Books

When my daughter Hannah was about six, she once referred to a vinyl album as "a big CD". I'd pretty much stopped buying vinyl before she was born in 1993, so actually that was a reasonable stab at describing what she meant. And while there is undoubtedly a resurgence in vinyl buying these days, it's a bit niche. (I wouldn't mind betting it'll outlast CDs, though.)

MiniDiscs and tape cassettes have had their day, though, as have the 8-track cartridges that even I can't remember seeing in the flesh. In the world of video, we no longer have Betamax and VHS, let alone laser disks.I wonder how long DVDs and Blu-Ray will last? I guess we'll all be streaming on our fibre before too long.

I wonder what will happen to books? I've little doubt that the majority of people will move to the convenience of Kindle. I must confess I've done that, myself, primarily due to re-reading all of Iain M Banks' large, weighty books, which are a lot less convenient when commuting than a device that fits both in one hand and a jacket pocket. 

But I find it hard to imagine books disappearing altogether. Perhaps it's evidence of my age and mental calcification that I can't envisage a time when we no longer have those gorgeous substantial objects and the tangible pleasure of their pages. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. Either way, it makes me sad to think that a place like this bookshop in Carnforth might disappear. There are few pleasures to compare with browsing shelf after shelf of lovely old books with their wonderful scent that obliquely invokes the wonderful duality of being physically in one place yet somewhere totally different in a book.