Books, Babies, and A Fuzzy Crystal Ball

We have a new twig on our family tree, so I spent part of yesterday afternoon shopping online for a baby gift.

I haven’t paid attention to the baby scene for years and I have no idea what’s trendy, what’s passé, what’s useful, or what will end up at the Goodwill in short order. My ignorance meant that I was easily wowed—by Peruvian handmade mobiles, vintage fabric blankies, BPA-free bottles, animal-shaped rattles each designed to elicit a specific behavior or reaction from infants. And then the line of lullabies based on the music of popular bands like The Cure. (Really? I wanted to buy this CD just to hear for myself how the music was arranged. Other CDs included The Beatles, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, and Coldplay.)

But even after all my browsing and ooh-ing and ah-ing, I still felt compelled to send the new little soul the same gift I’ve always given to our youngest Earthlings: a book. Typically, an alphabet book.

This makes perfect sense when you consider the fanaticism the gift-giver (me!) has for books. And I take care to purchase books of such quality that they could become keepsakes. However, we’re not only in a new century now but in a new publishing era as well. I don’t have a clear view of the future. How will my intended keepsake be viewed 25 years from now by the next digital generation? As an obsolete waste of paper? A treasured relic? I’m hoping for at least hipster cool—so “out” it’s “in.”

This, then, may be the future of the book—a collector’s item. Talked about affectionately by older generations who recall the smell and heft and texture of favorite tomes. Discussed among antique dealers and their clientele as investments and commodities. Viewed as dust-catchers by nonreaders, noncollectors, and digital zealots.

I’m okay with that. But before it becomes a collectible, I hope my baby gift helps cultivate a reader.