The conventional thinking in the publishing world is that newspapers, books, and magazines will soon all be produced and distributed electronically. No more inky fingers; everything will be on a Kindle, an iBook, or whatever the latest high-tech delivery system is. I think daily newspapers may indeed be in trouble, but I’m not so sure magazines as we know them are going to disappear. In fact, if I were a betting man, I’d put money on the status quo.
I’m reminded of this as I hold the Summer issue of Northern Woodlands in my hands, more specifically, as I look at Alex Wild’s ridiculously cool photo of an ant eating the elaiosome off a bloodroot seed that’s blown across pages 34 and 35. You can see the picture I’m talking about on our website, but the experience of seeing it in print can’t be replicated. Same, too, for the rest of the magazine, which we’ll trickle onto the web over the coming months.
I guess I have problems buying into the futurists’ vision of an e-world because it seems to me that humans crave more than raw efficiency. Yes, it may be tidier to read several magazines from a stock template on one glowing, plastic, electronic screen, just as we’d all save a lot of time if we just took our meals in Powerbar form or by drinking Ensure. But this seems to overlook a lot of the subtle pleasures of the human experience.
Part of the allure of magazines is the excitement you get when you open your mailbox and find that your copy has arrived. That feeling of anticipation you get while thumbing through things for an initial look – maybe on your porch, with an after-work drink in hand, or with a cup of coffee and the morning light. The way each issue of each magazine has its own aesthetic, its own personality. How a magazine – whether it’s Northern Woodlands or Field & Stream or The New Yorker – sits on your coffee table or nightstand or the back of your toilet and reflects something about you, a design element that brings the house together as much as the kind of tree you plant in the front yard or the art you hang on the wall.
This line of thinking is philosophically akin to the idea that a complete album from a band you love is more substantive and special than downloading a single. In other words, a good magazine is the sum of its parts, not just a part. It’s the synthesis of a thousand different things – the labor that writers and artists put into their prose and images, the interplay of words and design, the thought that goes into the way it’s assembled. It’s the fact that for your money you’ve received a tangible product. Something you can pass onto your friends, keep on your bookshelf, or tear favorite stories out of to give to your grandkids.
I can’t see this going away. Yes, this is my business so maybe I’m nearsighted. But I just can’t see a critical mass of humanity giving up these experiences.
If you’re a reader of this e-newsletter but not a subscriber to Northern Woodlands, sign up today and we'll get a copy of the Summer issue in the mail for you. You’ll find stories on muskrats, bats, and fungi that glow in the dark. There’s an illuminating (and really funny) piece on scientific names; the aforementioned gorgeous piece on ants; the story of the rise and fall of the Brown Paper Company told through the voices of the loggers and mill workers who built Berlin, New Hampshire; a story that, when you’re done reading it, will enable you to explain to anyone who’ll listen why certain two-by-fours at the lumberyard look like propellers; and about 30 other things I could go on and on about.
By buying a subscription, you’re supporting our organization and the cause of land conservation and forest stewardship in the Northeast. By patronizing our advertisers, you’re supporting our tribe. And if your magazine falls into the toilet, give us a call and we’ll send you a fresh copy free of charge. Try doing that with Apple if your iPad suffers a similar fate.
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