Virtually Reading

Location, location, location. It's not just real estate, it's also about reading. It's an interesting question: where do you read? I read in restaurants (while I'm eating alone), in the car (while I'm driving, or at least in stop-and-go traffic), in checkout lines, in beach chairs, in gardens, on airplanes, and best of all, in bed. And since I'm a blogger, I obviously read on computers. But thus far, there's not much about the new electronic books (like the Kindle) that interests me. Do I really want to read a "device"? Sure, for long trips, it might be nice to slip one little electronic device into my purse instead of cramming a stack of books into a corner of my suitcase, but there are so many odd pleasures to the stack of books that I would miss: the search for paperbacks that can be left like gifts in airports and on trains when I've finished with them, the guilty pleasure in cracking a book's spine or turning down the corner of a page, and the opportunity to underline, draw smiley faces, or pose questions in the margins. I own books so that I can write in books. And writing electronic notes in the margins doesn't seem to allow for drawings and doodles, nor does it allow for the quirky pleasures of reading someone else's marginalia. There's a tactile pleasure to books, a physical presence that is seductive: I love the smell of old books; the feel of leather bindings; the heft of fat, meaty texts; the measuring of a bookmark that says "almost done now."

Increasingly, we're living in a virtual world of ubiquitous electronic communications. And the new literacies have their own appeal: I've e-mailed my college-aged daughter long, chatty missives far more often than I would have in the days of snail mail letter-writing; blogs offer a wonderful mixed media venue for sharing words and images; and at last night's high school Class Night, students and parents were received breaking text-message updates on the score and action of the Stanley Cup hockey final as the superintendent droned on and on.

But I draw the line at electronic books. While Kindles and their kin may offer convenience, like plastic gnomes (as opposed to those crafted from ceramic or cast iron), they have no souls.