An unremarked consequence of our new information age—one that will influence readers, writers, and publishers in the future—is that bad writing, chat speak, text, millions of message board posts that come from and lead nowhere, are having a cheapening effect on all written content. Editors and news directors today fret about the Internet as their predecessors worried about radio and TV, and all now see the huge threat the Web represents to the way they distribute their product.
The idea that the practice and craft of writing can simply retool itself for the digital age overlooks the fact that the Web is giving rise to totally unique forms of expression, a writing that is different from the kind traditionally found in books.
For lovers of literary writing, who are now watching the marketplace and Internet erode the remains of nineteenth-century print culture, these assurances may not be particularly consoling. We have no choice but to accept them. Arguing against the forces of digitalization is as much a losing battle as cursing the coming of the evening tide.
But before we invest ourselves too deeply in this future, consider this: If new technologies expose the biases inherent in print and text, so the converse is true as well. Coding skills are highly marketable in the twenty-first century. We, as a civilization, are duty-bound to encourage technological know-how.
However, before we make the mistake of convincing ourselves that a knack for writing software is more valuable than the ability to simply write well, we might consider looking anew at the souvenir that is the book. One day, computer programs—these objects of our fascination and frustration—will learn to write themselves. And we’ll be left with our ideas, however grand or shallow.
