There was a time when there was little I enjoyed more than a brand new book, the audible snap as as the spine bent for the first time, the crisp smells of bleached paper and ink rising from the pages.

As hardcover books became priced beyond my allowance, I then had to wait impatiently for the paperback version to be released.  As paperbacks ultimately reached the price of those long ago hard covers, I became more and more reluctant to purchase a book by an unknown author, no matter how enticing the back cover blurb or how intriguing the first page.

Between the high production cost and the decline in buyers, the publishing industry is dying.  The age of technology has put the printed word into cyberspace, available for instant gratification with a finger tap.  I don’t know of anyone who subscribes to a printed newspaper anymore.  Most of us sit down at our computers and pull up the headlines news, whether it is local, national or international, with a click of a button.

All of the essential facts are summarized – we don’t even have to skim a story to find out the basic information.   No wonder The Rocky Mountain Times has ceased to exist and The Seattle Post Intelligencer is now only available on-line. The Tribune Company, which owns the Chicago Tribune, The Los Angeles Times and my local paper, The Morning Call, filed for bankruptcy protection in December.   Even “The Gray Lady” is in trouble. The New York Times advertising revenue has dropped by over 16% and they have a debt that comes due this year. Additionally, the next generation of Sulzberger’s have no interest in running the paper and have only stayed involved thus far for the big payouts. However, since those have dropped 74%, why would they stick around?  It’s not a business for their generation.  Actually, at this point, it’s not a business for any generation.

Computers have taken diminished our two essential skills for reading enjoyment:  focus and imagination. Because of our newfound abilities to surf the net for information on just about any subject instantly, our ability to read and stay focused for an extended period has deteriorated.  The idea of reading a novel that is over 400 pages long is paralyzing to some.  Are we reverting to our childhood needs where a book wasn’t interesting unless it had pictures?  Now, even addresses aren’t enough:  we need satellite views and street views.  Even music can no longer stand alone without visual aids.  Back in the early 80’s when only dance clubs had music videos, they consisted of the band performing their songs.  Now, music videos have to show the story, complete with the musicians in full costume on a set.  Does music really have to be a mini-movie?  And, speaking of movies, when was the last time you heard someone say that the book was better than the film?  Most of the “new” releases are just remakes of old TV shows and movies and (gasp!) comic books.  How many people even know that the movie “ The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button” was based on a short story of the same name by F. Scott Fitzgerald?

Those of us who still have our imaginations don’t seem to have the time, or the desire, to physically walk into a bookstore.  We download right to our personal electronic devices.  The publishing industry has declined steadily over the last few years, but advancements in technology, such as Kindle and the i-Phone, have driven a stake through its heart. Unfortunately, no one has told Random House.  During a 6-month delay in publishing Dan Brown’s third installment in the Robert Langdon franchise (The DaVinci Code, Angels & Demons,) Doubleday was forced to lay off 10% of their staff.  Can one novelist save one publisher and prove that the printed word still has merit? Random House is banking on it and has ordered a first printing of 5 million copies of Brown’s “The Lost Symbol,” one of the highest in their history.  I suspect, however, that a few months after its September 15th release, you will be able to pick up a copy of  it on the remainder table, along with other treasures from the Random House vault.

My plans are to go on line to my local library’s website to reserve a copy of “The Lost Symbol.” If I am lucky, I will be the first to snap its spine and run my hands over it’s unblemished pages, although the hard cellophane will definitely take away from that experience.  But, who knows?  I have a birthday between now and then, so maybe I’ll be reading it on my Kindle.