De-Kindled

Books have powered my life since I was five years old. That's when the relationship between letters, words and meanings all began to make sense to me. I was thrilled when I could check out my own library books. In high school, I did my homework on the bus so I could read for pleasure after dinner. That kind of reading disappeared when I went to college but returned with even more energy as I was raising babies. The constant motion of taking care of small children was rewarded with many, many hours of reading late into the night when time belonged to me.

Then years of teaching sharpened my knowledge of how to share books and reading with other people so that they might take similar journeys into worlds of all kinds.

Books feel good and smell good. They have front and back covers that you can read and assess. You can skim the front flap and learn a little about the book you're thinking of reading and peek at the author information on the back flap to check on what possible connection you might have with him or her. You can study the publication page which provides more fascinating information than most people think. You can study maps or photos or illustrations. You can wonder how the prologue will relate to the rest of the book. You can tuck your favorite book mark into it as you set it aside. You can mash it into your suitcase or even find a smaller "to go" book when you travel. You can take it to a special friend when you finish it, talk about it with your book club members, recommend it to others, leave it in a restaurant on purpose, sell it, trade it, save it, or put it on top of the stack of those already read. And then you can go back to the book store or to the library to search for yet another book adventure.

That all disappeared for me when I bought a Kindle. I tried. I really did. But the whole organic experience of reading was gone when I held the little screen in front of me. I tried for several days then did an experiment. I went to the book store and picked up The Tiger's Eye, a book I had sampled on the Kindle. I hefted it, studied the richly colored book jacket, read the flaps and sighed with pleasure. Then I touched, caressed, thumbed and skimmed several other possible reads. Then I went straight to Best Buy and returned the Kindle. Maybe someday I'll try it again, but for now I am content with the giant new Ken Follett that my sister gave me for Christmas. Yes, it's tricky to manage in a supine position especially with progressive lenses and growing cataracts, but it's a real book complete with a real read. It doesn't feel like some sort of Fahrenheit 451 experience. I'm a happy reader again.