Are Books Becoming Irrelevant?

People often ask if books are dying.

They point to phones, tablets, audiobooks, artificial intelligence, and shrinking attention spans. They wonder if libraries will disappear, if bookstores will become relics of another era, or if future generations will simply stop reading altogether.

Then something extraordinary happens.

Ten thousand people fill an arena to celebrate books.

Recently, the Kent District Library’s “On the Same Page” event in Grand Rapids drew such an overwhelming response that it had to be moved to Van Andel Arena. Thousands gathered simply to hear authors speak about stories. In a world where we’re constantly told that reading is fading away, that image gives me hope.

But truthfully, that’s not what gives me the most hope.

Every night, Miles and Miracle come to me with the same question.

“Neni, will you read us a book?”

No matter how tired I am. No matter how long my day has been. No matter if I’m not feeling my best, my answer is always the same.

“Of course.”

Then we settle in together, and for a little while the world disappears.

I make silly voices. I exaggerate every sound effect. I gasp when the dragon appears and whisper when the mouse tiptoes across the page. They giggle until they can hardly breathe, and I find myself laughing right along with them.

It would be easy to say those moments are cute.

But they’re so much more than that.

What I’m really watching is two little hearts falling in love with books.

And I think love of reading is inherited.

My mama read to my mom.

My mom read to me.

I read to my children.

They read to theirs.

Now I’m reading to my grandchildren.

Somewhere along the way, the stories changed, the covers became brighter, and the pages became newer, but the tradition remained exactly the same. One generation reached out a hand and passed imagination to the next.

Maybe that’s why I’m not afraid of the future.

People ask if audiobooks count. I think they do.

People ask if artificial intelligence will replace writers. I don’t believe it can replace the lived experiences, heartbreaks, joys, and quiet moments that give stories their soul.

Technology will continue to change. It always has.

But as long as children still climb into someone’s lap asking for one more story, books will never become irrelevant.

Because books were never just paper and ink.

They were always about connection.

They teach empathy before a child knows the word. They let us live a thousand lives without ever leaving our chair. They preserve family traditions, spark impossible dreams, and remind us that someone else once felt exactly the way we do.

Perhaps that’s the real inheritance we leave behind.

Not the books themselves, but the desire to open them.

One day, I hope Miles and Miracle will sit with children of their own. I hope little Starlynn joins us soon, turning pages with wide eyes and endless questions. And maybe years from now, they’ll hear tiny voices asking them, “Can we read just one more?”

I hope they smile the way I do.

I hope they never say no.

Because if that happens, then the stories won’t end with me.

They’ll simply keep turning the page.