There are those who moan, oh, Shakespeare wouldn’t have written all those wonderful plays for us to “modern update” if he’d had Angry Birds and Darklady.com. Is it so terrible, here in the 21st century? A sonnet is perfect Tumblr-length, and given the persistent debates over the authorship of his work, the bard would have benefited from modern, cutting-edge identity theft protection. The old masters didn’t even have freaking penicillin. I think Nietzsche would have endured non-BCC’d e-mail dispatches in exchange for pills to de-spongify his syphilitic brain, and we can all agree Virginia Woolf could’ve used a scrip for serotonin reuptake inhibitors. I digress. The Internet is not to blame for your unfinished novel: you are. People write novels in prison, for chrissakes.
Colson Whitehead, Better Than Renting Out a Windowless Room: The Blessed Distraction of Technology, Publishers Weekly
PS: Whitehead, by the way, is possibly that best Twitterer in the WWW (Whole Wide World, not World Wide Web.).
I certainly bought a few to read while I travelled during the holidays, but no online store right now has ALL the books I want in digital format and I’m getting impatient.
A similar tale at Barnes and Noble: their online store experienced an uptick in business, even as sales at their brick-and-mortar stores slumped.