The Physical Fitness of Content

Hey, sexy. Wanna get physical?

No, no, I don’t want to make out with you (though that new haircut really is stunning).

I’m just wondering if you’d rather have the game / program / book / magazine / newspaper / CD / DVD you’re about to buy in some sort of physical form, or if you’re okay with it existing as an anonymous file, virtually invisible to you until you fire it up on your electronic device of choice.

Does it matter? Do you even need an object, a concrete manifestation of your entertainment or information?

Is it necessary to have a physical connection to the things you consume? 

More and more the answer is, apparently, no.

Tony Bartel, president of video game retailer GameStop, recently noted that “our customers are beginning to consume games in a hybrid manner, both physical and digital, so we are becoming a hybrid company to meet their needs.” Apple may do away with physical packaging of software for good with its Mac App Store, something it’s already accomplished in the mobile space. Stieg Larsson’s “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” just sold its millionth copy in digital format, according to publisher Knopf. Rupert Murdoch has placed a multi-million dollar bet on his digital-only Daily; the New York Times recently introduced digital subscriptions.

So do you need to hold it in your hands to enjoy it?

Myself, I’m torn. For many of the above items, I don’t care. I don’t need to own the pretty shrink-wrapped box or the disc that came in it to appreciate the product. For me, in many cases, the lack of an object is preferable—less junk for the landfill.

Take music. I’ve been a decades-long fan and there are thousands of vinyl LPs and several bookcases of CDs clogging my basement, but I haven’t bought an album or a disc for the last three years. Everything I acquire these days is MP3, streaming over wifi to the stereo, and I look at my groaning shelves and wince. What else could I do with all that space?

I’ll admit to a tiny twinge of nostalgia for the spinning records of days gone by, and I almost agreed with hairball idiot Jon Bon Jovi when he said a while back that “kids today have missed the whole experience of putting the headphones on . . . holding the jacket, closing their eyes and getting lost in an album.” But no way would I trade my iTunes library for a few artsy photos and a couple of flimsy squares of cardboard. Plus, records get scratched.

Forget CDs, too, which were always just a cash-cow juggernaut for the music industry. Thankfully, they’re now on their way out to pasture. I laughed when indie rock darlings Girls recently tweeted their disdain for the format: “[Screw] you CDs. You damage easily, take up too much space, are wasteful and sound like [poop]. What’s next?” I totally agree.

However, there is one area where I will forever resist App-ification: the printed word. For me, I’ll always want the printed word to be a physical experience.

Call me old-fashioned, or maybe just old (HEY! YOU KIDS GET OFF MY LAWN!), but I truly enjoy being surrounded by the precarious stacks of books and magazines I’ve read. The fact that they take up so much space is one of the best parts—the very volume makes me feel smarter, I guess.

And sometimes when I glance around the room, I catch a title from the corner of my eye or glimpse the jacket art and I’m instantly transported back into the world of that specific book. I’m not sure a list of files would provoke the same reaction.

The digitization of print nonetheless continues apace. Amazon has just released an ad-supported Kindle that costs a little more than a hundred bucks. The New York Times has instituted an E-Book Bestseller list to better reflect the marketplace. Google continues relentlessly adding titles to its digital database—15 million and counting so far, despite its recent court setbacks.

But for me, no electronic wizardry will ever improve on the dead tree edition. Yes, in this case I do wanna get physical. I like the feel, I like the scent, I like the sensuality of the printed word.

Almost as much as I like your hair, actually.

Maybe we could get together later and, uh, read?

Related articles

• Death To The Shiny Disc: Time To Go All-Digital (paidcontent.org)
• Just One More Year Until Digital Music Beats Physical CD Sales (techland.time.com)