Are Books Becoming Obsolete?

Sometimes I catch myself wondering if books are slowly becoming something we leave behind. Not all at once, not in any obvious way. Just little by little.

We live in a world where everything moves fast. Information is everywhere. We scroll, we skim, we move on. At that kind of pace, sitting with a book can feel almost out of place.

Growing up in Nepal, books were not always easy to come by. I was lucky if I got my hands on a hand-me-down novel. The pages were already yellowing, the edges worn and curled. Still, I savored every page, the way you would watch a slow movie, not wanting to miss a single moment. They were my windows to the world. 

Later, when I moved to the United States for my undergraduate studies, books became more readily available, but the experience remained the same. You would go to the library, ask for a reference book, and borrow it. Sometimes you didn’t even know exactly what you were looking for, but you just knew it was somewhere on those shelves.

I would spend hours in the library, moving from one section to another, flipping through pages, taking notes, going back and forth. It was slow, but it never felt like a waste of time. And then there was that familiar sound—the soft “shhh” when whispers became just a little too loud. It was almost like a reminder that this space was sacred, meant for focus, for quiet, for staying with something a little longer.

Now, things feel different.

I see it with students. They are reading all the time—on their phones, on screens, in short pieces. Information is everywhere, faster than ever. It is still reading, but it feels different.

And I notice it in myself too.

Sometimes I read a page, and before it settles, my hand reaches for my phone. Not because the book failed, but because I have changed.

So I find myself asking, are books becoming obsolete?

Maybe.

But I’m not sure that is the full story.

Books have not really changed. They are still doing what they have always done. They offer something slower, something deeper, something that asks you to stay.

What may be changing is our ability to meet them there.

A book does not compete for your attention. It does not interrupt you or try to keep you hooked every second. It simply waits.

And maybe that is why it feels harder now.

Not because books have lost their value, but because they ask for something the rest of the world no longer requires—time, attention, and stillness.

When was the last time we stayed with one story long enough for it to change us?

I don’t ask that as a writer. I ask that as someone who is also trying to come back to it.

So maybe books are not becoming obsolete.

Maybe they are becoming a choice.

And maybe that choice matters more now than ever.