An Ode to the Expresso

As I sit at my desk, sipping coffee, I’m reading an ode to the Expresso. No, not that kind of expresso. This “ode” is to the Expresso Book Machine. We haven’t heard much about that Expresso in a while. All the talk has been about e-readers and pricing wars. But Richard Griffin waxes poetic in the Allston-Brighton about the machine that can turn out a book in less than five minutes. “Almost four feet wide, three feet deep, and four and a half feet high, this new contraption prints, binds and trims in remarkably short order.”

Griffiin loves the Expresso. He’s astonished others don’t gaze on it in wonder, as he does at The Harvard Book Store. In the article, he says the inventors cite five benefits of the Expresso:

1) books can be produced and distributed on site;
2) books can be chosen from an almost limitless digital list and delivered more efficiently;
3) the work of self-published authors can be distributed instantly;
4) literacy can flourish more easily in undeveloped areas; and
5) fewer materials will be wasted.

Others may cherish their e-readers, but Griffin laments:

Surprisingly, no stores in New York City or Los Angeles have it yet. Nor does Barnes and Noble or any other large chain of booksellers.

Sure, the machine costs $100,000, and to make it pay, it has to print at least 20 books a day, but he believes it can be viable. People can request out of print books, or rare scholarly books, or even have their own manuscripts printed.

Considering the Expresso is fast, “green” and makes affordable copies, Griffin is surprised others don’t visit The Harvard Book Store just to gaze on this invention of the future.

He’s writing a memoir. I see him one day sitting at a small table, no books laid out, just a pen in hand and a smile on his face. Customers will order his book from the Expresso then bring it to him to sign. No remainders, no relegation to the 50cent table, and it’s always “in print.”