Sense of Adventure

… behold the Espresso Book Machine!

(Well, not literally: there’s no picture.)

Friends, I give you the future of publishing, dead-tree edition. Not necessarily this implementation; but here’s where it’s going.

By odd synchronicity I was discussing bind-on-demand, book-on-demand technology last night with some ASFS friends, in the hospital room where we visited one of our number who’s recovering (nicely, thank you) from knee-replacement surgery. Okay: I was ranting about it; it’s one of my hot buttons. I’m sure this comes as just a huge surprise to you.

I’m not sure why there’s still such resistance to reading on handheld devices, although one of the many great things about the Kindle is that it’s bringing a lot of readers around to e-reading.

For some reason a great many people get defensive at the notion of e-books, as if somehow they’ll snatch the dead-tree books out of their hands and off their bookshelves. How, exactly?

Look: I hugely prefer reading on my Palm TX Handheld. I love having, literally, a library of fiction and non-fiction books in my shirt pocket, especially waiting in long grocery-store lines. I love being able to search electronically, for, say, the introduction of a character who’s just been mentioned again without my retaining any idea in Hell who she is. I love, and make frequent use of the backlighting (lack of which is one of my several beefs against the Kindle.)

But look, kids: fond as I am of reading on my PDA, I’m also fond of money. So as a professional writer, I say: you only want old-school books you can hold in your hand? No problem! If you want them in Sumerian cuneiform on clay tablets badly enough to pay for ‘em, I’d love to find a way to accommodate you. All I really care about is that, though my sins be scarlet, my books be read. And that I get paid for ‘em, of course.

And I think bind-on-demand technology, such as the Espresso, is how that’s going to work in the future.

Here’s my model for it: you go to a bookstore. It maybe has some hardcopies on hand for ready perusal. Mainly it’s got terminals for you to browse for what you want, read some samples, see the latest. When you find a book you want, you specify it, and then specify the parameters for your own volume. Large print? Got it! Paperback or hardcover? Your choice! Depending on content, even options such as with or without illustrations - B&W or color.

Basically, you pay first for the content - if it’s a public domain book, such as from Project Gutenberg, that part’s free* - and the online publisher and writer get their share. Or just the writer, if the writer’s jumped through the necessary hoops to set up pay-per-download (the thing that’s kept me from doing this myself for almost ten years now.)

Then you pay for the actual production of the book: any special options (large font should be cheap or free; hardcover instead of paper, not so much). And a bit for the storekeepers’ profit. (As the linked article points out, this technology could also revitalize local mom-and-pop brick-and-mortar stores.)

Then you hit Enter, go sip a latte, and in a few minutes, out comes your book. Your book: customized to your desire.

There are various ramifications. How about: pick your own cover? The writer or publisher can contract with willing artist/designers to put up their own versions for purchase and DL. It’s handled the way the written content is: preview, pick, pay, print.

Now, I’m not sure that’s the model the Espresso will follow. Likely not; among other things, I suspect there’ll initially be plenty of hitches as one or another player tries to make thing proprietary. I think the model I propose will be successful, profitable for writers and sellers, and great for readers. It isn’t the only possible model; it’s not the only one that could meet those parameters; there could be better ones.

If so, I’m eager to see ‘em.

One of the most wonderful aspects of the fabrication revolution - software moderated, produced on demand - that we’re undergoing, largely without fanfare, is the death of another incarnation of the Procrustean ideal of one size fits all. Because one size never fits all - does it?

I’m an unabashed technophile. It’s advances such as this - and I emphasize that even if the Espresso sucks, or fails and dies, it still points the way to brighter things - that justify that childlike love.

Note: I have my gripes about the Kindle hardware (no backlighting; good luck fitting it in that shirt pocket), and there may be some unfortunate or even odious traits to Amazon.com’s approach both to e-pubbing and independent pubbing. As a professional writer, there are many reasons I adore the Kindle; as a reader, I look forward to getting the money together to buy one even though I like my Palm better. But those are matters for a future post. Stay tuned.

*It’d, of course, be civilized and appreciative for booksellers who avail themselves of such public-domain services as PG or The Internet Sacred Text Archive to toss them some coin by way of donation. You might give it some thought, too. Please.

Oh, and I’ve got some tidings regarding Sacred Texts, too. Soon…

Tags: bind-on-demand, publishing

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 28th, 2008 at 4:53 pm and is filed under Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.