THE INTIMACY OF PAPER, PART II: BOOKS

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The intimacy of paper, Part II: Books


We are losing the intimacy of paper -- paper found in letters, books, newspapers.  That touch.  I am a tactile person. I cannot imagine reading “To Kill a Mockingbird” on a Kindle.  I have read that Kindle’s design has been streamlined and that it now weighs just a little over 8 ounces.  Granted there are books that weigh well over that, making them difficult to hold while reading in bed.  And, if I had vision problems, which could be in my future, I can see the advantages to owning a Kindle or something similar.  There are a lot of bells and whistles, though, and I’ve read complaints about the software freezing up and other issues.  Plus just the replacement costs if it does crash.  Even though the price has gone down considerably, that is still a chunk of change.


But actual physical books -- they are the ultimate delivery system for fiction, non fiction, poetry, any kind of writing imaginable.  No swift Internet connection is needed. Books don’t have to have a battery charged periodically, books don’t freeze up.  Books just need a human being to read them. 


I have books by my bed, books in my vehicle, books everywhere.  I cannot imagine life without reading and books.  It is difficult for me to donate books to library sales or Goodwill, but occasionally I will, (and my husband will praise me).  The donated books are usually books that, when I’m just scanning the bookshelves and my eyes hit on that one particular spine of a book, I don’t get a good memory burst -- that’s the only way I can describe the feeling.  You know, how you really get into a book and you hate for it to end, but you can’t stop turning the pages because you are so into that story.  Well, little memory bursts come back to me whenever I scan my loaded bookshelves.   Those tiny memory bursts can include the story, the feel of the book in my hands, how I was feeling when I read the book, where I was while reading it; if the book was a gift, remembering the giver, and, yes, at what point in my life I was at that particular moment.  There are books that I don’t pick up again because I’ve passed that stage in my life, but I don’t discard them, because of the pleasant memory bursts -- that’s the only way I can describe it -- associated with that particular book.



Paper.  Let us not dismiss paper and its function and purposes so readily.  Our society has such a great talent for throwing the baby out with the bathwater.  Why can’t the Kindle and others like it just be part of the great mosaic of delivery systems for information and entertainment?  Why do we have to dismiss one form in favor of another just because it’s the latest trend?  Can’t they exist together, enhance one another? Sometimes the word “modern” is one of the most archaic words around.  Books are never dated. Paper isn’t “sexy” right now but it’s a dependable delivery system.