Danny Bloom
I seek the truth wherever it lies.

It’s time to think about the slow death of ‘snailpapers,’ those beloved print newspapers of yore

The likelihood is that if you are reading this blog post you are online.

Though some countries have to some extent bucked the trend of declining newspaper circulation, my bet is 20 years from now it will be the same story worldwide as everywhere else. The daily”snailpaper” is on its way out.

“Snailpaper,” you say. What’s that?

Well, following on from the idea of calling post that is written on a piece of paper and physically carried from one destination to another, snail mail, we may have arrived at a point in history where we must start talking about the newspaper in the past tense by giving it a new name “the snailpaper.” I coined it a few years ago in an idle moment. Google it.

And just for a moment, log off this digital plaform and find your local print newspaper if you can find one and sit down and read it for ten minutes. Then come back here. I will be waiting for you!

So I encourage you to pick up a newspaper, savor the feel of natural fibers, enjoy the rustling sound as you turn a page, press your nose to the newsprint and wallow in its inky tones. Savor this multi-sensory reading experience, as it fades away, like print news papers themselves.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the old-fashioned newspaper and we must do all we can to preserve it. Calling it a snailpaper might serve some small purpose, even if it is as a historical footnote to the slow death of what we all once loved and cherished.

But you know, we are all already immersed in screens, connected 24-7 and at a loss for what to do without such screeny devices. I call the act of reading on a screen, as you are doing now, as “screening.”

Think of this short blog post as an opportunity to pause for a moment and if not smell the roses, inhale a little newsprint, before it’s gone forever.

About the Author
Danny Bloom is editor of The Cli-Fi Report at www.cli-fi.net. Danny graduated from Tufts University in Boston in 1971 with a major in Yiddish Literature. A newspaper editor and reporter since his days in Alaska, Japan and Taiwan, he has lived and worked in 14 countries and speaks French, Japanese and Chinese. He hopes to live until 2032, when his tombstone will read "I came, I saw, I ate cho-dofu."