We are going through what will presently be seen as a rather unique transition in history, perhaps comparable to the transition from stagecoaches to cars in the 1880s. As eReaders take over the market, there has been talk about whether bookstores have been driven out of business (no) or at least whether they will be (probably: it is my opinion that drones making super-fast home deliveries are a bigger threat to bookstores, as to all physical stores alike).

But that is for the future to decide. At the moment, the question on hand is a little closer to home: do people prefer print books over eReaders? I cannot speak for everyone else, but for my own small part, I used to think eReaders were it, but I seem to have slowly begun to be drawn back to print.

The smell of paper

There are certain things electronic devices cannot achieve right now: smell is one of them. There has been some development in this area in the last couple of years, but conveying odours via gadgets in a safe (and not messy) fashion is yet to meet standards necessary for mainstream production. Paper books, on the other hand, come bundled with a nostalgic smell that we — especially us voracious readers — have drowned once too often in to be able to forget about or stop looking for so easily.

However there is a catch here: it is because we are the generation going through this transition, or, more specifically, it is because we are one of the last generations that grew up for a considerable number of years on paper books, that we have nostalgia at all. This, an extremely important factor continually nudging us back to print books, will be wholly absent in future generations thanks to an upbringing largely around electronic devices. They will have their own problems and perks as a result, but a longing for print books will most certainly not be one of them.

In the end, to think that words alone are the enjoyment of books would be a fallacy. The texture of paper, the smell and the act of turning a new leaf every minute all play together.

The convenience of thickness

The most obvious aspect of thicknesses comes in the form of an eReader’s slim and lightweight profile, capable of carrying thousands of books inside less than the volume of half a novel. My Kindle Voyage, for example, at 7.6mm, is just 0.5mm thicker than my iPhone, making it an easy device to handle and read on for long hours as far as your wrist is considered. And that I can start another book almost as soon as I finish my current read is something print books cannot always afford.

But there is a whole other side to this debate on thickness: knowing how much of a book you have read — even if only on a subconscious level — just by holding it while you read it, is a convenience that has long been underrated. It is also information of the kind which percentages and page numbers will never be able to convey in full. Perhaps the reason they cannot do this is precisely because this is not truly information at all; in the spirit, it is a sense of accomplishment. One might be tempted to put this off as a silly complaint, but it is not a complaint, and any avid reader will agree it is by no means silly. The sense of accomplishment that comes from reading a book, page after page, is blissful and not something eReaders offer.

Empty bookshelves

There is, in addition to all this, another dilemma I have. It would be completely excusable to call this silly, but it does bother me to some extent. What happens to my bookshelf if all the books I buy are electronic? Now on the practical side, the shelves remain as full as they are now — or as empty as they are now, if you’re a bookshelf half-empty kind of person. I could use that place to stock other stuff and that is a good thing.

The fundamental error in any eReader v. print book argument is that most see it as the survival of one or the other. It is not so cut and dried.

Call me old–fashioned, but it bothers me deeply that my bookshelf will not get additions. My solution to that, at the moment, is to read books both in print and electronically. That halves the rate of new entrants into my shelf, but at least it does not become entirely abandoned. As of the time of writing this, my print book on order is Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus and on my Kindle I’m reading Christopher Hitchens’ collection of excellent essays, Arguably. It works, and is probably the best solution at the moment. I never read multiple books at once, which means I read print and electronic books alternatively.

There is a certain amount of flair associated with print books. This is an entirely materialistic argument and does not bother me at all, but it does others: a lot of people, especially teens, seem to be buying books because they browsed it in libraries or bookstores or saw it on in–store displays, according to a Nielsen survey.

The scientific bend

There is science backing the claim that print books are not about to go anywhere in the next couple of decades. It would only be surprising if one was short-sighted enough to declare the end of everything non-technological and hence the end of print books. On the one hand, sales of Kindles ought not to be compared with the sales of print books (like Bustle did last year) for the simple reason that nobody buys devices repeatedly whereas they buy book after book.

Yet, the whole backlighting–ruins–sleep–cycles argument is stale. If you call your iPad an eReader, you probably need to familiarise yourself with gadgets first. Kindles, for instance, light inwards, at the paper and not directly at your face. The small light leak that does occur is harmless and no study has successfully shown its negative sides although several point to the ill-effects of using your iPad for prolong times just before going to bed. (Really, why would you?) The argument about eTextbooks is a whole other story, so I will leave that out entirely. For the curious, there are surveys showing science students use eBooks more than students of the humanities; I will leave it to you to ponder why.

An equally strong argument, sometimes coming from readers themselves, is that print books are better simply because they get distracted too easily while reading eBooks (often thanks to social media apps being two clicks away). Putting any question of self–control aside, this comes down to defining our current debate itself: eReaders and not eBooks. Reading eBooks on eReaders (Kindles, Nooks etc.) does not come with added social media luxury — plus their slow, e–ink screen is rather discouraging towards anything but reading books.

Co-existance is the way forward

The fundamental error in any eBook v. physical book or eReader v. print book argument is that most see it as the survival of one or the other. It is not so cut and dried. The dimension of arguments changes dramatically when we realise that, like walking and driving — you do not have to pick, you go by situation — this is really a question of when do you find one more convenient than the other.

There are some instances when one is clearly superior: searching is a breeze in electronic formats, as is carrying it around. But leaving it in public is a safer bet with print books, as is not having to keep an eye on battery or night lighting. Some may suit individuals by circumstance as well: novels in electronic format, textbooks in print, or vice versa. It really all boils down to individual decision.

My own usage pattern for the foreseeable future will be as it has been since the last six months: novels will alternate as print and electronic books, textbooks will be tried electronically and select ones (which I find myself referring to a lot) will be bought in print. In short, I will be using print and electronic books side-by-side, and, unless I am considerably mistaken, this is how everyone will be using them for the next couple of decades at least, unless electronic books and eReaders undergo a massive revolution of some sort that completely uproots their design.

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