Owning physical books is revolutionary
THE TRUTH ABOUT OWNING PHYSICAL BOOKS
I saw this video making its way across social media. In it, the person replies to the question — “What has quietly gone away without anyone noticing?” His response made me pause: Ownership.
He reasoned that we used to buy things and actually own them. We’d buy our music (CDs, tapes, vinyls), we’d buy our film (DVDs, cassette tapes), and we’d even buy our hardware (USBs).
But today, all of these physical items have been replaced by services. We pay for music streaming services, film and TV streaming services, and even software but we don’t actually own any of it. And by not owning any of these things, we can’t control them. And, more nefariously, since we can’t control them, the services that we’re paying for can be changed or adjusted at any time without us being able to do anything about it.
I was trying to find this movie the other day called Before Sunrise. It’s the sequel to a movie I watched on an airplane called Before Sunset. When I searched for it through all of the streaming services that I pay for, only one of them had it and I would have to “rent” it for 48 hours or “purchase” it. But if I purchased it and that streamer decided to no longer carry that title, guess what? Yeah, I’m out of luck.
Interestingly enough, I decided against renting or purchasing it even though I really did want to watch the movie. I was a bit annoyed that I was already paying for this service yet they got to choose how I would interact with the film that was supposed to be part of their offering. It was also frustrating to search through my different streaming services trying to find this movie. It’s like I’m part of this game that big tech invented which I really never signed up for.
So even when I found the movie and they prompted me to buy, I asked myself: Is that really ownership?
I’m an author, so my mind then ventured to books; physical books. I’m always amazed at the resiliency of books in this digital era. For some reason, survey after survey, statistic after statistic, always seems to show that readers prefer physical books over any other option.
An Ipsos survey from 2018 showed that 65% of respondents preferred physical books. A 2022 survey by Stora Enso, which surveyed respondents from the U.K., U.S., France and Germany, yielded the exact same results. In that same year (2022) BookScan reported that 80% of books purchased by Gen Z in the UK were physical books.
In an era where ownership is so precarious, buying and owning a physical book has become a revolutionary act.
I don’t make that statement lightly; let me explain. First, the value of physical books is numerous and not only intrinsic. Yes, studies have shown that reading physical books help readers absorb more of the information, help children become better readers and amplify the joy of reading (not to mention less eye strain and better sleep).
But physical books are also materially valuable.
The Codex Leicester, a collection of thoughts, musings and ideas by Leonardo DaVinci, was sold for $30 million in 1994. It’s the most expensive non-religious book in the world. But that’s an outlier. You can purchase the first edition of The Founders Of The Western World: A History Of Greece And Rome by Michael Grant for just under a million dollars. The first edition of The Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens will run you about half a million dollars. Recently, I heard of a collector selling their haul of books for $150,000. That was in early 2024.
Knowing physical books command this type of monetary value is cool, but it’s not the core reason I say that owning a book is revolutionary. I say owning a physical book is revolutionary because even though they are less convenient and more expensive, we still make the choice to invest in the experience. And in an era dominated by convenience and digitization, in an era where a large portion of our lives are online, that decision speaks volumes.
Because digital books are right there, so are audiobooks. And while audiobooks continue to gain traction, their popularity is not nearly enough to even dent the stronghold physical books have on readers' imaginations.
When we own a physical book, we are declaring something about ourselves. We are saying that this thing belongs to me; that it is mine. That I am a person who cares about the essence of things, the spirit of it; that the experience of flipping the pages of this book means something to me. Something more. Something that transcends any quantification and extends to the soul of what it means to be human, to be connected to something wholly in its most authentic form.
We care for physical things differently and books are no exception. There’s no losing your password with physical books, no casual listening while you drive from one place to the next. A physical book has demands and when we purchase these physical books, we silently agree to these demands for attention and for care. It is ours. And in a digital world where “You will own nothing and be happy,” owning a physical book has certainly become revolutionary.
If I zoom out, I see this need for physicality returning to society. The same Gen Z report I referenced earlier also states that in-person coffee shop visits are up 71%. I’ve also seen no-smartphones-allowed-get-togethers happening around the world and I just watched a video where young people, younger Gen Zs and Gen As, are imploring their followers to “Get outside!” I know this doesn’t exactly relate to ownership, but I think there’s a correlation between physical ownership and in-person interaction. I haven’t researched that yet, it’s just a gut feeling.
One last thought: with the lack of physical ownership, I worry about the historical accuracy of things. I remember when Kanye West released his album The Life Of Pablo, he would revise it every week. At the time I thought it was kinda cool to have this morphing thing, but on reflection, it’s a bit unnerving.
Because what if I really liked the original? How would I ever be able to listen to that again? What if I tell people today like I’m telling you right now that I really enjoyed that album, but then it has morphed so much since its original inception that what I liked and listened to isn’t even what’s accurate to the current form of the album. What, then, is the truth of what was created? How will it be remembered and catalogued?
And maybe that’s not a big deal when it’s music or entertainment, but what if that morphing, that historical inaccuracy is committed within politics, science, within recorded history itself?
That’s my take on it, but how do you feel about the lack of ownership that is pervasive in our society? And what about owning physical books? Is that important to you?
I said this to my daughter recently, that the best way to know me - my most intimate thoughts- is to go through my bookshelf and opening my books. In them she will find my favourite lines with comments next to them. I own so little. I’m a big believer in minimalism. With the exception of books. There is something about holding a physical book in my hand, flipping the pages, writing in my comments that an audiobook for example can never replace. Not very practical perhaps for someone who likes to travel and move, but books are my comfort. Some like to go to a spa, my nervous system calms down around books. I even have a fridge magnet that says “you can never have too many books” :) I’m old fashioned that way. Also, I always make a point of buying my writer friend’s books! I’ll save my money elsewhere, but never on writers and their books.
I love the feel of books, the pride that sits with me as I place them in my home. I love when guests linger close to my bookshelf then ask questions. I love selecting a bookmark to compliment my read. The feel of a book in my hand will always be cherished.