Yesterday within the span of a minute (2:35 pm Eastern Standard Time if you want to get down to the gritty details), I received two emails spreading the sad news that December 3, 2008, had been declared Black Wednesday. No, the stock market did not plummet yet again. (Actually, it may have. I haven’t checked today.) There were no surprise, well orchestrated terrorist attacks to my knowledge. In fact, this little declaration probably didn’t even show up on most people’s radar.

It was the book publishing industry that declared it Black Wednesday: Random House announced that it is restructuring; layoffs were announced at Simon & Schuster and Thomas Nelson; layoffs were rumored at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; and the publisher of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt called it quits.

The announcement prompted a friend and fellow member of the book publishing industry to pronounce, “The book is dead.” And that may have been the blackest part of it all.

Books, for better or worse, are my life. They are my occupation, they are my companion when I am lonely, they are the means by which I learned to knit, they my teachers, and they are the reason I am pursuing my Masters degree. If I had any mind for business, I would have opened an independent bookstore the day after I graduated from college and contented myself with a life of poverty and happiness from that point on. There is a large part of me that still wants to grow up to be Sylvia Beach.

And so yesterday I issued myself a challenge–and today I’m issuing it to you: Buy a book for one (or ten!) people on your Christmas shopping list this year. Keeping the book alive may be one of the greatest gifts you can give the world this year.

Thank you.