The domed Picton Reading Room at Liverpool Central Library, ringed with bookshelves

long live the web.

Paper doesn't need a battery

A printed book asks nothing of you but light and eyes. A web page, done well, can ask for almost as little.

A fountain pen nib resting on a handwritten page
The tools change. The habit doesn't.

Most of what a browser renders today would still make sense to someone reading it in fifty years, provided the markup stayed plain. Fonts can be swapped, stylesheets rewritten, but the words themselves don't rot.

A stack of four antique leather-bound books
Three editions, one argument.

That's not true of most formats built in the last decade. Proprietary document types, JavaScript-rendered content, apps that phone home to a server that no longer exists — all of it depends on something outside the file itself staying alive. A paragraph of HTML depends on nothing but a browser, and browsers are stubbornly backward compatible.

Close-up of antique book spines packed on a library shelf
The archive, such as it is.

That's the standard this site tries to hold itself to.