Amazon released its first Kindle in November 2007. It sold out in something like a half hour, and from all accounts (and my memory) remained out of stock until April of 2008. My husband, much more tecnogeek that I am, thought it was a fabulous solution to my habit of carrying a tote bag of books everywhere. I was not sold. Reading was as much about the “hand” of the book as it was about the words on the page. Then there was the heady smell of ink and paper and the comforting weight of the book in your lap. Kindle, endless quantities of books on an electronic tablet. I really didn’t think so! Of course, the price of Kindle books did tempt and the selection was pretty good. Still….
Fast forward a few months. I was diagnosed with cancer on
September 5, 2008. Not that I remember the day or anything. Ok, I frequently
forget my wedding anniversary, but I never forget cancer diagnosis day. My life
became round after round of doctor visits, waiting rooms, surgery, chemo, and radiation.
My husband often did the book carting, but by the time I got to the chemo
portion of the adventure, spending eight hours tethered to a drip line and
selecting the proper variety of books for the duration, he said, “Enough.” He
bought me a Kindle, had it loaded with my current TBR selections and a few
others he thought I would like and gave it to me. I never did figure out where
he hid my tote bag.
I was hooked. An entire library in my lap. YES! And the
prices. Why, I could buy six books for the price of one. AMAZING.
I’ve been through three Kindles since and am on my fourth.
So, why this testimonial to the Kindle? It’s really a memorial. Although I will
continue to use my Kindle for some reading and for travel, it makes sense for
home reads to return to the world of the hardcover book.
A recent blogger on another blog listed her favorite books
by genre. Several piqued my interest, and when I trotted off to Amazon, the
kind folks there told me I not only owned the books, I’d read and reviewed many
of them. What was going on? Why hadn’t the pixels on the page and/or the titles
of the books made more of an impression? Was this the onset of some other dread
disease? It shook me to the core. I have a photographic memory (both a blessing
and a curse and yes, I have learned how to find the off switch), yet I had
little memory of these books until I read the synopsis.
That’s when it hit me. I have a photographic memory,
particularly of covers. When you read a hardback (or paperback), every time you
pick up the book you see the cover. It gets imprinted in your memory. The cover
and the story become linked—at least in my feeble brain. That’s what I was
missing. Pixels don’t seem to leave the same visual residue. That discovery
caused me to take a hard look at my bookshelves. Every book on the shelf had an
identifiable cover and the cover triggered the memory of the content. The cover
was as much a part of the experience of reading as the story. I was not Kindle
wired. Fine time to figure that out. Eight years down the road.
All of this has led me to the only bookstore in my area,
Barnes and Noble. That’s where I made my second major discovery. I confess, it
has been a while since I’d ventured into a bookstore. The closest to me is 35
miles away. Amazon a mere click from anyplace I happened to be. Going back to
Barnes and Noble intoxicated me. All those books, the smell of paper and print.
The bargain bookshelf.
Let me say that again. The bargain bookshelf. Hardback books
costing far less than their Kindle counterparts. Books I had on my wish list
waiting for the prices to come below double digits stared up at me from a table
in the front of the store shouting, “Pick me, pick me, you know you want me.”
My zeal knew no bounds. My husband went off to ask if the store had a grocery
type trolley. I indulged myself with fifteen books. All on my Amazon wish list.
Books with covers--covers that I would see every time I picked up the book.
Books that had that indescribable “hand” and scent. Paper books.
I am in love, all over again.
