I Love my E-Reader, but I Needed that (Physical) Book
I did something amazing today — I bought a book.
Don’t let that statement shock or fool you — I actually read a lot. At the top of the list of activities for any would-be writer (or for any well-rounded, intelligent person in any capacity for that matter) are two vital challenges — be a prolific writer AND be an avid reader. I take pride in the fact that I have been a voracious reader since the day I graduated from picture books to books with actual words in them. I’ve read the classics. I’ve read pulp fiction. I’ve read from the best sellers list. I’ve read trashy novels with no redeeming intellectual value whatsoever. I have read and I read.
Several years ago, when the first e-reader devices hit the market, I was an early convert. The idea of being able to carry a huge number of books around inside a little, less-than-one-pound, device that I could carry around in my purse appealed to me. No longer was I limited to making one reading choice and lugging around a paperback/hardback book, weighing anywhere from a few ounces to a pound or more, all day long. I wasn’t limited to just the reading selection I thought I wanted to read, only to be bored later on and trapped with nothing to read but the first random selection I grabbed on my way out the door that morning. And (this really appealed to me) I could make a book selection at a moment’s notice, download it on my e-reader and start reading immediately! No more waiting for a book to arrive via UPS or taking time to stop at the local bookstore and browse the new release section. No more being confined to reading one book until I finished it. With the e-reader, I could flip back and forth between books as my particular interests might egg and flow throughout the day. My e-reader freed me to read more, read more widely, read more frequently. I will never downplay the joy and freedom I gained by incorporating an e-reader into my reading life.
Many of my friends and colleagues were fans of the e-reader, as well. Others would just shake their heads and wonder how I could ever sacrifice the pleasure of holding a physical book in my hands. They would talk about the feel of immersing themselves in a good read, flipping the pages, while snuggling down on the sofa with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. Reading a good book — a “real” book — was their escape from reality. For them, it wasn’t an experience they would allow technology to take away from them. As for me, I have downloaded — and read — hundreds of books in the last several years. I attribute my wide-ranging reading habit, in part, to my e-reader. It is a gift that keeps on giving, allowing me ample opportunity to read at my desk, in doctor’s waiting rooms, in bed before I doze off at night, lounging on the deck, any time I have a spare few minutes in my hectic life. I am devoted to my e-reader.
And then, one day, I received a brochure in my mail from one of the many book purveyors who love having me on their mailing list. Of course, I always flip through these magazines. I’m always ready for my next good read. It caught my eye quickly. It was Paulo Coelho’s latest work, “Hippie.” I have been a Coelho fan ever since reading his epic work, “The Alchemist.” I flipped on my tablet to see what my downloading options were for obtaining this book.
But — I’m not sure how or why — I hesitated. The book cover was beautiful, enticing — it drew me in. I wanted to share in the “magic bus” ride with the characters, Paulo and Karla. I wanted to hold that book! I wanted to curl up with a blanket and immerse myself in the journey of discovery with these two idealistic “hippies.” I ordered a “real” book.
I can’t imagine life without my e-reader. I won’t imagine such an existence. But, I must give a nod to my physical book loving fellow readers. There is a time and place for the good, old-fashioned as it may seem, pleasure of sitting down with an inspiring work of literature (or a trashy novel if you are so inclined) and burying yourself in the escapism of another world. And now, I must get back to my blanket on the sofa. My “hippie” friends are calling me.
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