Jamming these two items into a single post is artificial, but I couldn’t resist juxtaposing electronic publishing with Sanskrit.
1. Isaac Asimov once wrote an essay (“The Ancient and the Ultimate”, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, January 1973) demonstrating that the ideal futuristic book would be a codex printed on paper,
Nowadays one can, of course, read documents on a computer screen. I spend a lot of time doing that perforce at the office, though I often cheat and make printouts, particularly if I want to formulate comments or expect to page back and forth between sections. For more important reading, the computer is not a mixed, but an incomplete blessing. I can download thousands of public domain books free from Project Gutenberg or conveniently packaged for a nominal fee from B&R Samizdat Express. Electronic versions of volumes in copyright are available from Fictionwise and many other on-line retailers. Thus my computer can hold as large a library as my bookcases. Unfortunately, there are many times and places where one can’t get use it. I should not care to boot up even a small laptop on the El.
The obvious solution is a small footprint, lightweight device stripped of all functions beyond reading e-books. My PalmPilot sort of fits that niche, except that it is a little too small: The screen displays only a handful of words, and my aging eyes grow weary of squinting at the minuscule type. From time to time, handier alternatives came to the periphery of my attention, but only a couple of weeks ago did I purchase one, an eBookwise-1150, offered by an eponymous Fictionwise subsidiary for $129.95.
The eBw-1150 has its kludgey aspects, most notably its elderly software (written for Windows 98 and not greatly updated since). It is not, I’m confident, what I’ll be using five years from now. Indeed, superior products already on the market may have failed to call my attention to themselves. Too bad for them; Emerson was quite wrong about better mousetraps. Nonetheless, despite its occasional flaws, I’ve swiftly grown fond of this gadget. It’s no harder to read while swaying on the El than a trade paperback and supports enough formats (not including PDF, alas) that I can figure out ways to get any electronically formatted text into its memory. All of the books that I’ve purchased from Fictionwise are readily transferable. Others can be downloaded using either a free service that I wasn’t able to make work properly or a $14.95 software add-on.
At the moment, I have in memory the last two issues each of Analog and Asimov’s, an issue of F&SF, seven Hugo Award short fiction nominees that I haven’t yet read and need to finish before the July 8th voting deadline, the first volume of A. H. Bullen’s collection of Elizabethan and Jacobean plays, James Branch Cabell’s Gallantry, and three books that come with the device (A Princess of Mars, The Time Machine and “The Fall of the House of Usher”). That pretty much fills up the available 8MB of memory. More can be added with Smart Media cards (of which I have a collection, since my digital camera uses them), but that isn’t really necessary; it’s easy enough to swap between e-book and computer.
There are plenty of improvements that I’d like to see. It would be nice, for instance, to be able to display pages from two different parts of a volume at the same time (main text and footnotes or pertinent illustrations), and I’m starting to think that the 8 to 10 hour battery life is woefully insufficient. Oh, well, this particular technological application is in its primitive stages. Twenty years from now, I may think that Dr. Asimov was as wrong-headed about the future of the book as he was about daylight saving time (4/7/02).
2. Not modern or high-tech at all, but fascinating and decades overdue is a project, inspired, I suppose, by India’s increasing visibility on the world scene, called the Clay Sanskrit Library. Its aim is to publish new translations of Sanskrit classics in Loeb-type editions, with English and (transliterated) Sanskrit on facing pages. A hundred volumes are projected, including complete modern versions of the Mahabhárata and Ramáyana as well as other famous (Shakúntala and The Birth of Kumára) and lesser known (The Emperor of the Sorcerors and What Ten Young Men Did) classics of Indian literature.
Since Sanskrit was not inscribed on tablets, I presume that “Clay” is the surname of a benefactor who otherwise modestly chooses not to be acknowledged. He may be the “C” in the “JJC Foundation” that is listed as co-publisher with the New York University Press. The only such organization that I can find is the Joliet Junior College Foundation, doubtless a worthy enterprise but probably not the one involved here.
Having procured a couple of volumes, I have dipped into What Ten Young Men Did (Daśakumāracarita by Dandin), a seventh century novel recounting the wanderings of an exiled prince and nine loyal followers in tales that combine fantasy, eroticism, political satire and coming-of-age angst. It’s very different from what Europeans were writing in the same time frame. If we must be multicultural, works like this are a better starting point than anti-colonialist screeds.
Further reading: Bjørn Stærk, “In Reluctant Defense of E-Books”