, in this particular case, has already grown a couple of paragraphs too long to be bothered by our “text minded” new audience.
Now we reach ever so shallowly into our own singularly deep future, I am finding advanced A.I. able to create instantly new texts that I would struggle weeks or even months on my old typewriters. I am, in retrospect, somewhat glad for my advancing age and my biblio-philia. I am increasingly sad though for the demise of the central position of the hard-copy book and conventional publication methods during the final phases of my own life on earth. I have no way of knowing now for certain, in a hard factual manner, whether the next cheap version of a book I buy on-line now will be either produced by an intelligent seeming robot, a real person, or is just another bungled editing job with instant, print-on demand, all-in-one publishing.
Nowadays I can no longer read almost any but very large print without a pair of glasses. I keep reading glasses distributed all over my bookshelves, and not being able to find a convenient pair becomes a major frustration. I do not now care so much that I’m personally leaving a much better world behind where once upon a time books on a conspicuous shelf were a common household treasure, rather than a fancy “entertainment system” stuck on a wall. I do care very much for the kind of non-book world my grandchildren will be inheriting, glued as they are to you-tube, wireless, digital phones, and sophisticated game consoles. It seems to be a world where no one really knows any longer for certain quite what they are really getting for their buck.
Books, like vinyl records, old Mac Classics and typewriters, will continue on a limited scale in an unlimited world as a niche in collector’s markets (and some things will be very collectible while most things will be common and not worth the price of on-line used books.) In the long run human descendants will unearth the by-products of our civilization in the age of the late Anthropocene. The artifacts and upper stratigraphic layers will consist of many kinds of non-biodegradable plastic. My world my have lost its relevance and meaning before its end, and that was but a few short decades ago, but at least I can promise in good faith that this essay was not produced by a modern artificial intelligence application.
In short summary, it seems as if the demise of conventional literacy as a diagonalized form of cultural transmission of information is signaled by the final passing of the last generation of humans who were born and raised before the advent of the Internet and digital information systems. Never again in the history of humankind will the hard-bound book be the centerpiece and fulcrum of our human-made world. Future post-digital generations will know and accept as natural and given increasingly and near-totally horizontalized forms of cultural transmission, and hence, kinds and degrees of change in the world that perhaps humankind in the long run was not evolutionarily developed to cope with—perhaps at the end of the Anthropocene Era a new kind of Homo sapiens digital will arise as the dominant subspecies.