Well, Mr. Eggers, you've convinced me of one thing: print media is dying for a reason.
Two weeks ago, I would have argued vehemently against such a statement. I was so excited for The Panorama that I started asking around for it in stores two days before it was due to be released. I love physical books. I love history. I love design. I love collecting. I love craftsmanship. I love Chabon's writing so much that I would literally marry him. I love a lot of things that come from The Mission. How could I not be stoked for this high quality, cutting edge, throwback, one-time-only, publishing event!
On the morning of December 8th it was in the low 30s, and I walked out of my way to swing by the hawker at 18th and Castro whose coming had been foretold by a custom googlemap. Fail. I went out at lunch to find one at the Ferry Building Farmers Market, figuring that the uncustomary cold had kept all the hipster hawkers in their beds. Fail. I tried the local independent bookstore instead: $16. Fail. I dropped by the Little Otsu mothership after work: out of stock, but we may have more copies tomorrow. Fail. In a last ditch attempt, I tried Otsu again this morning: we're sold out, but the pirate shop across the way should have some. Closed. FAIL!
So what exactly has The Panorama publishing event taught me? Print media can be almost impossible to get one's grubby little paws on, even when one is in the loop, motivated, and living near the epicenter of its creation. Distribution channels are inefficient or broken outright. Cost is prohibitive. Supply and demand don't match. Access to its ideas, art, design, and data is inherently limited. However wonderful The Panorama is, I still have not been able to read it. And that's not effective communication . . . or art.
Contrast this to a blog, or even a message board community. Eater keeps me up to date on restaurants and tiki bars opening in my neighborhood. Slickdeals tells me where I should be shopping. Daily Kos updates me on legislation while debates are raging and votes are counted. My Facebook network lets me know about protests, shows, music, news, and the like, all with a filter for personal relevance. All in all, the web -- both one and two point oh -- offers abundant information, open access, and customizable content. And I can get at all of this anywhere from the couch on my iPod Touch to an insert-cash-to-browse terminal at a hostel in Joburg.
Of course I don't think that print media has to be so over-hyped, over-priced, and artificially scarce. Leaflets, pamphlets, books, comics, subway ads, and even newspapers can be smart, egalitarian, relevant, and worthwhile. The value of having 150 of the country's leading talents devote five months to create a publication that only the most elite in-the-know of the in-the know crowd with cash burning a hole in their pockets can access, collect, and later sell to each other as a collector's item somewhat eludes me. If this is America's best effort to showcase and revive newspapers, we'll be moving towards a newspaperless society even more quickly than I could have imagined.
