• Aeschylus only survives in 10 percent of his seventy known works. The rest are now lost. Another playwright, Sophocles, only survives into the twenty-first century with 5 percent of his works.
• Only half of Euclid’s math books survive. Perhaps one of the missing books was an early work of calculus? If it had been more widely circulated in its day, maybe we’d have had computers by the Middle Ages and Greek colonies on the moon by now.
• Julius Caesar not only had time to defeat the French and become Rome’s first emperor, but he also wrote fifteen books, of which only a third now survive.
• The Old Testament used to be much larger, with 46 percent of it now missing. As many as twenty-one lost books are referenced in the Bible (such as the Acts of Solomon and the Book of the Wars of the Lord). There are probably more that we don’t even know about because the Bible never mentions them.
• Shakespeare fared better, with 93 percent of his works surviving, but even living as he did in the age of the printing press, at least three of his plays are lost, perhaps for good.
This same kind of blight can affect us with ebooks. If you take the long view of history and agree that wars and economic collapses and the redrawing of nations’ lines will continue to happen, and that technologies will continue to shift, then it’s inevitable that some of our ebooks will also one day become lost. But now, the magnitude for loss is much greater.
If a company like Google or Apple goes under, they might take all their books with them. It takes a lot to power a cloud, to keep all these ebooks humming in their hives. So in a large-scale book blight, there’s as much chance that my aunt’s book about her favorite cat will be preserved for posterity as that a book by J.K. Rowling might be. In fact, I would argue that an author’s best strategy is to avoid making her works exclusive to any one retailer, that it’s best to put your eggs in multiple baskets.
We can’t read the future, but the opportunity for a wholesale book blight through negligence or gradual decay or decline in entertainment habits is greater now than ever before. Even if it’s not caused by bookworms.
There are steps we could take to safeguard all our books from blight, of course. Libraries already excel in this respect, and as long as libraries continue to hold on to their own content and do not rely on the vaults of retailers, they can continue to help. In fact, there’s an initiative called the Digital Public Library of America (DPLA) that aims to do this.
Led by a Harvard librarian, the DPLA aims to compete in a way with the Google Book project. Millions of volumes will still be digitized, but the libraries will be in charge, and independent readers worldwide can freely access digital holdings on their smartphones or computers. The DPLA is still in its early years, but its efforts—as well as those of similar projects, such as the World Digital Library project funded by the U.S. Library of Congress and UNESCO—may be the safeguards we need.
Librarians are unlikely heroes. Who would have thought that librarians would come to our culture’s rescue, averting disaster and a literary bookocalypse?
That said, sadly, there isn’t a single library from classical antiquity that has survived. I mention the top three such libraries in a later chapter, but there were other, smaller ones. They were all destroyed, with the possible exception of the personal library of Julius Caesar’s father-in-law—and that only “survived” because it was buried under a hundred feet of hardened lava from an erupting volcano. About 1,800 scrolls “survive” in carbonized form. (Think of Han Solo frozen into a black block in Star Wars, or think of leaving a book at the site of an atom bomb explosion.) These scrolls aren’t being read anytime soon.
We face the same problem of long-term survival with digitization efforts. Even if a book is digitized, will its file format survive? Will hardware even exist that can read it one day, centuries from now? Will the old Kindle or Nook in your desk drawer somehow survive the eons intact and surface again as a kind of Rosetta Stone that can be used to finally read and decipher troves of ebooks? Am I being too pessimistic in my worries for the future, or do you think we’re not collectively worried enough about book blight?
The Future of E-Reader Hardware: Pico Projectors?
No doubt by now you’ve heard of Amazon’s Microbook. It launched a few months ago, and being an early adopter, I was one of the first to buy it, try it out, and write a review.
The company describes the device in their promotional material as follows:
“The Microbook: An e-reader combined with a pico projector and connected to your Kindle account. No power cables. No hassles. No buttons.”
The Microbook is very cheap because it has no screen and no moving parts.
It ships from Amazon’s Japan offices, along with a little robot toy, although I’m not sure why. I can’t read the instructions, but that’s okay. As with any consumer electronics project, I shouldn’t have to. It should just work.
All the Microbook needs is a network connection. My home’s Wi-Fi worked just fine.
Because it was registered to me when I bought it, the Microbook knows who I am and what I’m currently reading. To read, all I need is a blank surface, like a wall or a table. So when I first turn the Microbook on and aim it at the wall, it shows the same page from the same book I’m currently reading on my Kindle.
There are no buttons, but it responds to voice control. “Turn the page,” I say, and the image projected onto the wall changes to the next page. I can also tell it, “Go to the store,” if I want to shop for ebooks.
Privacy is a bit of a problem, but I can read my books on the subway.
You can buy Microbook accessories, like a tripod for hands-free reading or a book with blank pages. This way you can pretend you’re reading a print book.
What I like about it is that I can project the Microbook onto the ceiling at night when I read. It doesn’t get too hot in my hands. And when I turn the Microbook off at night, the Japanese robot lights up its scary eyes.
There is no Microbook, of course. Not yet, anyway. I’m not aware of Amazon or any other retailer with plans for building such a device, but this is one of the ways I myself see the nature of e-readers changing.
When we hold a book or comic or magazine or even an e-reader in our hands, it’s usually a flat object that is taller than it is wide. Most of the surface area is taken up with reading, with the content. But I think this is unnecessary. It’s a waste of electricity to power such a large screen, and the objects are bulky. Besides, who wants to accidentally drop and crack an expensive iPad? I see a future when books can be projected with pico projectors onto walls, tables, and other surfaces.
There are great benefits to be found here. By projecting an ebook onto a surface, you’re not constrained to a fixed size for the reading experience. The screen area could be as big or small as you prefer. Currently, you have to pay a premium for a larger device, whether it’s an iPad over an iPad Mini or a Kindle DX over a regular Kindle.
Another benefit would be that your e-reader is very small and also cheaper, since most of what’s involved in e-readers, in terms of hardware, is related to the screen. In fact, the screen itself is often the most expensive component of a dedicated e-reader, sometimes accounting for as much as half of the price. Get rid of the screen, and you can make a very small, very cheap device. Something perhaps the size of your thumbnail or a USB flash drive. All it would need is a network connection and a small pico projector.