A few years ago I bought a kindle.  I downloaded a few books and gave it a try.  There was something convenient about the size and weight, and easy, immediate access to books that was compelling.  I could throw it in by purse and have it with me anywhere, anytime.

What I hated though, was reading in bed with it.  There is something visceral about a book.  The feel of the pages, the smell of the paper the weight of the thing. After awhile the cold smoothness of the kindle bothered me, I DIYed a cover from an old journal, and it felt *sort of* like a book.  It just wasn’t satisfying like a real book was.

In the end, I switched back to books, and was committed to using the public library more.  But still, the piles continue to build on my bedside and coffee tables and are now two deep in some of my book shelves.  Favorites get mailed off to my lovely literate daughters and handed off to my book loving friends, but still, they seem to multiply.

And I DO still use the kindle occasionally.  For those “Extreme Book Emergencies.”  You know….. you just finished a book, it is raining and you want to read.  Now!  And you want to read THAT particular book. Your husband’s copy of “Master and Commander” just wont do.  Charge up the kindle, load up THAT book and read away.

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