Choosing “the Book”

Five years ago, I had two very different lives stretched out before me. One was a career as a rare books librarian: my days would have been filled with greatness, but it also would have been a life of poverty, frequent irrelevance, and a struggle to stay employable in an increasingly digital world. The other option was a corporate life of digitization, innovation, and the future of the book – not “the book” as an object, but “the book” as a concept.

I’d like to say that I chose digital because I knew where the future was headed, and certainly, that’s why I developed that skill set while I was at the BPL. But honestly, I wasn’t so prophetic back then. I was young and poor, and I simply applied for every librarian job in New York, London, Boston, and San Francisco. I almost took a job at Google Books, but they refused to pay for my relocation expenses. I almost took a job at some creepy independent bookstore, until I realized they wanted me to stalk people for their matchmaking service. I ended up in NYC, in digital, because People magazine needed someone that knew both metadata and the names of Britney Spears’ kids.

As the years have floated by, I’ve created a career that intertwines the book experience and the interactive experience: sometimes I focus on them separately, sometimes together. It’s a niche, but one that I love. Yet it doesn’t take a professional strategist to see that the book industry is shrinking. It’s not shrinking because books are going online – I consider reading an ebook just as valid as reading a print book. No, the book industry is shrinking because people are too distracted playing Angry Birds and watching videos of double rainbows. More time on digital snacking, less time on reading. Places like Barnes & Noble are adapting by selling Harry Potter wands and, of course, Angry Birds.

Despite being an early adopter and in love with digital innovation, I am depressed that people aren’t reading very much anymore, and depressed that B&N is going to start selling faucets. I don’t know what this all means yet (either for the industry or my career) and there isn’t the usual unicorn-y epiphany at the end of this blog. I just want someone, anyone, to own the reading experience – and that’s why now, all these years later, I still choose this life.