I am rebelling against ebooks. Against Kindles and Sony Readers and what-have-you’s of the sort. I’m not going to give up the glorious smell of books, the satisfaction of turning another page. I refuse to lose the thrill of a beautiful, whimsical bookmark keeping a passage, the pleasant expectancy of fixing my eyes on the first page of a novel, the joy of reaching the end and closing the book with a satisfying thump or rustle. I’m not going to listen to economical, space-saving people who bring an entire library with them on their travels in a non-descript, impersonal tablet that is no doubt a piece of technological prowess. I’ll choose the books I mean to bring carefully, and dare the scales at the airport … dare them to tell me that my luggage is overweight because of Charles Dickens’ “Great Expectations”. (At which point, imagine me cooly zipping open my luggage, removing the offending novel and placing it in triumphant defiance in my slightly over-plump handbag. Disappointed, thwarted baggage-checker lady –who is really only doing her job– speeds my worldly possessions away to the land of ‘Luggage Security’ with an air of sulky defeat…)
I cherish my books. I have found very real friends in them. I love judging a book by it’s cover (or more accurately, judging the cover of a book…) I don’t think I could have them all jumbled up into a platform that seems to say ‘one size fits all’… I don’t believe I could make a pleasant past-time out of wildly hunting around for the charger or an electrical outlet because my reader is near ‘death’ and I’m in the middle of some extraordinary happening. I am not missing out on anything –I bristle at being told I am missing out on something. Everyone may do as they will, and I’ll do as I please.
In the meantime, you’ll excuse me if I haven’t exactly accomplished the knack of burying my nose in an ebook, and don’t think the Kindle smells quite as nice as the pages of “The Other Queen“.
Yours very truly,