My obsession with the paper tomes started with video game manuals. I have vivid memories of sitting in the back of the car with a brand new game, likely gotten for my birthday, and just poring over the manual again and again and again, eagerly seeking out tidbits of lore, mechanics, hints, artwork, diagrams. Most often these were Nintendo DS or Wii manuals. I'd often have read them a hundred times before I even got out of the car to get to play it.

There's something special to me about those manuals. Big titles for these consoles often had big manuals, often with custom artwork, theming based around the game, and hints and tricks spread throughout. Smaller titles were often a much more utilitarian affair, simple black and white text arranged neatly on the thin paper.

I loved being able to digest the information in such a simple way. It was relaxing, simply letting myself absorb information, and on rare occasions, actually checking them in order to find a button combination or a helpful map.

I used to just read them for fun. I even took some to school, to read when I had sped through yet another page of simple sums. It was a fun comforting item for me to read.

But that was just the beginning of my manual craze.

I was sitting in my Dad's Ford Transit van, bored to tears, when I started rummaging through the glove compartment. I then found the manual, and suddenly, I had something to read. I can't remember off the top of my head which year it was for, but I started flipping through. Pages of procedures for checking various things, how to operate the radio system, features of add-ons and variants that weren't on the van. In that moment, something clicked in my head that manuals were real sources of information.

I then started reading pretty much any physical manual that came across my path. I've learned, in theory, but mostly forgotten, how to operate many pieces of machinery that I shall never see nor interact with, and that thought is simply very funny to me. I know how to open 180 degree doors on certain Transit Vans, for no reason at all, whatsoever.

But I actually learned helpful things, too. Things like reading a copy of the "Rules of the Road" actually had some things stick around in my head, and managed to make passing my own theory test easier, although I did have to revise just a little bit as you can imagine.

But I simply adore having a comprehensive, well written and illustrated manual to read. They are so unbelievably helpful that it still boggles the mind to me that "RTFM" is a common cry on forums, chats, and frustrated tech support calls everywhere? Why wouldn't you want to read a manual?

Oh, yeah, because you're a sane human being who doesn't see a large table listing specifications, and think "Lovely!"

I know there's some of you out there that agree.

Unfortunately, I often look at scans and and pictures of older manuals. And holy hell, do they seem a lot more detailed, a lot more interesting to read! Frankly, they needed to be for anyone to get good information on a given thing. The lessened access to the gigantic source of all human knowledge and then 80 percent entirely useless lowest-common-denominator faff.

The advent of the Internet, and search engines, have somewhat lessened the need to put everything into a manual. Often times, you can buy a new gizmo or gadget and get a paper slip "Quick Start Guide", which simply tells you "plug it in, 4head", and an impostor booklet that contains only the billion lines of legalese that tell you not to throw it in the rubbish bin and that you don't actually own the product you just paid for.

Oh, and getting a big old spiral bound manual with your 8-bit home computer sounds simply lovely, and I want that, please, thank you very much. If it's going to sit on my desk, why shouldn't it be spiral bound?

Did I miss this just like the Web 1.0?

But the manual lives on. Sure, they take slightly different forms, these days. Sometimes, it's a wiki, or knowledge base, which is kept up to date rigorously and contains the same tips, tricks, and arcane knowledge I love.

Other times it's three lines that are inaccurate at best. At least they're quick to read and dismiss, while you promptly find someone who knows what they're doing, and then make them your defacto manual.

I think my favourite example comes from my favorite Lisp Interpeter/Web Browser/Chessboard/Snake Game/Text-Based Adventure/Text Editor, GNU Emacs. The built in manual is extensive, and just chock full of interesting tidbits. You can learn Emacs in one day. Everyday. But it's got a manual to match that, and docstrings galore to boot. With three keypresses you gain access to an index of different manuals.

You certainly need it for a program that's been evolving since 1985. Emacs even comes with two manuals for the built in language, Emacs Lisp, one a reference, the other an introduction for non-programmers to that language!

There's also the UNIX tradition of the good old man page. Quick, simple, and of course… accessible through Emacs. What, you expect me to leave Emacs? But more seriously, they can be a real mixed bag. Some are just detailed enough to get to know the program, others are small, and out-of-date. They are something to scratch that itch, either way.

Not to mention the myriad of other software, hardware, and equipment that have massive digital manuals. While it's disappointing that I might not get something to hold in my hands, the replacement isn't too bad, and searching is a godsend for pulling the information you need. There's benefits to both, really.

So I think there's plenty of high quality manuals left for me to read and reference. And plenty more that have three sentences of poorly translated English that leave me trudging to Stack Exchange to desperately find someone who hopefully had the same problem.

And if you're not an Emacs user, and are complaining that GCC or some other program doesn't have documentation, do yourself a favour, and type:

"info"

This one may have happened in an IRC channel.

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