Electronic Books

I read that some young Japanese do most of their reading on their mobile phones. Now you can buy electronic books that don’t flicker. These developments may bring advantages but, in my experience, so often technological advances involve a step backwards too.
I have just begun the arduous process of converting my vinyl LPs to digital format. Those who have done the same will know what a nostalgic experience this is. I refer not just to the pleasure of listening again to all those wonderful tracks that rekindle memories of lost youth, but also the whole rigmarole that used to accompany the listening experience.
First, there are the LP covers, often beautifully designed with witty liner notes and crammed full of pictures and information that is, unlike on their CD successors, readable without the need for a magnifying glass.
I remember the care I used to take over the handling of the records themselves; replacing polythene-lined sleeves to prevent static, having a separate arm on the turntable to remove dust, never stacking them on top of each other to prevent warping.
Then there was the importance I gave to the quality of the sound. Could I afford those top-of-the-range speakers that would enhance my listening experience? Should I invest in a more sensitive arm that would improve the performance of an already high fidelity turntable? Should I spend those extra pounds on a higher specification cartridge and stylus?
And what about the amplifier? I recall a friend telling me that he spent what to him was a small fortune on one that had valves because the sound was so much superior to solid-state.
He was “horrified” to discover the extent of this when he finally succumbed to the modern ones. He did so because he got tired of the valves regularly blowing. And therein lies the problem that technological advance so often brings with it; there’s a trade-off between convenience and quality.
Now, I listen to music either on the small, tinny speakers of my computer, the small tinny speakers in my car or the small, tinny earphones of my i-pod. I have accepted technical mediocrity.
The same holds for digital cameras. What I love about them is the instant access they give you to your pictures; no more waiting for the processing and printing to see whether the shot you took has come out the way you hoped it would. Converting from film to digital has reinvigorated my interest in photography. Not having to worry that each shot will cost money means I can take lots more. Has it improved me as a photographer? I’m not sure. Purists tell me that film is still a better medium and that the instant gratification of digital cameras makes you lazy. Perhaps they’re right.
I have a flat-screen TV. It’s beautifully stylish, light and so space saving. But is the picture better than my old, bulky Cathode Ray Tube set? No.
So, as I sit here watching the progress bar on my computer sucking out the dynamic range of my LP track as it converts it to an .mp3 file, I feel a sense of loss. Yet, at the same time, I’m listening to more music now than I have done in decades thanks to the new opportunities that digital files have opened up.
So, as I ponder the advent of the electronic book era, which I guess will eventually make books as we know them redundant, I can imagine missing the simple tactile pleasure that paper books currently hold for me; the look, design, the touch, even the smell. Yet I will marvel too at the fact that a whole library can be at my fingertips and that huge forests can be saved. Progress, almost inevitably, comes at a price.