In the house where I grew up, we had a room we called the library. It wasn't a real library, of course, it was just a small room dominated by a television set. But there were bookshelves built into all four walls, and hundreds of book — hardback books of many colors — surrounded us in that room. The books, collected by my parents and grandparents throughout their lifetimes, were a part of my childhood.

But in the 1970s, I'm noticing a worrying trend: a move away from books. American homes might soon lack dedicated spaces for libraries, and hardcover books, once symbols of enduring thought and wisdom, may become endangered.

A friend who owns a bookstore in a college town tells me he struggles to sell hardback books; paperbacks, though easier to sell, still disappoint him. Students, once seen with books, now carry music records. Reading seems to be giving way to listening. Recent observations support this shift: the University of Illinois reported that a significant portion of freshmen have reading skills no better than an average eighth grader, with many of these students having been top performers in high school.

University professors note that even college graduates struggle with reading and writing. The cultural impact of this change is evident. A successful fiction book might sell a mere 3,000 copies, while a music album by a new band, Boston, has sold millions. This reflects our passive consumption era, where listening to music or watching shows requires little active engagement, unlike reading a book, which demands effort and intent.

In the past, reading was a fundamental part of life, but now, in the era of fast information access, books are losing their significant place. Today's young Americans are more likely to read a disposable paperback than to cherish and reread a hardcover. In a society that values speed and convenience, the book for keeping and rereading is a weighty dinosaur.