What do you think?
Rate this book


The ground beneath the book publishing industry dramatically shifted in 2007, the year the Kindle and the iPhone debuted. Widespread consumer demand for these and other devices has brought the pace of digital change in book publishing from "it might happen sometime" to "it’s happening right now"—and it is happening faster than anyone predicted.
Yet this is only a transitional phase. Book: A Futurist’s Manifesto is your guide to what comes next, when all books are truly digital, connected, and ubiquitous. Through this collection of essays from thought leaders and practitioners, you'll become familiar with a wide range of developments occurring in the wake of this digital book shakeup:
* Discover new tools that are rapidly transforming how content is created, managed, and distributedWith Book: A Futurist's Manifesto, we at O’Reilly Media are actively practicing what we preach. Written and edited on PressBooks.com, a new web-based book-production system, this book also invites reader feedback throughout its development. Read the initial chapters and tell us where you’d like to go next. Are there topics you would like us to explore? Are there areas you want to go more in-depth? Let us know!
318 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2011
To illustrate that point, I want to bring you to perhaps the most hierarchical, inaccessible, closed environment I know of: an American public high school. In particular, I’d like to take you to Columbia High School in Maplewood, New Jersey, where our youngest son, Charlie, is a student. The school opened in 1927, and it has not changed much since then.
Last summer, Charlie was happy to learn that he had earned a 5 on the AP Art History exam. This made him eligible to serve as a sort of teaching assistant for this year’s Art History class. All he needed to do was align his free period with the scheduled slot for Art History.
I don’t know how many of you have tried to parse a high-school scheduling API. It seems to rely on green-screen devices, stacks of forms, and a queueing process that means you won’t have your new schedule in hand until two weeks after the start of the school year.
On a Friday in July, Charlie came home to find his junior-year schedule in the mail. His free period did not align. Charlie has seen his brother and sister fight the powers that be at Columbia High School, at times unsuccessfully, and he decided to pursue a different course.
Lacking access to the master schedule, he went to a free resource—Facebook—posted his schedule there, and asked anyone who attended Columbia High School to do the same.
By Sunday morning, he had gathered enough data to compile his own master schedule. With this information in hand, he rearranged his classes, filled out a home-made “change form”, and sent it to the high school on Monday morning. “Please give me this schedule,” it said. Problem solved.
Stories like this one … have led me to see piracy as the consequence of a bad API. 16-year-olds expect access, or they invent it.
Content is no longer just a product. It’s part of a value chain that solves readers’ problems. Readers expect publishers to poin them to the outcomes or answers they want, where and when they want them. We’re interested in content solutions that don’t waste our time, a precious commodity for all of us.
Readers expect that their content solutions will improve over time. They don’t care that much (or at all) about how it happens.