All Hail the Bookless Library

Frank Moldstad is the only 50-something at a west coast digital marketing firm comprised almost entirely of 20-somethings. This is the ongoing story of his travails....

The most horrifying thing has happened. Faced with severe budget crunches, our local library system has announced that it is getting rid of all its books. Instead, the library board is planning "bookless" branches where paper books and other physical media can be ordered and picked up. The main room in each branch is being expanded around a central fireplace, where people can browse the catalog electronically and access free WiFi.

"That's like having a bookstore with no books," I say to my cube-mate Evelyn. "What's the point? Might as well just go to Amazon."

"Well, duh," she says.

I was assuming Evelyn — or any sensible person — would agree with me. But her response is surprising.

"It's about time," she adds.

"What do you mean?" I gasp. "Without books, it's not a library."

"Of course it is," she says. "I never use the library to check out a book. But it's a good place to spend an afternoon chilling with an iPad."

"Why not just go to Starbucks?" I wonder.

"I do that, too, but the library has a lot of cool e-books that you can download," she says. "You should try it."

Maybe I should. After all, the incentive for the all-digital library might be budget gaps, but it's really more like a generation gap. This is an aha moment. Why should I fight the inevitable, and be consigned to the scrap heap of history along with buggy whip makers and video rental stores?

"Do you think the iPad is better than a Kindle?" I ask Evelyn. This is a dumb question to ask a Mac zealot like Evelyn.

"Of course it is!" she says. "There's no comparison."

"Well, maybe I'll go buy an iPad at lunch today," I say.

Little do I know what a momentous statement this is. At noon, I'm getting ready to go out when half a dozen people descend on the cubicle.

"Sorry, I texted a few people that you were getting an iPad," Evelyn says. "Would it be OK if we come with you?"

"Sure, but why?" I ask.

"It's like watching history!" says Ringo, one of our salespeople. Everyone laughs, including me.

We head out the door, on a mission. I am about to become a 21st Century renaissance man. I am briefly tempted to stop into Border's bookstore on the way, because they're having a going out of business sale. But I resist. I have an appointment with the future.