Soru

While proponents of digital archiving celebrate the absolute permanence of digitized texts, they often overlook the sensory loss inherent in this transition. To hold a nineteenth-century novel is to engage in a multi-sensory historical dialogue: the smell of decaying paper, the texture of heavy cotton fibers, and the handwritten margins of previous owners all convey stories that go undocumented by scanner cameras. Digital databases offer searchability and convenience, yes, but they also flatten these physical artifacts into uniform, glowing pixels on a screen. In our rush to preserve the intellectual content of our past, we risk erasing the material culture that connects us to the lived experiences of earlier generations of readers. Physical books are not mere containers for information; they are physical touchstones of history. By prioritizing digital convenience above all else, we cultivate a sterile relationship with history, viewing the past through a pristine glass pane rather than touching the very fabric of it.

Based on the passage, the author's rhetorical perspective on digital archiving is best described as: