The experience of a book (or, why I probably won’t switch to e-readers anytime soon).
Publishing industry, Uncategorized, reading 4 Comments »Like I mentioned in a previous post, I’m still on the fence about the whole traditional books vs digital books debate. While traveling over Labor Day weekend, I’m sure I made a few airplane passengers uncomfortable as I lingered in the aisle a bit too long, peeking over their shoulders at their Kindles. Yes, they carried less baggage on board than I did with their slick screens and 1,500 book memory, but I happily sat in my seat and finished my paperback copy of Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge. Now that I’m halfway through another book (The Art of Mending by Elizabeth Berg) I’ve noticed I’ve been hypersensitive to the experience of holding a book in my hand.
I can safely say that I’ve taken quite a few steps back towards the traditional books side of the fence, and what’s made the difference are the little things. These are things that make the experience of reading a book worth holding on to.
1. When I read a book in bed at the end of a long day, my bookmark rests on my belly, and re-inserting it into the book’s pages when I’m done brings a sense of accomplishment.
2. Squeezing the book and seeing how the bookmark’s placement moves from the beginning, to the middle, to the end of the pages. It’s progress.
3. Dog ears. Yes, I use bookmarks to keep my place, but I use dog ears when I find a line in a book that just shakes me, to the point that I know that on a random day a few months from now, when I’m making a cup of tea or heading out of my home on a hectic day, I’ll want to pluck the book from its shelf and read those lines, let the words grab me over and over.
4. I love that when I’m done with a book, its spine is a bit worn and the cover’s edges curl up ever so slightly, proof that it was read and loved.
Would love to hear readers’ thoughts, from either side of the fence.
On a trip to San Francisco over Labor Day weekend with my husband, we were having Clam Chowder and Crab Dungeness at this little bistro on the Wharf. The tables were small and very close to one another, and pretty soon, instead of focusing on how romantic it was, I found myself eavesdropping on the conversation next to my table. I couldn’t help it — they were talking books! And, I reasoned, it’s part of my work. The best way to write great dialogue is to listen to how people talk. It was a mini-lesson in in how dialogue can reveal character.
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