Odd, Mr. Sandoval has urged a new post because he has lots more to say. The post and comments in question can be found via this link. He responds:
Prove to me that a book “lives” and I’ll give you a million-dollar gumdrop. The “state of the author” is exactly the point: The great author on his deathbed whispers to his executor: “Tell them everything I wrote was pure fabrication.” The executor keeps this revelation to himself, keeping the world in ignorance. Humans live, plants live. Even Steve Ersinghaus, who has provided me the space here lives. He just doesn’t know why.
Very poetic. But ultimately misguided. If a human is a book, then you would agree that a book is a human. Jokes aside, if a human is a book, then you ascribe real knowing of your fellows to pure inexactitude. Therefore, we can never know who are friends are.
Disrespect of books. Burn them all and who would care: if given the chance, how many of yours would you die for. The whole notion of the reader “changing” the content of a book is a complex modern myth. What was changed needs something original to compare to, right?
You’re assuming that there was meaning to lose in the first place (there may be, I don’t know). I disagree that the reader is “free” to engage content as you suggest, which also assumes chains a priori, and that the content can be used other than in a discardable English paper. Or do I detect you walking with Rousseau, for whom letting go was a disentangling, but I suspect he disentangled himself into simply another net. Give me covariance any day. And why does the hypertext hedge; books don’t? I submit that we all author to some degree or another. Susan would agree with that, I think. We all want control. But the more we rely on books for that control, the more we waste shelf space.
I think you all have been brainwashed by the culture of the book. What did those Neanderthals do prior to their invention?”