Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Please, Don't Make My Books Go Digital

My dad keeps "trying" to convince me to purchase some type of e-reader--a Nook, a Kindle. I use scare quotes because the man knows me. He provided half of my DNA. And he knows that the apocalypse will come before I choose to read my books electronically. In this day and age of already plenty-enough staring at computer screens (after all, I get all my news online), I relish the physical interaction of reading a book. I like turning pages. I like New Book Smell, and Old Book Smell, and I even like You Found Me In A Used Bookstore and You Can't Place My Smell Smell. I like taking notes in my books when the whim hits me. Sometimes I dog ear pages. (But not often. It ruins books' aesthetics.) I recently read someone--and no, I don't remember who-- who wrote about the experiences we have that are associated with particular books. And she (yes, I remember it was a she! Hm, maybe it was from The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, now that I think about it) talked about how we are tied to particular actual material books--our copies. It makes perfect sense to me: it's why I resent that I had to replace the first copy of Ella Enchanted I owned--the one I begged my mother to let me read to her (and she complied, at least for a few pages)--with a lesser, less hammered version. It's why I'm always a little bit sad every time I pick up a new edition of Corduroy in the bookstore---the one I originally fell in love with as a young, young child had practically fallen apart. I have difficulty imagining waves and waves of nostalgia and untold reminiscences triggered by my touching an e-reader. And while I can "note" an electronic copy, it's just not the same as rereading 1984 and coming across my own handwriting with some note that 17-year-old me thought was such a revelation while 27-year-old me marvels at how obvious that revelation seems now. Not a revelation at all, anymore, except that it still seems that way when I see it in my own juvenile handwriting. Of course, to be fair to my dad: he knows I'll never go digital when it comes to my books. He just wants to keep from moving any more of mine than he has to the next time I change location. But books are supposed to be heavy: heavy with importance. And memories. And more stories than the words on the page readily show.

6 comments:

Unknown said...

I was begrudgingly forced into the digital world for photography, and I will admit that I enjoy it/ That said, film will always have a place in my heart and in my photography. Don't be too opposed to what is new, otherwise you might end up with a "nostalgia problem". And we wouldn't want that, would we?

Cristina said...

Well said, my friend. :)

Schmetterling said...

," said the girl writing digitally.

Seriously, though, I do agree with you. It's curious you should mention this now. I just took a break from reading a textbook because I was totally zoned out thinking about books that I am sorry not to own. I realized that most of them could probably just be downloaded, and then I wouldn't have to figure out places to keep them, but then the chances of my future kids someday pulling a volume off the shelf because of the color and texture of its spine and thus stumbling upon one of my old favorites is greatly reduced.

I recently went to a reading by Ander Monson so I could ask him how he cudgels Graywolf into letting him have such freewheeling formatting. After I asked him, he talked about it a bit, and then got off onto how making any sort of formatting--even line breaks in poetry--is a real bugger in the world of eBooks, nigh impossible. And then he got off on eBooks and how he recently saw an ad for the newest Kindle in which the fact that it works in direct sunlight was a selling point.

"You know what else works well in direct sunlight?" he said. "BOOKS!"

Loved it.

Katie said...

Oh Schmet--I was fully aware of the irony of writing digitally about not wanting to read books digitally.

And it's more or less limited to books. Full-length works should be packets of pages I can hold in my hand and read while walking.

kathryn said...

I was reading an article (Publishers Weekly maybe?) about ereaders not catching on with they younger generations, not because of cost, but because of electronic fatigue. People get sick of staring at a screen and need something to hold in their hands. While I recently started getting ebooks from the library, I'm still not sure I ever want to spend money of a copy that I'll never be able to smell.

Jacob Bender said...

That's two blog-posts in a row that reference 1984 Katie, am I sensing a creeping anxiety about the slow invasion of electronica in your life?

Also, just to trip you out some more:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/18/technology/companies/18amazon.html