Reader’s transformation, writer’s worries

No one now soaks their pillow in tears reading stories or novels as before. Now eyes are fixed on the TV or on the screen of a mobile phone held in the palm. Who bothers to wander through colourful fantasy by reading black and white letters? One writer says to another, “What’s the point of writing so much, brother, no one reads those things.”

Recently, both writers and publishers have been blaming the readers. Their complaint is that readers have now become so addicted to mobile phones that they no longer have time to read books. Suppose someone starts reading a story or a novel. They are enjoying it; but to experience full pleasure they have to create an imagined image of the characters in the story or novel in their mind, arranging visual scenes in their head to understand the surroundings. Not everyone’s power of perception is the same, so each person imagines those pictures differently after reading the same book. The intensity of emotion in the content also changes with the sharpness of their feelings. This means that to taste the nectar of that story, they have to burn a lot of mental fuel.

On the other hand, when that story or novel is transformed into a film or a visual drama, readers with different feelings and perceptions are watching it in the same way, though their analysis and judgement may differ. There is no need to rack one’s brain over what the characters in the story or novel looked like, their age, their clothing, or what was around them. As a result, it is able to attract and entertain people very easily. Consequently, day by day, readers are turning their faces away from books and leaning towards audio-visual media.

That may be the case for stories or novels; but poetry? Why do readers not want to read poetry? Imagine, it is pouring outside. A reader feels it would not be bad to read some poems about the monsoon at such a time; but which book, where in it are monsoon poems, and how long will it take to find them? And how many poetry books does he have in his collection anyway? The next moment he thinks—why bother? Just search for “monsoon poems” on Google or YouTube. The moment he types and searches, hundreds of monsoon poems appear on the mobile screen. No, which one to read from these? Better to search again with “best rain poem or song in Bengali,” and the best monsoon poems or songs appear.

Along with that, videos of recitations in the melodious voices of reciters. For the comfort of the eyes, the reader finally chooses the video. Poetry remains unread; even if it is read, only by one or two people; but the poetry books that were bought remain on the shelf. As dust gathers on them, one day when a hand touches them, it is seen that silverfish have eaten some of the pages and letters. The reader, once called a “bookworm” by family members, is now the prey of real bookworms. Without being read, the books have been destroyed in the book carton by insects and cockroaches! They now have to be thrown into the rubbish heap.

In modern times, readers can taste and enjoy stories, novels and poems from digital platforms—but is it possible to read essays or scientific articles in the same way? Even there, today’s readers have had all the windows of the world opened before them by Google. How much they see through which window is a matter of their personal choice, interest and effort. Suppose a writer, now acting as a reader, is looking for material for their writing, the subject being history or science, the environment or nature. Once the subject is chosen, searching specifically on it will open thousands of websites or pages before the eyes.

In that case, the reader has to find the needed part by reading through them. It is like going to the market to shop. In the world of free information, there is an abundance of data. It is difficult for the buyer to verify what is fake and what is genuine. One has to buy only what one needs or likes. Then after bringing those goods home, they are processed and cooked into delicious food. Not everyone will like or eat that food. A writer has to do the same. Just as masons need to know how much sand to mix with how much cement to make a solid building, a writer must know how much of which ingredient to mix in their writing to make it palatable. The style of writing is each person’s own.

In the past, if someone was asked about their hobby, at least some would say—reading books. With the change of times, it seems hobbies have also transformed. I will not say that the habit of reading has declined; I say that reading books has declined. For this reason, publishers are no longer willing to print books. One day, while sitting with the eminent publisher Mostafa Selim in his office, this came up in conversation. My claim is that people now read fewer books, and that is why fewer books are being sold. He agreed. Book sales have dropped significantly. It can take 18 to 20 years for a prominent author’s book to sell out after its first print run.

If it is a new author, the problem is even greater, as readers do not easily pick up the books of unfamiliar writers. If readers do not pick up the writings of newcomers, will they never become authors? Whether a writer is new or established, known or unknown, the cost per form of printing is almost the same. If the book does not sell, how will publishers survive? This is the crisis in Bangladesh’s publishing world now. As many books used to come out on average before, now books are released selectively; there are some readers of creative books, and there are writers too. The crisis is essentially the lack of sales.

