There’s a conversation going on over at Writer Site.  Blogger Luanne commented here on the Sunday Coze that she “will be really sad when humans no longer have actual books”. I agree. Bookstores are being replaced by a digital, portable, e-mailable, disposable, downloadable mash of content.

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Luanne recently had a poem published in the Antigonish Review, a print journal. That’s special. These days, most print versions have been cancelled if the electronic version is available on a website. Readers are choosing to read e-journals, especially students who would rather stand in line to use a library terminal than walk up a flight of stairs to get the paper copy.


There’s a growing concern among professors that students rely too heavily on e-documents and are now giving assignments specifically designed to direct students to print. Their collective statement: “Print is the doorway through which students enter a field in its broadest context, and understand the scope of the field. Electronic is how they find specific bits of information.”

My Hero. Romney Wordsworth.


So, let’s just have a brief word here. You, me and Luanne.

 She poses these questions:   

If the poem isn’t in an actual book or magazine, if it’s only in an e-book, does it really exist or does it fade out of the mind? Is it “over” too quickly? Will we no longer have actual books?

Watch this short fable. The Last Bookshop was filmed in bookstores around London and Kent and takes place in a dystopian future world without books. (I love the very obviously-placed Jasper Fforde titles.)


The future isn’t what it used to be. Or is it?

Toni 8/27/13

Eastern Kingbirds: Implications for Parenting. Or Then Again, Maybe Not. (Another 420 Character 9 Line Poem by Patty)

How to parent?

Eastern Kingbirds keep their kids dependent on them for a long-for-the-bird-world

7 weeks, so they only have the 1 brood.

So I think Wow. Super parents. But then I see them

–not called Tyrannus tyrannus for nothing–

beat insects to death then stuff them whole into their kids’ mouths,

and the Tiger-Mom edginess of this becomes too reminiscent of a parenting style

I’ve eschewed, on purpose.

A how-not-to.