Henrietta Hay's Column

Many years ago another librarian and I had a major battle one morning between the reference department and the American literature shelf. We are both long since retired from active librarianship, but the argument is still moot. She said that in a few years books would be irrelevant. Computers would take over the storage and dissemination of knowledge. I said, as politely as I could, that she was wrong. Books will never become obsolete.

Twenty years later, deep into the computer age, I am still convinced that while computers are an integral part of our lives, they will not replace books. I would even go so far as to say that computers will never replace people, although scientists working on artificial intelligence probably hope so. It is my theory that they tend to prefer the mechanical to the human.

A world without books would be almost like a world without sunshine. At the same time, as a long time computer nut, I would never give up my Power Mac without a fight. But books and computers are not enemies, nor are they interchangeable. Can't they co-exist peacefully?

A personal computer is a tool, a magical tool. Certainly it makes work easier and pleasanter for those of us who use it. With the advent of the Internet, it has added a whole new dimension in the storage and retrieval of data. It provides a rich source of information, along with great volumes of trivia.

When I want a piece of information I get to choose. I can look in my dictionary or the World Almanac or Bartlett's Familiar Quotations or some other book on my shelf; or I can get in the car and got to the Library to consult their reference collection; or I can spend the morning trying to find what I want on the Internet. It all depends on the kind of information I'm after. Sometimes I try all three and end up calling the state legislative office.

Certain types of information are becoming available only on the Internet, either on home computers or through special Library services. Legal documents, legislative records and regulations, pure information that changes rapidly. These are all much cheaper to produce and update by computer. Many magazines are now on line for a subscription fee. Perhaps you saw the cartoon in the Post recently showing a woman sitting in her easy chair with a cup of coffee at her side, cradling a computer in her lap and saying, "Finally, the ease and convenience of the on-line magazine."

But all this computerization does not take the place of books. The history of the world is recorded in books. The computer is several thousand years too late to play catch-up.

I like books. I like the feel of them and the rustle of them and what is inside them. My mind rebels at the thought of reading Keats' wonderful poetry off a computer screen. "Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard/ Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;" on screen simply wouldn't cut it. And imagine reading Plato's "Republic" or Thomas Paine's "Common Sense" on a screen surrounded by fancy computer icons.

My friend the philosopher says, "The best thing in my opinion about books is that they are truly portable. You don't need a power source; you don't need a filter to screen out daylight, although you might need a flashlight to read under the covers. They are lightweight. They are warm and pleasant to the touch, not cold and electronic." And the line is never busy. You can always get access.

Reading to children means reading well-thumbed books. My book loving philosopher friend added this scary picture. "I have this image of a loving mother reading "Good Night Moon" by the soft glow of the computer screen, her lullaby voice punctuated by the tapping of the keys and her sleepy child suddenly waking up with, 'Hey, let's play Super Mario." In children's literature let's stick to books.

Books and computers are here to stay. I'm all for enjoying both. It's time turn off the computer and get back to Sue Grafton's "M is for Malice."

The computer is a necessity today, but if I ever write a book, I want to see it in print and feel the paper between my fingers.