The soullessness of a new machine

Trapped within the bounds of computer screens and hand-held devices

April 16, 2009

Coming home from the city one evening, my friend and I found ourselves slumped over in our seats on the train, exhausted from the day’s events. We drifted in and out of casual conversation, until something unusual caught my eye.

Just in front of us, a man sat comfortably (yet probably similarly dazed) in his seat, wearing a suit, his briefcase at hand. All that was missing from this typical New York City commuter was a newspaper.

Instead, he was holding what looked like a tiny laptop. As I looked closer, though, I could see that on the screen that was encased by a white plastic rim were words: it looked like a book…but on a screen?

Before long, my friend rescued me from my confusion, informing me that this gadget was the latest new trend: the Kindle.

According to its maker, Amazon.com, “the Kindle Store has more than 230,000 books available, plus top newspapers, magazines, and blogs. This is just the beginning. Our vision is to have every book ever printed, in any language, all available in under 60 seconds on Kindle.”

This means no schlepping of books on trips and no tearing of pages in exchange for immediate access to any book on the market.

Let’s face it — this thing is utterly brilliant.

Once I surpassed the point of googly-eyed fascination, I began thinking: the birth of the Kindle is certainly a positive sign of technological advancement.

But where lovers of the arts of writing and literature are concerned, there is something almost devastating about this most recent invention.

For many, myself included, there’s something truly satisfying about possessing a book — being able to rub the pages between thumb and index finger, crack the spine at just the right spot and turn the corner of the page down when an interruption arises.

Though technology such as the Kindle is certainly practical and useful, the whole experience of reading a book, completely immersing oneself in the language and the story, becomes severely restricted.

As a society, we’ve come to the general conclusion that advancing technology is always good.

But truth be told, it is alarming how much value a simple pastime like reading can lose, when we do it on a Kindle, or even online.

Here, ease seems to be the driving force.

Blogs make it easy for people to express their ideas. Online newspapers make it easy for people to stay updated on the latest news. Word processing programs make it easy for students to write papers. E-mail makes it easy to compose “thank you” notes.

My worry is not that people in our country might begin to get lazy, but that the reading and writing that was once so personal, so tangible, and so experiential, becomes administered completely by machines.

And just as the creators of Kindle “won’t stop” until they reach their goal of having every book available on their virtual store, it doesn’t seem like this technological version of reading/writing will stop progressing, either.

It’s been hard for everyone to avoid these past few years, but now, it’s getting even harder for me to ignore.

Anytime I have to sign something in script, I’m embarrassed by my handwriting. After years of writing essays on Microsoft Word and taking scribbled notes in class, there’s virtually no need for me — or anyone else my age — to use script. Texting and the latest trend of BBM-ing (BlackBerry Messenger) don’t help either.

My main concern is, what will become of the arts of reading and writing as our society continues to advance?

Though convenience may attract people (myself included) to these new technologies, it seems inevitable that we’ll find ourselves, at some point, in a cold, machine-driven world.

As reading, writing, and communicating continue to lose the human touch, we’ll become trapped within the bounds of computer screens and hand-held devices.

And so will fade the warmth that comes along with a handshake, the turn of a page, and the dotting of an i, in exchange for the clicks of tiny BlackBerry buttons, the scroll of a mouse, and the zig-zag underlines that indicate error.

Lauren Kaplan, 17, attends Newark Academy and is a member of Nu’s teen board.