Few historical characters pervaded my imagination more as a kid than Leonardo Da Vinci. I have always insisted on occupying the awkward space of creativity and science (made awkward only by social constructions), and Da Vinci seemed like my kind of guy. He displayed an array of skills and interests that involved the combination of science, art, geometry, invention, engineering, encryption, etc. It was exactly that kind of exploratory, forever-student model that drew me towards his work and still catches my attention today.

Learning about Da Vinci sporadically throughout my life, one of the things I’ve been consistently interested in are his drawings and notes found in what’s called a codex. To me, looking through Da Vinci’s codices at the V&A museum website is one of the great joys of modern technology. This unique combination of digital technology and ancient technology (the codex) has gotten me thinking about the differences, the properties, and missed opportunities of over-investing in the digital space for things like learning and research.

My biggest question as a web developer is: why does the web seem to fall short compared to books for things like learning and research? Before we can try to answer this question, let’s first talk about what a codex is and why it’s so flipping cool.

The Codex

I first recall hearing about a “codex” because of Leornardo Da Vinci. There are several famous codices that he produced, like the Forster Codices, that show off inventions and ideas and even contain the encrypted writing style that Da Vinci is famous for: writing upside-down and backwards. Because of the fame of these works and the sense of mystery that Da Vinci inspires, I assumed that “codex” meant something like “code.” Something cool, secretive, or difficult to understand. In reality, “codex” is the earlier root from which “code” evolves, and more importantly, it refers to the kind of binding that creates the book itself. So Forster Codex I isn’t a reference to the Da Vinci mirror writing or some sort of abstracted puzzle to be worked out, it’s a reference to the binding of the book that collects all of the pages together.

A book that I pull off the shelf at home or at a library is most likely a codex. It binds several loose-leaf pages (“folios”) and then multiple sets of folios (“signatures”) are sewn together at the spine of the book. Usually we don’t call books codices anymore, because that’s basically become coupled with terminology for ancient pieces like the Da Vinci codices or scripture like Codex Sinaiticus, but the technology itself is essentially the same (at least as far as I understand it, see notes below for sources).

Why is this so important? I think that books have become so ubiquitous and commonplace that we’ve forgotten that they are actual technology, and therefore have unique features and properties that we may not realize are available to us. For example, as described by the entry for codex in the Encyclopedia Britannica:

Two important things we can pull out from that quote for this discussion:

1. The advantages described are features of the technology of books.

2. The scroll was a predecessor to the codex—interesting to keep this in mind when we move back to the web where scrolling is one of the most common actions.

If we look at what a book offers to us in terms of its interface and features, we can see that books still give us certain advantages today. If I’m reading a book and find an interesting reference, I can hold my place with a bookmark or just a finger, flip to the back and get more context from the endnotes or the index, before going back to continue at the part I was reading. On the web, we have a similar experience where we can open a link in a new tab and quickly flip back and forth. Arguably, linking together references is the strong point of the web, and in my view, the entire reason for the success of the Internet.

The Internet is based on the idea of documents bound together. Every webpage is a file (at least originally; there are tricks that aren’t quite so straightforward, depending on the code framework). In a way, a website is kind of like a codex for multiple scrolls where links are both the binding for the website and also the threads that you can follow to other websites. While an ancient scroll could barely contain a short text like the Book of Matthew from the New Testament, and a codex could eventually contain the entire Bible, the Internet is practically unlimited in what it can bind together (Brittanica).

It already seems like the digital space is set to outpace books in every way, but if we continue to compare the experience of reading in a book to reading online or on digital devices, some advantages really start to shine.

A distinct advantage of books is in leveraging our brains’ location-based memory. Since a book is a fixed layout—meaning that it’s not going to change because you’ve turned the book on its side or left it for a while and web developers have made adjustments in your absence—we can often better remember where to find passages or information based simply on its relative location. There are books I’ve read so frequently that I know to look on the top-left column, a few lines down to find what I’m looking for. Knowing that my passage is towards the end of the book, I just have to look for the layout that matches my location-based memory. It’s like having a multi-layered map both in memory and in print, where the larger location is the rough part of the book (beginning, middle, end) and then we can drill down to the specifics (it’s in Chapter X at the one page that had a picture).

A website, in contrast, is likely to break your location-based memory pattern, especially if the content is highly volatile, like on marketing websites or, even worse, social media platforms. As design trends come and go, people rebuild their templates in ways that make it impossible to rely on pattern recognition to find what you’ve found before. Sometimes, against good practice, website updates also destroy or move around the URL structure, causing SEO headaches, but also breaking your own mental model of the site if you were a frequent visitor.

Distractions are possible for both physical and digital media, but unfortunately, most digital interfaces are designed with distractions as a part of the experience. Books are only subject to distractions external to it (your environment, your focus), while most digital spaces, apps, or websites contain internal distractions, tempting you to surf, change to something else, or pull attention toward ads or notifications.

There are more features to explore, but the final one to consider for now is the experience. All of my career, I’ve heard the exact same request when building some new webpage or website. We want a unique, intriguing experience! Designers, marketers, and web developers are all desperately looking for ways to make their content really cool and engaging, but it never quite gets there. To be sure, there are plenty of cool websites out there. We add colors, images, interactive elements, and animations all in the hopes that we can turn our boring old website content into something that people want to read (note that this is distinct from social media platforms, where addictive design is implemented—you don’t get the same staying power from a marketing website).

What is missing from the web, then? In terms of learning and understanding content, why does the web fall short?

Computers vs. Books

In a scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer—you saw this reference coming, right?!—Mr. Giles, the librarian is talking to Ms. Calendar about computers. Giles is frequently depicted in conflict with digital technology throughout the series, but especially in the first few seasons.

