In which Anna does not get Old Book Smell

I had a lovely little discussion about this on Facebook over the weekend, so I’m pulling this up into its own post.

Time and time again, in the eternal print vs. digital debate on books, one of the arguments I see the pro-print folks put forth is that ebooks can never replace the smell of an old book for them. People describe how it’s a vanilla-like smell, or in some cases brown-sugar-like. It’s a real and measurable phenonemon; it’s been studied! And intellectually, I certainly understand why people connect with it so strongly. It’s also a real and measurable phenomenon that people develop emotional attachments to smells, and certainly, I very much understand how a treasured book creates an emotional attachment.

But the smell thing? That doesn’t happen with me. Mostly, when I smell an old book, I have to fight off the urge to sneeze. Old books smell like dust to me, not like vanilla or brown sugar. Dara tells me it doesn’t happen with her, either. It makes me wonder if there’s a genetic thing going on here, like how cilantro tastes like battery acid to Dara.

Because as far as I can tell, my sense of smell isn’t particularly impaired. There are lots of smells I find pleasurable: tasty things baking, the smell of the ocean, wood crackling in a fireplace, the rosemary-and-lavender blend I like to use in my bubble bath. I do not, however, tend to form emotional attachments to smells. So I’m lacking one of the big factors I see cited on the print side of print vs. digital.

One of the folks in my Facebook discussion said she always thought of Giles in an early episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, “I, Robot”:

Jenny Calendar: Honestly, what is it about them that bothers you so much?

Giles: The smell.

Jenny Calendar: Computers don’t smell, Rupert.

Giles: I know. Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower, or a-a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell musty and-and-and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is a – it, uh, it has no-no texture, no-no context. It’s-it’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then-then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, it should be, um, smelly.

Me, I always think of the Star Trek TOS series episode “Court Martial”:

Cogley: Books, young man, books. Thousands of them. If time wasn’t so important, I’d show you something. My library. Thousands of books.

Captain James T. Kirk: And what would be the point?

Cogley: This is where the law is. Not in that homogenized, pasteurized synthesizer.

With powerful quotes like this in our pop culture references, honestly, I can’t blame my fellow book aficiandos for being so passionate about books as physical objects. Our culture does value them, and rightly so–though I could also argue that it doesn’t value them nearly as much as it should.

For me, though, the value and emotional attachment is not in the physical object, no matter how good it smells.

For me, Cogley and Giles are wrong. It’s the content of the books, their knowledge, their stories, that create the emotional attachment for me.

That is, indeed, the entire point of a book.

Mirrored from angelahighland.com.

In which Anna does not get Old Book Smell

I had a lovely little discussion about this on Facebook over the weekend, so I’m pulling this up into its own post.

Time and time again, in the eternal print vs. digital debate on books, one of the arguments I see the pro-print folks put forth is that ebooks can never replace the smell of an old book for them. People describe how it’s a vanilla-like smell, or in some cases brown-sugar-like. It’s a real and measurable phenonemon; it’s been studied! And intellectually, I certainly understand why people connect with it so strongly. It’s also a real and measurable phenomenon that people develop emotional attachments to smells, and certainly, I very much understand how a treasured book creates an emotional attachment.

But the smell thing? That doesn’t happen with me. Mostly, when I smell an old book, I have to fight off the urge to sneeze. Old books smell like dust to me, not like vanilla or brown sugar. Dara tells me it doesn’t happen with her, either. It makes me wonder if there’s a genetic thing going on here, like how cilantro tastes like battery acid to Dara.

Because as far as I can tell, my sense of smell isn’t particularly impaired. There are lots of smells I find pleasurable: tasty things baking, the smell of the ocean, wood crackling in a fireplace, the rosemary-and-lavender blend I like to use in my bubble bath. I do not, however, tend to form emotional attachments to smells. So I’m lacking one of the big factors I see cited on the print side of print vs. digital.

One of the folks in my Facebook discussion said she always thought of Giles in an early episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, “I, Robot”:

Jenny Calendar: Honestly, what is it about them that bothers you so much?

Giles: The smell.

Jenny Calendar: Computers don’t smell, Rupert.

Giles: I know. Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower, or a-a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell musty and-and-and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is a – it, uh, it has no-no texture, no-no context. It’s-it’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then-then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, it should be, um, smelly.

Me, I always think of the Star Trek TOS series episode “Court Martial”:

Cogley: Books, young man, books. Thousands of them. If time wasn’t so important, I’d show you something. My library. Thousands of books.

Captain James T. Kirk: And what would be the point?

Cogley: This is where the law is. Not in that homogenized, pasteurized synthesizer.

With powerful quotes like this in our pop culture references, honestly, I can’t blame my fellow book aficiandos for being so passionate about books as physical objects. Our culture does value them, and rightly so–though I could also argue that it doesn’t value them nearly as much as it should.

For me, though, the value and emotional attachment is not in the physical object, no matter how good it smells.

For me, Cogley and Giles are wrong. It’s the content of the books, their knowledge, their stories, that create the emotional attachment for me.

That is, indeed, the entire point of a book.

Mirrored from angelahighland.com.

In which Anna speaks up for all types of books

I feel the need to make a clarification on my previous post, which is intended to be more about my general bemusement about not getting the “old book smell” thing rather than a statement about print vs. digital in general. And yet, I’ve already started getting comments from various folks about “I prefer print because…” or “I prefer digital because…” Not just “I prefer”, either. I’m getting words like “aversion” thrown around, too.

