Last week I had a day off. I travelled to a nearby market town and spent an enriching hour or so browsing in the local 2nd hand bookshop. Mr Turner and I spent £11 on 6 books, which we read in the park for an hour. we then went off into the country for lunch before spending another few hours sitting on a bench in the sun reading our new treasures.
This is why ebooks will never be right for bibliophiles. The glare of the sun on the screen; the battery going flat miles from a plug point or docking station; the coldness in the hand; the strange and slightly nauseating one sided weight that never resolves as you read through the book; the sensuous pleasure of the pages rustling, the feel of the paper, the smell of the ink, of the new, of the old; the fact that books really do furnish a room; the updates, the next generation; the flicking, the scrolling, the surfeit of choice crippling the reader; the short attention spans, the publish anything culture, the constant clamour of more, more, more; the battery acid, the plastic, the endless parade of gaudy and unecessary accessories; the consumerism, the soulessness, the decay of simple pleasures; the digital divide, the exclusion, the fashionability; the headaches, the eyeache, the over complication; the magnanimity, ease and credit crunch busting of bookcrossing, charity shops, 2nd hand books and libraries; the erosion of simple and elegant beauty and perfection.
Libraries - recycling since 1850.