Before my roommate got pissed off at the two editions of her Prego Italian textbook, I had known this moment would come. The seventh edition she is currently using cost $96.85. Meanwhile, the sixth edition was sitting innocently on a clearance shelf with a $2 price tag. So what's the fundamental difference between two editions of the same book? First of all, illustrations. The author, Mr. Rossi, aged from an oily-haired dude into a wobbling grandpa within three years. From a geeky perspective, ways of saying days, months and years were introduced on a full page in the sixth edition, whereas the same information was separated into two half pages in the seventh. Under Stress and Intonation, the sequence of Examples Two and Three was alternated. And that's it! One of my friends ventured out to ask her professor why she should buy the seventh edition when she already had the sixth. Here was his answer: ""They have different page numbers!""
Daunted by the sheer waste, she could not part with the perfectly acceptable, only slightly outdated sixth edition. Among the clearance piles, I spotted the 11th edition of Organic Chemistry: A Short Course. Still immaculate in its shrink wrap, the 2003 book had its promising life nipped in the bud. If its $3 price tag fails to attract any keen eyes, such a reputable textbook will be pressed into a lump of nonsense again in some suffocating printing plant. Hundreds of people have worked on this single educational project, and now they have to see their efforts end up restarting from scratch.
Walking down the clearance aisle, I couldn't help wondering about the value of knowledge: Is a $100 textbook much better than its $2 predecessor? Some people might bring up the ""more updated"" argument as their defense for new books. Granted, quite a few academic branches often do advance. A large number of courses, however, do not require such a frequent update, especially at the entry level. For Math 221, you are not expected to learn about the latest award-winning breakthroughs. What you actually spend time on are the theorems of calculus established at least 100 years ago. In the case of language courses, it's safe to say Spanish remains pretty much the same over a decade aside from some vocabulary changes. A publishing cycle of six or seven years is already sufficiently updated for most students. The current practice of three to four years per edition does not add much marginal value to a textbook.
Remember how you waded through all of those courses? You cram all the notes into your little brain, pass the exams, shove your textbooks back to a bookstore clerk and wave goodbye to the class forever. Rapid changing of editions makes your immediate sale of course materials a wise fiscal choice. Unfortunately, coupled with that pitiful stack of cash is the loss of a lifelong learning habit. Your own bookshelf is yawning endlessly for more nutrients but hardly gets fed. Only when you're turned down by ""sorry, we no longer use this edition,"" will you curse on your way home, grudgingly holding a book you can't get rid of, and occasionally flipping through a few pages until your ""aha"" moment comes: Damn, I should never sell such an awesome book! Even this occurrence becomes increasingly rare.
I bought the sixth edition of Prego Italian along with an ""outdated"" German textbook as a minimal tribute to knowledge. For these fruits of human intelligence and labor, staying in my hand is better than aging into dust.
Qi Gu is a freshman intending to major in journalism. We welcome your feedback. Please send responses to opinion@dailycardinal.com.