Because yes, this is a contentious topic. And trust me when I tell you, folks, that I’ve heard all the various arguments for people’s preferred reasons for reading in whatever format they prefer. Many of them I do indeed adhere to myself.

I like print because…

• You don’t have to recharge a print book
• You don’t have to go to the trouble of cracking the DRM
• You can more safely read it in the bath (though I note I’ve actually dropped more print books than ereaders into the bath water)
• You can read it when the power goes out
• A well-designed book IS a thing of beauty and a joy forever
• If I ever lose my ereader, I still have the backup print copies of books by my most admired authors (the people I buy in both formats)

And I like digital because…

• It’s way easier for me to carry my ereader on a commute
• I have lots more books at my disposal on the commute
• I can immediately start a new book if I finish one partway through my lunch break or bus ride
• Ebooks take up no shelf space and the number of them I own is limited only by the space on the device
• There are some books I can in fact only get digitally, like all my fellow Carina authors’ books
• It’s way easier for me to buy Quebec SF/F in digital form than it is to order the books from Quebec
• I own so many print books already that I’m chronically out of shelf space, so I pretty much HAVE to buy digital right now

Notice here though how I say “I like…”, not “I prefer…” Because yes, I do like both formats. Both have their good points. Both have their bad points.

And I’d like to ask all of you out there, no matter which type of book you prefer, to be aware of how you present your preferences. I think I speak for digitally published authors everywhere when I say, for example, that it’s hurtful to hear someone say to you, “Well gosh, I’d love to read your book, but I only read real books.” As if that story you labored over for several years to get written, edited, accepted by a publisher, and then edited some more until it was fit to ship is somehow less worthy, less real, than books manifested in paper and ink.

I’m here to tell you, people, to the people that wrote those ebooks and to the people that enjoy reading them, those stories are every bit as real.

Likewise, digital advocates, be mindful of how you present yourselves too. It’s equally hurtful for people who love their books in physical form to hear “you’re behind the times” or “you’re stuck in the past” or “you’re being hurtful to the environment because your books are using paper” or whatever.

Those of you who know me well may recognize the similarity of this argument to ones I’ve put forth advocating against computer or phone evangelism, too. It’s the same principle, really.

Because what it boils down to is, people like what people like. You don’t have to explain it. You don’t have to defend it. Just remember, the feelings of the people who love print are every bit as real and valid as the feelings of the people who love digital, and vice versa.

And as I pointed out in the previous post, books themselves are powerful creators of emotion throughout our culture. Justifiably so.

On that, I think we can all agree!

Mirrored from angelahighland.com.

In which Anna speaks up for all types of books

I feel the need to make a clarification on my previous post, which is intended to be more about my general bemusement about not getting the “old book smell” thing rather than a statement about print vs. digital in general. And yet, I’ve already started getting comments from various folks about “I prefer print because…” or “I prefer digital because…” Not just “I prefer”, either. I’m getting words like “aversion” thrown around, too.

Because yes, this is a contentious topic. And trust me when I tell you, folks, that I’ve heard all the various arguments for people’s preferred reasons for reading in whatever format they prefer. Many of them I do indeed adhere to myself.

I like print because…

• You don’t have to recharge a print book
• You don’t have to go to the trouble of cracking the DRM
• You can more safely read it in the bath (though I note I’ve actually dropped more print books than ereaders into the bath water)
• You can read it when the power goes out
• A well-designed book IS a thing of beauty and a joy forever
• If I ever lose my ereader, I still have the backup print copies of books by my most admired authors (the people I buy in both formats)

And I like digital because…

• It’s way easier for me to carry my ereader on a commute
• I have lots more books at my disposal on the commute
• I can immediately start a new book if I finish one partway through my lunch break or bus ride
• Ebooks take up no shelf space and the number of them I own is limited only by the space on the device
• There are some books I can in fact only get digitally, like all my fellow Carina authors’ books
• It’s way easier for me to buy Quebec SF/F in digital form than it is to order the books from Quebec
• I own so many print books already that I’m chronically out of shelf space, so I pretty much HAVE to buy digital right now

Notice here though how I say “I like…”, not “I prefer…” Because yes, I do like both formats. Both have their good points. Both have their bad points.

And I’d like to ask all of you out there, no matter which type of book you prefer, to be aware of how you present your preferences. I think I speak for digitally published authors everywhere when I say, for example, that it’s hurtful to hear someone say to you, “Well gosh, I’d love to read your book, but I only read real books.” As if that story you labored over for several years to get written, edited, accepted by a publisher, and then edited some more until it was fit to ship is somehow less worthy, less real, than books manifested in paper and ink.

I’m here to tell you, people, to the people that wrote those ebooks and to the people that enjoy reading them, those stories are every bit as real.

Likewise, digital advocates, be mindful of how you present yourselves too. It’s equally hurtful for people who love their books in physical form to hear “you’re behind the times” or “you’re stuck in the past” or “you’re being hurtful to the environment because your books are using paper” or whatever.

Those of you who know me well may recognize the similarity of this argument to ones I’ve put forth advocating against computer or phone evangelism, too. It’s the same principle, really.

Because what it boils down to is, people like what people like. You don’t have to explain it. You don’t have to defend it. Just remember, the feelings of the people who love print are every bit as real and valid as the feelings of the people who love digital, and vice versa.

And as I pointed out in the previous post, books themselves are powerful creators of emotion throughout our culture. Justifiably so.

On that, I think we can all agree!

Mirrored from angelahighland.com.