heir oldest treasures to a format more capable of producing stunningly flashy graphic images, razor-sharp sound bites, and sometimes morally and socially inappropriate MySpace-like “seminars”? There are definitely no easy answers to this provocative question, yet many are just starting to cope.

What it all comes down to is this: the Net may totally “liberate” the world from the most potent taboos of the publishing microcosm, or it may just not, as it always has. The ultimate truth is that we just don’t know what the future holds for those who love, and those who malnourish, the p

Illiteracy, as we know it, is one of the most profound problems our social, cultural, and even political stratosphere has ever faced. Less and less children nowadays are enthusiastic enough to pick up a simplistically manufactured stock of paper that opens them up to a world in which they can intricately and artistically interpret their own ideas upon. Moreover, the only people now willing to read in great numbers are very mature adults. Not surprisingly, this only increases the world’s all-important youth reading deficit. The saddest news of all, though, is that this grandly fundamental problem will only continue to accelerate at an adrenal pace in the not-so-distant post-modern future.

But there is some hope. In order to effectively adapt to an ever-changing world of techno-cultural habits, some of today’s biggest Internet and software providers are beginning to digitalize some of the world’s oldest literary works. Yet, the problem that comes along with this change is the fact that purism should play a significant role.

Most great stories can never make a successful leap into the digital age. Since many people are immediately thrust into worlds in their collective imagination, albeit “real” or “surreal,” it is still highly likely that they may not have the imminent audacity to read on such a photogenically sensitive LCD screen. Therefore, it is probably best to say that such explosively avid readers of the classics and the most popular works of culinary arts, poetry, mystery, and all too many other genres will continue to curl up on their armchairs like they’ve always done.

But there is a searing twist to some of these oldest of leisurely (and business-friendly) habits. Some who regularly prefer to read without those exceptionally annoying Net ads across the screen of the full-text pages on, say, Google can’t help but now register online for copies of their favorite “non-digital” books. The greatest twist is that these books are now digitalized, and they’re still willing to pick up the socio-cultural slack they’ve been enduring for all their lives. Online books are nothing new, but those tech-savvy enough in their day jobs as accountants, managers, sectaries, journalists, and, most noticeably enough, librarians, see the benefits as well as the challenges involved. However, what happens when they transfer their oldest treasures to a format more capable of producing stunningly flashy graphic images, razor-sharp sound bites, and sometimes morally and socially inappropriate MySpace-like “seminars”? There are definitely no easy answers to this provocative question, yet many are just starting to cope.

What it all comes down to is this: the Net may totally “liberate” the world from the most potent taboos of the publishing microcosm, or it may just not, as it always has. The ultimate truth is that we just don’t know what the future holds for those who love, and those who malnourish, the p

tal problem will only continue to accelerate at an adrenal pace in the not-so-distant post-modern future.

But there is some hope. In order to effectively adapt to an ever-changing world of techno-cultural habits, some of today’s biggest Internet and software providers are beginning to digitalize some of the world’s oldest literary works. Yet, the problem that comes along with this change is the fact that purism should play a significant role.

Most great stories can never make a successful leap into the digital age. Since many people are immediately thrust into worlds in their collective imagination, albeit “real” or “surreal,” it is still highly likely that they may not have the imminent audacity to read on such a photogenically sensitive LCD screen. Therefore, it is probably best to say that such explosively avid readers of the classics and the most popular works of culinary arts, poetry, mystery, and all too many other genres will continue to curl up on their armchairs like they’ve always done.

But there is a searing twist to some of these oldest of leisurely (and business-friendly) habits. Some who regularly prefer to read without those exceptionally annoying Net ads across the screen of the full-text pages on, say, Google can’t help but now register online for copies of their favorite “non-digital” books. The greatest twist is that these books are now digitalized, and they’re still willing to pick up the socio-cultural slack they’ve been enduring for all their lives. Online books are nothing new, but those tech-savvy enough in their day jobs as accountants, managers, sectaries, journalists, and, most noticeably enough, librarians, see the benefits as well as the challenges involved. However, what happens when they transfer their oldest treasures to a format more capable of producing stunningly flashy graphic images, razor-sharp sound bites, and sometimes morally and socially inappropriate MySpace-like “seminars”? There are definitely no easy answers to this provocative question, yet many are just starting to cope.

What it all comes down to is this: the Net may totally “liberate” the world from the most potent taboos of the publishing microcosm, or it may just not, as it always has. The ultimate truth is that we just don’t know what the future holds for those who love, and those who malnourish, the p

ir collective imagination, albeit “real” or “surreal,” it is still highly likely that they may not have the imminent audacity to read on such a photogenically sensitive LCD screen. Therefore, it is probably best to say that such explosively avid readers of the classics and the most popular works of culinary arts, poetry, mystery, and all too many other genres will continue to curl up on their armchairs like they’ve always done.

But there is a searing twist to some of these oldest of leisurely (and business-friendly) habits. Some who regularly prefer to read without those exceptionally annoying Net ads across the screen of the full-text pages on, say, Google can’t help but now register online for copies of their favorite “non-digital” books. The greatest twist is that these books are now digitalized, and they’re still willing to pick up the socio-cultural slack they’ve been enduring for all their lives. Online books are nothing new, but those tech-savvy enough in their day jobs as accountants, managers, sectaries, journalists, and, most noticeably enough, librarians, see the benefits as well as the challenges involved. However, what happens when they transfer their oldest treasures to a format more capable of producing stunningly flashy graphic images, razor-sharp sound bites, and sometimes morally and socially inappropriate MySpace-like “seminars”? There are definitely no easy answers to this provocative question, yet many are just starting to cope.

What it all comes down to is this: the Net may totally “liberate” the world from the most potent taboos of the publishing microcosm, or it may just not, as it always has. The ultimate truth is that we just don’t know what the future holds for those who love, and those who malnourish, the p

nally annoying Net ads across the screen of the full-text pages on, say, Google can’t help but now register online for copies of their favorite “non-digital” books. The greatest twist is that these books are now digitalized, and they’re still willing to pick up the socio-cultural slack they’ve been enduring for all their lives. Online books are nothing new, but those tech-savvy enough in their day jobs as accountants, managers, sectaries, journalists, and, most noticeably enough, librarians, see the benefits as well as the challenges involved. However, what happens when they transfer their oldest treasures to a format more capable of producing stunningly flashy graphic images, razor-sharp sound bites, and sometimes morally and socially inappropriate MySpace-like “seminars”? There are definitely no easy answers to this provocative question, yet many are just starting to cope.

What it all comes down to is this: the Net may totally “liberate” the world from the most potent taboos of the publishing microcosm, or it may just not, as it always has. The ultimate truth is that we just don’t know what the future holds for those who love, and those who malnourish, the p

heir oldest treasures to a format more capable of producing stunningly flashy graphic images, razor-sharp sound bites, and sometimes morally and socially inappropriate MySpace-like “seminars”? There are definitely no easy answers to this provocative question, yet many are just starting to cope.

What it all comes down to is this: the Net may totally “liberate” the world from the most potent taboos of the publishing microcosm, or it may just not, as it always has. The ultimate truth is that we just don’t know what the future holds for those who love, and those who malnourish, the portable thing we call the printed book.