I held my first eBook in 1998. It was the now defunct NuvoMedia Rocket eBook. And it was actually okay. But that was because it felt like a book. Sure, the screen was muddy, but the functionality and heft of it all seemed like a reasonable attempt at luring away the diehards. A good start, as far as I was concerned. Everything I liked about it though, was everything those ready to make the jump from the printed page hated. And about two years later, those same columnists who lauded the technology and predicted the last printed book would roll off the presses within five years, were now predicting the death of the eBook. Essentially, this is the reason I think books will be around for a long time. People who like to read novels are having a separate experience than they do when they read a newspaper, magazine, or textbook. And reading a book is different from having a certain taste in music. The experience of digital music is not a great leap, nor is downloading files as compared to putting them on a cassette or CD. Though the comparison is often made, the switch to digital music didn't involve a tremendous amount of relearning, and there is no essential change in how sound is being delivered to the end user. And while I know that my romanticized view is clouding my judgment a bit here, I also believe there is some basic truth to that. Even those of us who would consider throwing a book out or forget we've loaned one out have some kind of personal reading style and preference.
About the same time as the Rocket eBook arrived, Softbook put out their reader. And it had its own proprietary software. It was larger and more tablet-like, the screen was crisp, and it had a snazzy leather cover. But, it was clunky, felt like holding a notebook, and was definitely less book-lover friendly. Folks paused, tried to place it in a different market; picturing children carrying it in their backpacks full of textbooks, or businesspeople leaving their laptops home (though it wasn't much lighter, and was certainly less functional). Still, it had an internal modem and you could dial-up and download NY Times front page stories. That was kind of cool. And then came PDF (Adobe Glassbook Reader) and Open eBook standards. There was so much out there at once everyone felt it was just a matter of time before the eBook equivalent of the iPod would be created. And so began the frantic attempts to save final pass pages in every format imaginable so as not to miss the boat. What would become of books? How much longer would us bibliophiles be able to keep our phony-baloney jobs?
Two years later, I attended a special two-day eBook conference that piggybacked on the London Book Fair. In fact, I survived the 8-hour nicotine-free flight by reading three eBooks on my Palm (perfect for reading those books you would be embarrassed to be seen reading on the subway). It was a particularly interesting moment in publishing to be amongst the visibly twitchy printer sales reps and smirking technorati as, just prior to that Thursday, Stephen King had released an electronic-only version of Riding the Bullet. 
Within 24 hours, over 400,000 copies had been sold--an incredible number by any standards, never mind one that wasn't functional on basic Mac and UNIX platforms. It was announced that eBooks were here to stay, "unlike music downloads." And, all hell, as they say, had broken loose. At the conference the reps from Adobe, NuvoMedia, and other start-ups were cocky, as I remember, quintessentially ugly American. The European contingent looked on in awed amusement. They were fascinated with the technology, but they were still dealing with the fact that telephone service, never mind internet access, was still touch and go throughout most of Western Europe. Even the Germans shook their heads knowingly.
Back home, publishers continued the panic to get their entire backlists digitized. Lawsuits and legal wrangling about author contracts prior to electronic technology went to court in high-profile cases. Financial officers projected the losses. The big three, Random House, Simon & Schuster, and HarperCollins released their eBooks at the same prices as printed books. Electronic publishers popped up. I watched friends leave comfy print jobs for places like iPublish, one of the dozen start-ups that emerged (and at least they were a division of a real publisher); anyone could see their book in print (and anyone did, believe me, I copyedited most of them ...). Then the buzz turned to the collegiate market and textbooks; electronic texts with time-limited access; professional journals with links to exclusive online e-content. And that seemed to make sense for the market, but even that did not take off. Meanwhile, home DSL and cable connections, while becoming more commonplace in the U.S., remained unheard of luxuries in most of Western Europe--where even today the local internet cafe is generally a large B&N-style meeting ground and not the now retro-hip brick storefront style cafe you'll find in Brooklyn or the Lower East Side.
And then, nothing. Perhaps a blip from Japan now and then.
Six years later, the obsession and adoration of the iPod and digital music has generated new enthusiasm for the future of digital books. Buzz about Sony's Reader with E ink has renewed the chatter about the end of the printed page. I'm not convinced. These recent articles are reading very closely to those published a few years ago. Is the new technology cool? Absolutely. But will it change minds? I don't think this is the magic bullet yet. It's complicated, for me, professionally and personally. So, I'm perhaps not the best judge here. I still feel that the creators of this technology continue to miss the essential part of what it means to read, and until they figure out how to translate that universally, I don't think the end of the printed page is coming anytime soon. I understand (and embrace) the evolution of technology, but suppose I am too close to the process to see it any other way. Too in love with the tactile experience of books. But always, curiouser and curiouser.
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