Do books have to come from trees?

When my wife and I moved to Chicago last year we downsized our living space and added another human to the family.  A lot of books now lie ignominiously in my parents' basement.  But what if space wasn't an issue?  What if you could have all the books you could ever want in your home?  I see two options.  Either increase the space to put books or decrease the size of the books.

The first option isn't feasible for our family or for those whose last names aren't Gates, Zuckerberg, or Ochocinco.  The second option is much more doable.  You can own books that exist as 1s and 0s in their most elemental form and thus take up no physical space whatsoever (not counting the storage device).  Amazon's Kindle and the iPad and other technologies have made ebooks mainstream, accessible, and hip.  One can store a whole library in a device that fits in a (man)purse.  And no trips to the bookstore.  Instant downloads of virtually every book anyone's heard of, many of them, particularly older ones, free of charge.

We own a Pandigital Novel, which in price and quality is like a poor man's iPad.  Hence our nickname for it, the PoorPad.  Still, it's a decent machine.  The touchscreen isn't as magically responsive as an iPad, but for flipping electronic pages it gets the job done.  Last year I read Ted Kluck's Hello, I Love You:  Adventures in Adoptive Fatherhood on the PoorPad right before the climax of our own adoption adventure in Uganda.  I've also made it my medium of choice for the online theological journal Themelios.  Toria's also read a few books on it.  Overall, it's a good reading experience.  The battery life isn't so great (which isn't a problem with better devices) but I enjoy it nonetheless.  The only reason I haven't read more books on it is that I've been reading library books or books I've received as gifts for various occasions.

Who knows, maybe in a few years I'll look back on print books like I do today on beepers and gimmicky electronic back massagers from Brookstone.  I'll tell my kids, "You young 'uns don't know what it was like.  We used to read on something called paper.  And some people wore skinny jeans.  Now where's my lightsaber?"

But, I confess, there's something about a paper book that I don't think an ebook can ever replace.  Al Mohler, president of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, wrote back in December 2009:

There is something special about most books and the experience of reading them. The physical reality of the book, including its cover, paper, typeface, and design are part of its charm. Books are wonderful to behold, to sense, to hold, and ultimately to read. As a technology, books have survived the test of time. They do not need batteries, they hold up well with a minimum of maintenance, and, unlike a computer, they never crash. Books are almost perfect as a combination of design and purpose. Who could ask for more?

But then he answers his question:

I do. The printed book is superior to almost every imaginable technology in any number of respects, but not in all. The digital revolution has reached the world of books, and things are forever changed. I was an early adopter of the Kindle, Amazon.com’s almost iconic electronic reader. My first Kindle was bought soon after the technology became available. I purchased a few books and intended the Kindle to operate as a supplement to my library of printed books. I did not expect to spend much time with it, but I saw the advantage of instantly-available books that could be carried in my briefcase by the hundreds.

Read the whole post (which was written a few months prior to the release of the first iPad).  And this from a man with the largest personal library I've ever seen (alas, the video of his library tour is no longer public).  I heard a rumor back in college that he sleeps 3 hours a night and reads 20 books a week.  Some estimates put his collection at 30,000 volumes.

One day, Edwards family.  One day.