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Digital Books Versus Paper Books: A Blog by Warren Bull
I like the heft, the appearance, and the experience of physical books. However, in this blog, I address less nostalgic and more practical issues that occur along with the real benefits of digitalization.
https://thewalrus.ca/how-digital-archives-delete-the-human-experience/
The idea of seamless, simple, and cost-free access to information has been the dream of librarians, researchers, and curious minds since people began preserving human knowledge in central places. And now, in many ways, that collective goal of civilization has pretty much arrived. Thanks to more than half a century of computer technology, the seeming limitlessness of the internet, and the constant increase in data-storage capabilities with remote access (cloud computing), it seems we can not only preserve an infinite number of things but also preserve them for infinity. This ability goes beyond precious and historically important works to the everyday personal bits and bytes of our lives: notes, emails, and family photographs live on a series of anonymous server racks, in an air-conditioned warehouse, in whatever mystery location Dropbox and Google have chosen to domicile them.
But, in fact, digital storage is fallible. Every computer and hard drive can be remotely hacked, infected with destructive viruses, erased by electrical surges, or just fail for reasons that cannot be remedied.
While this digital preservation seems assured, and ridiculously cheap, it comes at an unseen cost in effort, in energy, and in dollars. It also comes at a cost in privacy. The relationship we have to the information that institutions such as libraries care for on our behalf is one we take for granted, but it is more tenuous than we realize. And as we push to preserve, we stand to lose the intimate connection that lies at the heart of research.
Digital preservation is a moving goalpost. The language of binary code may remain static, but the formats we use to store that code are constantly changing, and the pace of change accelerates faster each year.
Digital archives require vigilant maintenance and migration to new formats and standards. Other libraries have faced similar problems. Last April, an article in IEEE Spectrum, a magazine published by the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, detailed how the loss rates of film archives are increasing quickly, and the technology needed to save the film can’t keep up. It has been estimated that the format chosen to store films, linear tape-open (think big digital videotape reels), needs to be replaced by a new tech generation every seven years, on average. Similarly, research suggests that non-digital videotapes aren’t expected to survive the next twenty years, leading to a crisis of preservation for anything stored in that format. Data on floppy disks, magnetic reels of tape, old hard drives, and flash drives are vastly more fragile than a book bound six centuries ago.
And while there are ongoing costs with a library, of course, for staffing, utilities, and the materials used to preserve collections, digital storage is a service that requires daily feeding of dollars to stay alive. Those dollars are neither infinite nor without their prejudice. Unless a library owns and operates its own servers and stores all its digital information in computers it owns (a costly effort that requires massive capital upkeep), the library’s information is at the whim of for-profit corporations. These companies’ interest in preservation goes as far as their bottom line.
The price of digital processors and computer memory continues to decline, on average, but that of digital storage for archiving purposes may not. In a 2012 paper, Stanford digital preservationist David Rosenthal, along with a panel of experts, raised the alarm that long-term digital cloud storage will likely become less economical over time. “Paper as the medium for the world’s memory has one great advantage,” Rosenthal wrote. “[I]t survives benign neglect well. Bits, on the other hand, need continual care, and thus a continual flow of money.”
Then there is the dirty truth of digitization, which is that, in many cases, it can actually aid in the destruction of physical information. To be scanned well, pages need to be flat and free of creases. Fifty years of damage can be caused by opening up a text the wrong way.
Not everything wants to be preserved, or digitized, or shared with the widest possible audience. Sometimes, it is for reasons of fragility and value, but other times, it is that information is best restricted to its analog format.
That may seem archaic and slow, and it is surely less efficient, from a time perspective than a Google search. But it also is a process of discovery that leads the researcher to unexpected and revealing places. It requires more effort but may lead to more learning. It slows down the process of information absorption and encourages a connection between the text, document, and reader. That can lead to greater insights or even a subtle sense of one letter’s context among many.
Information is many things. It is dates and facts and images and words and numbers. But all of those were created to capture something about the human experience, and the reason we seek out and work to preserve information is to deepen our understanding of that experience and where we fit into it, as if we were a single sentence inside a vast library.
Print versions of academic titles are cheaper than their digital counterparts. Commercial publishers are more capable of catering to the information needs of students and researchers than the University presses by publishing more books. Just 57.5% of the required academic titles are available in digital format; hence, libraries cannot switch over to e-only collection development as all of what is needed is not available in digital format.
https://hechingerreport.org/textbook-dilemma-digital-paper/
While we await those future digital products, students deciding what school books to buy this fall would do well to ask themselves just what they hope to get from the text. As Alexander notes, “If I’m only trying to learn something that’s going to be covered on a test and the test is shallow in nature, then [digital] is just fine.” If, on the other hand, you hope to dive in deeply and gather imperishable pearls, spring for the book.
If you are reading something lengthy – more than 500 words or more than a page of the book or screen – your comprehension will likely take a hit if you’re using a digital device. The finding was supported by numerous studies and held true for students in college, high school, and grade school.
It held true although students thought they learned more from a digital device, perhaps because they could they could finish reading the material more quickly.
Not mentioned in the articles above is another issue. Errors are made in the process of digitalization. When questions arise, it is usually possible to check the original paper source, unless the original has been discarded. Space is always limited. Many libraries are culling their holdings.
I have been under Hutchinson, Kansas in a former salt mine that holds the original negatives of movies from the 1920s to the present in 15,000 square feet of a stable environment. Motion picture studios recognize the limits of digitalization. Despite the undoubted advantages. We should too.
A thoughtful presentation of current issues. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteTechnology certainly moves quickly for us these days. Nice post, Warren!
ReplyDeleteInteresting! Because I'm pounding a keyboard every day, I prefer to read from real books. And I know my kids preferred hardbound college textbooks to digital (rental books were a good option...and they could highight or take notes in them).
ReplyDeleteI’m torn about this. My latest indie books are digital only. Prior experience has suggested there is not all that much demand for paper. If that changes, I have my files (cloud, hard-drive, and external backup) and I can revisit the issue.
ReplyDeleteI learned the hard way about the fragility of digital documents. I’d kept journals throughout my life, on paper, not efficiently searchable. When I bought my first computer – 5.5 floppy discs, thank you – I went through the journals, typed the nuggets and discarded the chaff, including the hard copies of the journals. I transferred the nuggets to the 3” floppies when they came out and most computers had the double drives. Then the 3” drives began to disappear. To preserve my memories for the next generation (of digital information, not humans, most of my nuggets were red-letter days and story ideas), fed my discs into the floppy drive to make a journal file and discovered most were all corrupted.
In this day and age, I know to store my data in multiple formats, back then I trusted in the permanence of new tech. Fail