The author, James Gleick, begins by sharing a memory of the opportunity he had to personally examine the papers of Sir Isaac Newton. He describes the experience of touching and closely examining the very pages upon which Newton wrote his notes and ideas. Gleick relates to historians as he describes "the exhilaration that comes from handling the venerable original. It’s a contact high." He indicates that there was a distinct difference in physically examining the original papers rather than only the microfilm version. He notes specifically that he would never have known the diminutive and precise penmanship of Newton from the microfilm or that Newton began his text at both ends of his notebooks and worked toward the center.
After sharing this memory, which is sure to warm the hearts of readers, researchers, and historians, he halts abruptly and begins to chastise those who believe that these types of opportunities are nearing extinction because of projects that seek to make historic documents digital and available to anyone. He indicates that a recent project launched by Google and the British Library that will "digitize 40 million pages of books, pamphlets and periodicals dating to the French Revolution" and many similar projects, including one that recently that digitized a Bulgarian document dating from 1221 and the Swedish Rok runestone, which predates Leif Ericson, have provoked mixed feelings.
He argues that those who see this technological advancement as an affront to the art of research are simply caught up in the romance of touching or being near something hundred of years old. He indicates that while some believe that this technology devalues their own work and makes incredible and surprising discoveries impossible, he believes that online research can offer the same amount of "unexpected twists and turns of research" as traditional archival research.
Gleick asserts that opposition to this digitization is simply the notion that "what one loves about books is the grain of paper and the scent of glue." He charges the opponents to this progress with "sentimentalism" and "fetishization", faulting them for their love of the physical presence of books, manuscripts, and historic documents.
Although the piece is convincing enough, there is an incontrovertible difference between online research and digging through musty old papers. There is a difference between electronic words and the printed page. Although I own a Kindle (lovingly given to me by my husband two Christmases ago) and appreciate it for its convenience, especially while traveling, I have downloaded very few digital books (and those have been mostly free). When I want to read, I don't automatically grab my Kindle. I search through the shelves of books in my office (lovingly built by my husband) and search for one that I can pick up, hold on to, turn the pages, and inhale the faint scent of "book" from. When I want to do scholarly research, study, or work without interruption, my first choice of venue is not in front of a monitor, it is the library archives or my own office, surrounded by books that I love within arms reach.
Although I agree with Gleick that digitization of articles is an advancement in scholarship and will make some types of research simpler and more cost effective, I do not agree that it is going to allow for more amazing discoveries than non-digital research. I think that those who genuinely enjoy research and digging through piles of dusty papers and books, those who enjoy turning the pages and closely observing the intricacies of the pages and penmanship, are who will make discoveries in ancient works. Their zeal and zest cannot be matched by the online researcher and that is what will make the difference.
"I cannot live without books."
— Thomas Jefferson
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