I firmly belong to the camp of unapologetic book lovers and I am completely and possibly irrationally against this whole Kindle thing. Yes, I refuse to acknowledge its technological prowess, and I insist on calling it a /despicable/ thing despite the irony that I am in fact an engineer by profession. Oh, I will use my nifty iPhone to upload that snazzy picture I instagrammed the shit out of. And I will not dare to venture out on these strange and mysterious roads without Google maps. (I have neither a shred of direction sense nor an internal compass. I can barely make it to work and back everyday. Yes, I’m that pathetic)
But I digress. Like many precocious smartassy kids with no friends to speak of, I grew up on a diet of books. And honestly, nothing can really replace those childhood memories of reading with a torch under the blankets after bedtime. Or impatiently unwrapping presents I knew were books, every single birthday. Writing my name and the date on every single book that I own (over three thousand would be my guesstimate). Poring over the same books, getting them all dog-eared and growing into them like my favourite sweater. Discovering something new every time I read those pages. Every single blessed memory, I associate with a physical, feel-in-my-hands, feel-in-my-soul book.
I use my ample experience in book reading as a passport to book snobbery. The Kindle is just so, mainstream man. I mean, what true book lover would profess to reading 50 Shades of Grey on a plastic screen. (I haven’t read the damn thing, I swear it. I will admit to reading about a certain sparkly sexist blood sucker though. I’m ashamed, truly. I have since made up for that travesty by starting on War and Peace). How can an entire library of e-Books ever replace an entire library of actual books? “Here kids, let me transfer to you my entire life’s collection on the Cloud.” Blech. Technology, please don’t devour the most precious things I own (my shoes come a close second though). We can co-exist. I hope.