Then there is the matter of book prices, quality, piracy, and the nuisance of photocopying. Due to the lack of sufficient readers or buyers in many districts and sub-district towns across the country, many bookshops have now turned into restaurants. The trend of this era shows that people now eat more than they read—so food shops do more business than bookshops. Some publishers survive by supplying or selling books to a few institutions. That number can be counted on one’s fingers. No country’s publishing can survive by relying only on institutional supply; the publishing world survives on readers—readers are the strength of reading, the encouragement of publishers.

One day, while talking with ornithologist Enam Ul Haque about publishing, he said that in the United States, no book is printed in fewer than 50,000 copies. One must be envious of the luck of some authors. On July 21, 2007, the final instalment of JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, was released. Its American publisher, Scholastic, sold 8.3 million copies within 24 hours of its release day. In our country, some books have print runs of only 200 copies—and even then, take ten years to sell. Many books published here sell on average only one copy a month.

Many may say—if the state of book publishing here is so dire, then why were 3,299 new books published at the 2025 Book Fair, and who were the more than 700 publishers who came? If there is a crisis in publishing, if readers are turning away from books, then how books worth Tk 20 crore were sold in just one month of the book fair? The logic is hard to match. There is much cleverness and spectacle in publishing now.

Even when publishers bear all production costs, many writers complain they do not receive royalties for their writings, nor do they get accurate accounts of sales; sometimes, even if a second edition is printed, the author is unaware. Some publishers take more money from certain writers than the cost of printing and then print their book—or compel them to buy a fixed number of copies. These are no longer secrets; many know, and many new writers even admit it, happy at the thought that a book of theirs is coming out at this year’s fair, and that they have entered the ranks of authors. But writers should also think—more important than publishing a book is creating readers; readers will decide who is and is not an author.

Many of the world’s famous authors gained fame from just one or two books. English writer Bertha Wood, pioneer of the holiday camp movement, began writing a book at the age of 90. Though not a professional writer, her “Fresh Air and Fun” was published on her 100th birthday in 2005. It was her first and last book. So, to become a writer, quality writing and subject matter are more important than age.

A large portion of readers are young people; many in the older generation also like to spend their leisure reading. Many young people are now more accustomed to reading on mobile devices and through modern digital means than to reading books. Mostafa Selim says—so what’s the problem? People are reading; many no longer read printed newspapers as before, they read newspapers floating in the air. Why should this generation miss the convenience and reach of such an opportunity? The reading habit remains—only its form has changed. If the habit of reading remains, then where is the problem in publishing books? Why are publishers no longer willing to print as before?

It is natural that readers will transform along with technology. At one time we were thrilled to read Dasyu Bonhur printed on letterpress. Now, unless we see beautifully printed, aesthetically designed, and illustrated books from offset presses, we are not satisfied. Book marketing has also transformed. The online book trade has flourished. Any book published at home or abroad can now be purchased and received while sitting at home. This saves the most valuable time in the world. Readers no longer have to go from shop to shop looking for books. These realities and advances, and the transformation of readers, must be accepted.

Writers must also be created, otherwise writing or content will not even appear on digital platforms. So, writers, like readers, must now think about these matters; both writers and publishers must adapt to transformation. For a writer now, printing a book is not mandatory; writing and its publication is what matters. Readers will read however they wish. We need writers who can create readers, content that awakens the thirst to read, print and electronic publishers who can understand the reader’s pulse and meet the demands of the age. A good work never disappears; even if it does not become an instant favourite, some of them can become masterpieces.

If a writer withdraws from writing out of reluctance to publish, nothing good can ever be created. It is also true that if a writer’s work is not published, there is no point in keeping the manuscript locked in a box. Whatever the medium of reading, opportunities for publishing writers’ works must be freed; both writers and publishers must think about preventing the untimely death of the reader. The final destination of all writing or literary work is the reader’s home.

Mrityunjoy Roy: Nature writer