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By Michael Levine-Clark

Probably like most librarians, I went to library school because I loved books and associated libraries with some of my fondest book-related memories. In my childhood, and through college, I used libraries to find books. Occasionally I used periodicals or even microfiche, but the library, to me, was all about the books. I learned in library school that library collections were becoming increasingly digital, and that most of the things libraries purchased were journals; already, in the mid-1990s, the collection was much more than an aggregation of monographs, and had been for a long time. But students coming to use the library had no choice but to encounter books, and it would have been very difficult to complete any research assignment without using some print publications.

Penrose Library, University of Denver (11-19-12). Creative Commons License.

Overall, electronic resources are a good thing — an amazing thing. They can be used by students wherever they happen to be; they can be searched in ways that would have been unimaginable a decade ago; they free up valuable shelf space; and they make available incredible content that would have required focused research trips when I was in college. Resources like Early English Books Online or London Low Life — just two of hundreds available to University of Denver students — make it possible to conduct primary research at levels impossible at most universities not too long ago.

But we have done such an amazing job building digital collections that students can attend the University of Denver without ever needing to touch paper publications, without ever having to encounter physical books — and that’s a shame. There is value to the book as a physical object, and libraries need to find ways to emphasize that value to digital natives.

At the University of Denver, we decided to emphasize books — while still committing strongly to our digital collections — by increasing funding for special collections. Within that context, we began collecting artists’ books heavily about five years ago and now have a collection of almost 900 titles, many of them unique. There are larger and more important collections at many libraries, but our collection is quickly becoming significant.

Artists’ books are works of art, books where the container is as important as the content, and books that call out to be handled. When done well, artists’ books can impact all of our senses. Direction of the Road, by Ursula K. Le Guin, produced in an elaborate edition by Foolscap Press, uses the texture of the paper to mimic the rustling of leaves. And this book’s use of anamorphic art always surprises readers. But artists’ books can also be quite simple. A Diction, a small but powerful book, shaped like a pint glass, uses simple text and white space to capture the experience of addiction.

As students become less and less used to physical books, this collection gives them a chance to immerse themselves in the book. It is a reminder that libraries have always been about books, and will continue to be about books even when most of our collections become digital.

There are some terrific resources for learning more about artists’ books. Vamp & Tramp Booksellers — besides having a wonderful name and being run by wonderful people — has a great website that makes it easy to get a sense of the books they carry. Joshua Heller Rare Books and Priscilla Juvelis have great selections as well. And the Guild of Book Workers maintains a useful list of Book Arts Links.

Michael Levine-Clark is the Associate Dean for Scholarly Communication and Collections Services at the University of Denver’s Penrose Library. He is co-editor of the journal Collaborative Librarianship, co-editor of The ALA Glossary of Library and Information Science, 4th edition, and co-editor of the Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, 4th edition. He has been a member or chair of many committees within library organizations, and has served on a variety of national and international publisher and vendor library advisory boards. He writes and speaks regularly on strategies for improving academic library collection development practices, including the use of e-books in academic libraries and the development of demand-driven acquisition (DDA) models. Read his previous blog posts: “An academic librarian without a library” and “Replacing ILL with temporary leases of ebooks.”

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Image credit: Photograph of Steacie Science and Engineering Library at York University by Raysonho@Open Grid Scheduler. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

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This week, I read my first book on Amazon's remarkable new e-book reader, Kindle. It's not perfect, but it beats many of the other e-book delivery system I've ever tried. Full disclosure: I work for OCLC, which owns NetLibrary, one of the world's largest distributors of e-content.

My Kindle arrived last week after a one-month wait. The packaging seems a little excessive, but at least it wasn't in one of those god-awful unbreakable blister packs. It comes with a number of accessories, including an AC charger, a USB connector, a pretty good instruction manual, and a funky cardboard leatherette cover. The unit ships with two bits of content: a welcome letter from Jeff Bezos, which I accidentally deleted immediately after reading it, and a longer version of the user's manual.

I went to the Kindle store, accessible from the unit, and ordered two books: Steve Martin's Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life and the Oxford edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The first thing you discover as you order Kindle books is that your unit is already associated with your Amazon account, so buying books is utterly seamless and as addictive as crystal meth. The books also download as fast as advertised. The second thing you discover is that the books are not all priced at $9.99; many are considerably more expensive and other, mainly public domain classics, are very inexpensive. Old Huck only cost me $1.29. Given Mark Twain's hatred for the expiration of copyright, he would not have been happy that I could pick up his book that inexpensively. But he would have been enthralled by the technology.

The Kindle is lighter than most paperbacks. The e-Ink technology is every bit as slick as you've probably heard. Without backlighting, there is no flicker to the page. I read the entire Steve Martin book without having to recharge the battery. It's not a very long book, but even so...

None of this would amount to a hill of beans if the reading experience were not there. For me, it is there. In spades.

I found myself getting thoroughly enmeshed in Martin's memoir, as thoroughly as if I were reading the paper edition. It helps that it's well-written and covers subjects (comedy, show business) in which I have long-standing interests. But I've begun re-reading Huck Finn, and I've also begun Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals, and I believe that the experience will be carried into other titles as well. In fact, this is the second time I've begun Team of Rivals: the size of the book physically overwhelmed me. I couldn't carry it conveniently in my computer bag on an airplane, and it is too unwieldy to read in bed. Since these two places are where I do 75% of my non-work reading, I knew I was never going to make it through the hardback!

Another great feature is the variety of type sizes from which you can choose. At night, when I'm tired, it is tow clicks to make the type size is bigger. During the day, when I'm more alert, I can go to the smaller size and page forward less often.

As noted, Kindle isn't perfect in my opinion. I still keep accidentally advancing the page before I'm ready, due to the position of the two "next page" bars on either side of the unit. The screen wipe between pages, required by the e-Ink, is moderately distracting, but I'm learning how to time the "next page" button so that the screen wipes just as I've read the last word on the page. With such diversions are small minds made happy.

The proprietary format and the charges to access blogs and other content that are freely available elsewhere are real problems now, although I would expect to see these addressed in the not too distant future. The cardboard/leatherette cover is good for protecting the reader, but you can't actually hold the book to read when it's in the cover, unless I'm doing something pathetically wrong. Not that it would be the first time.

This little reader is a fascinating step forward for e-content, in my opinion. I would love to see textbooks available in this format. I hate seeing my poor 8-year old grandson schlepping a heavy backpack full of textbooks. By the time he hits college, his back is going to be in worse shape than mine is now.

So the question seems to be, what now for libraries? Do we have in Kindle an opportunity, a threat, or a parallel course?

PS: A slightly earlier piece I wrote about Kindle is now available on WebJunction here.

A somewhat urgent sounding post from FreeGovInfo: “[A]t a time when the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are greatly ramping up the need for evidence-based medicine in the military, the Pentagon seems to be choosing to gut their medical information resources.”