People have been predicting that electronic books will become the primary literary format for quite a while now, but it’s only recently that the path to a predominantly e-book ecosystem has become clear. E-readers like the Kindle and devices like the iPad that are optimized for reading are still nascent technologies, but already we’re seeing mainstream use to the point where the eventual mass adoption of such devices seems obvious. There are many questions about what this will mean for reading, from behavioral shifts to economic adjustments, but the question that has been most compelling to me lately is this: What is the role of the printed book in an e-book society?

My suspicion is that the book as a physical artifact will begin to take on a position of privilege in a number of ways. One is privilege from a socio-economic standpoint, in that being able to afford physical books (And possibly even the desire for physical books) may become an indicator of class. But I think that it will also be a mark of privilege for the book itself. I was thumbing through one of Edward Tufte’s books the other day and thinking that the experience of reading his books is one that could never be effectively translated to a purely electronic medium. The sense of elegance, thoughtfulness, and importance of his books are partly conveyed by the tactile experience — the quality of the paper, the book’s dimensions and heft, the typesetting, etc. It communicates a lot of meta-information about itself through it’s object-ness. It comes back to the problem of digital objects seeming inherently more disposable and less valuable than their physical counterparts. As a result, I think that books that we deem “important” or “beautiful” will still tend to be consumed (and shared, and displayed) as physical artifacts, whereas the rest of our literary pursuits will be relegated to the more functional and lesser status as electronic media.

In writing this, I do wonder if there is any way that electronic books and publications can convey a greater importance and value. As a designer, I wonder what kinds of design interventions might bring some of the tactile joy of reading a well-designed physical book to screen-based environments.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this in the comments. What kinds of books or publications, if any, would you see as being reserved for a print experience? What kinds of design interventions might make the e-book experience better and more tangible?

While there’s much to agree with in Wasik’s arguments, he offers us few specifics on how to “neuter” these viral stories. He mentions Jake Silverstein’s idea of an Internet Ramadan, during which participants go offline for a month, or Intel’s flirtation with offline “quiet time” one morning a week. Rather than offer specifics, Wasik focuses on individual choices, the familiar idea of unplugging ourselves from the constant flow of information — or, more elegantly, that “we must become judicious controllers of our own contexts, making careful and self-reflective choices about what we read, watch, consume.”

Viral media culture adds another layer of complexity to the already enormous problem of data overload. How do you filter your information? How do you edit your attention? Historically, newspapers and other news media acted (with variable quality) as a filter, letting the average person know what information and events were important enough to warrant their attention. But the news ecosystem has changed dramatically, and now includes vast numbers of people and organizations using the media to promote their own stories and points of view. What sorts of new filters or constraints will we have to devise to help us sort through the noise and find the signals?