“Honestly, what is it about [computers] that bothers you so much?” Ms. Calendar asks.

“The smell,” Giles says definitively.

“Computers don’t smell, Rupert.” She responds.

“I know. Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is…Books smell; musty and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is…it has no texture, no context, it’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last then, the getting of knowledge should be tangible; it should be smelly.”

Maybe Giles is on to something. In the digital space, there is a lack of texture—a lack of engagement of almost all of the senses. Books and physical media can activate our entire sensory experience (apart from taste…although babies and children still get that aspect, ha!). “Physical” reading is an experiential interface that can’t be replicated on a screen.

I think that this scene also perfectly illustrates the tension between the physical and the digital forms of knowledge collection and dissemination, but I also think it’s too easy to assume that we must abandon one form of technology for another. Perhaps this was the concern of the generation in the 1990s/early 2000s when Buffy was created. Now, what we face is more complex. There are undeniable advantages that computers and especially the Internet have brought to humanity. Accessibility being the primary one in my mind. Computers and especially smart phones have given people in the farthest reaches of the earth the ability to access information that would be impossible relying solely on physical print materials. Yes, of course, there are still places that can’t actually reach the Internet due to connection or access to the devices or cultural choices to abstain from modern technology. However, the Internet is still in large part more accessible than something like libraries are at the global scale.

I can’t argue that the answer is to assume that digital technology offers no worthwhile learning opportunities. I’ve learned coding principles from YouTubers that are sometimes better explained and taught than at MIT computer science classes (I’ve seen some of those on YouTube, too). I’ve learned about social issues and studies from creators that have literally changed my life, inspired my own research for this newsletter, and helped me find space to live authentically, all of which would have been impossible without the digital realm.

What I think is the better question than who would win in an intellectual fight: a book or a computer? is the question of usefulness: Which medium will serve me best given my current goal?

This is a question we don’t ask—at least not that I can tell. In the discussion of books vs. the Internet is the assumption that both provide the same thing, and therefore the winner becomes a matter of preference or habit. However, technology is not neutral. That includes the design, the motivations, the incentives, the intended use, and the actual use of technology. A book can be awful and damaging (see Ann Coulter’s works, which filled my head for too long with lies and racist apologetics). A book can also break down damaging frameworks and provide hope or inspire real change. So too, can a YouTube channel or a website or a digital medium hold both constructive and destructive information. The content of a technology, therefore, is also not necessarily a measure of usefulness.

Offloading vs. Instilling

In my experience spending decades trying to learn design and build compelling websites, I’ve come to realize that imitating books online will simply fail (have you ever been to a magazine “experience” on the web where it animates flipping the page? It’s deeply annoying to me, at least). The web is a new medium, and therefore it breaks from its predecessors to provide different advantages and disadvantages.

In terms of discovery, digital media seem to be especially well-suited for wide exploration. AI can help us sort through the infinite expanse of information to find things we are looking for, but also things that we’ve never seen or heard of before. I also see digital media as a great way for distilling or offloading information. For example with CYBORG_, I find the act of content creation to be very fulfilling and also a great use of my web-publishing skills. I’m currently working on a timeline that will help me distill all of the references I’ve used in these articles that also puts them in historical and social context (the page is very work-in-progress, but you get a preview!). It’s been a long time since we’ve talked about personal knowledge management (PKM) tools like Obsidian, but those are also excellent ways of offloading knowledge and quotes and references. PKM tools use the powers inherent to the web / digital media to make connections, help you surf your own curated “internet,” and can be a great way to learn from what you’ve already decided is valuable.

Reading in a book offers a different experience—one of instilling rather than offloading. It is usually slower and more focused. The practice also seems to help us internalize new information, whether that’s thoughts and ideas or empathy for others. You can go deeper with books, especially since deep research online often contains barriers like pay-walls that prevent you from easily accessing information. Libraries are also a part of the experience of physical media in my view. They add the experience of moving through physical space—again, triggering location-based memory—and often providing the means to get around some paywalls.

The slowness and the depth that reading from an actual book has many benefits, but I especially like how Maryanne Wolf sums it up here:

I think our best future is served when we stop assuming that technology is all the same. Books are well-suited for some goals, websites for others. Even more concerning is the loss of readership and literacy in society as we default more and more to short-form, interruptive content and videos. Examining our media habits may be one of the most important exercises that we can do.

For me, code is how I distill my thoughts, find what I’ve found before, explore, and entertain, but when I want to connect, grow, understand, and touch base with humanity, I’ll go to codex. Thanks for reading with me.

Notes and Resources

Agassi, Ido. This is the most entrancing and chill YouTube channel on the entire Internet. He is a master craftsman, book-binder, box-maker. Consider the half-binding project he demonstrates to see the book binding process and how books can be held together. There are many techniques and variant designs, but this is ultimately the idea of the codex: binding multiple loose-leaf pages together into a single collection.

Allen, Roland. The Notebook: A History of Thinking on Paper. 2024. This book is a one-of-a-kind compilation of the history of notebooks: how we got from mark-making on durable, but less manageable, materials like stone and wood to wax-tablets to the eventual invention of paper and finally to the notebook. One of my favorite, fascinating resources that I keep coming back to.

Britannica Editors. “codex.” Encyclopedia Britannica, June 5, 2026. https://www.britannica.com/topic/codex-manuscript, accessed 8/9/2026. A quick overview of the codex. “The codex had several advantages over the roll, or scroll. It could be opened at once to any point in the text, it enabled one to write on both sides of the leaf, and it could contain long texts.”

Wolf, Maryanne. Reader Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World. 2018. I’m still working my way through this book, but it is an excellent look at the neuroscience involved in reading and how reading impacts us.