Literary Nostalgia
I downloaded the free Kindle application for my PC today. I was very excited. I still am. But at the same time, it breaks my heart.
I'm no longer known for being an avid reader like I was as a child. That was my award at the end of fourth grade - Avid Reader. I loved books. I read everywhere - at school, at home, in the car (despite my propensity for car sickness), I even remember my mother scolding me for reading while walking and crossing streets.
I'm guessing that fifty years from now, actual books will be obsolete. The digital age is becoming more and more digital. Even in the next decade, electronic books will replace textbooks, and students will no longer have to lug around 50lbs worth of books that cost them upwards of three hundred dollars. It's exciting, but it's uncomfortable as well.
I guess I have a sentimental attachment to books. I'll miss turning the pages, dog-earing them to hold my place. I'll miss seeing them all lined up on my bookshelf, and sometimes tossing one carelessly on the floor next to my bed when I got too sleepy to read anymore. I'll even miss that comfortable, musty smell of those well-loved books that had seen years of use.
I distinctly remember the first time I perceived that smell. My mom had given me one of her old books to read. It was Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden. I had never read such an old book before, and the first time I opened it up, that scent wafted up to me and immediately fired my imagination. I was too young to understand Burnett's language fully - I was probably around ten years old. But I remember being snuggled in my bed, hiding under the covers with my flashlight (my parents caught me reading after lights out all the time), and just being engulfed by that earthy perfume while I read about Mary and her garden.
I remember how the edge of my right hand, from wrist to pinky, would become blackened from the text of a new paperback book after hours of reading it and having to hold it open because of its brand-new, inflexible spine.
I remember that sometimes, my very first best friend, Katie Bubacz, would lend me books, and we would just sit and read, lost in our own worlds, but content in each others' company. My brother and I, once he got old enough to enjoy reading too, used to do the same thing. My mother was delighted; my father was perplexed.
I remember knowing more about spelling, syntax, and grammar in elementary school than my teachers did sometimes. I wrote a story once that had a character that liked to talk a lot. She talked so much that sometimes she would start new paragraphs while speaking. I knew that at the end of a spoken paragraph, if the same character was about to start another, you didn't put quotations marks. And I remember getting that story back from the teacher with red quotation marks inked all over it and oh my goodness I was one indignant little ten year old.
Books are a huge part of who I am. I believe sincerely that getting into the minds of so many different characters helped open up my own. I didn't always like the characters I read about, but I could understand more often than not why they did the things they did.
Though I know that the meaning of the books obviously won't be lost with their transfer to the digital venue, I'll probably always be nostalgic for the sound of a page turning, the hollow thump of a hardcover novel closing, the smell of new ink or worn pages, and the weight of a book in my hands.
I'll enjoy my new Kindle application, but it won't be without a little bit of uneasiness, as if I was betraying an old friend.
I'm no longer known for being an avid reader like I was as a child. That was my award at the end of fourth grade - Avid Reader. I loved books. I read everywhere - at school, at home, in the car (despite my propensity for car sickness), I even remember my mother scolding me for reading while walking and crossing streets.
I'm guessing that fifty years from now, actual books will be obsolete. The digital age is becoming more and more digital. Even in the next decade, electronic books will replace textbooks, and students will no longer have to lug around 50lbs worth of books that cost them upwards of three hundred dollars. It's exciting, but it's uncomfortable as well.
I guess I have a sentimental attachment to books. I'll miss turning the pages, dog-earing them to hold my place. I'll miss seeing them all lined up on my bookshelf, and sometimes tossing one carelessly on the floor next to my bed when I got too sleepy to read anymore. I'll even miss that comfortable, musty smell of those well-loved books that had seen years of use.
I distinctly remember the first time I perceived that smell. My mom had given me one of her old books to read. It was Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden. I had never read such an old book before, and the first time I opened it up, that scent wafted up to me and immediately fired my imagination. I was too young to understand Burnett's language fully - I was probably around ten years old. But I remember being snuggled in my bed, hiding under the covers with my flashlight (my parents caught me reading after lights out all the time), and just being engulfed by that earthy perfume while I read about Mary and her garden.
I remember how the edge of my right hand, from wrist to pinky, would become blackened from the text of a new paperback book after hours of reading it and having to hold it open because of its brand-new, inflexible spine.
I remember that sometimes, my very first best friend, Katie Bubacz, would lend me books, and we would just sit and read, lost in our own worlds, but content in each others' company. My brother and I, once he got old enough to enjoy reading too, used to do the same thing. My mother was delighted; my father was perplexed.
I remember knowing more about spelling, syntax, and grammar in elementary school than my teachers did sometimes. I wrote a story once that had a character that liked to talk a lot. She talked so much that sometimes she would start new paragraphs while speaking. I knew that at the end of a spoken paragraph, if the same character was about to start another, you didn't put quotations marks. And I remember getting that story back from the teacher with red quotation marks inked all over it and oh my goodness I was one indignant little ten year old.
Books are a huge part of who I am. I believe sincerely that getting into the minds of so many different characters helped open up my own. I didn't always like the characters I read about, but I could understand more often than not why they did the things they did.
Though I know that the meaning of the books obviously won't be lost with their transfer to the digital venue, I'll probably always be nostalgic for the sound of a page turning, the hollow thump of a hardcover novel closing, the smell of new ink or worn pages, and the weight of a book in my hands.
I'll enjoy my new Kindle application, but it won't be without a little bit of uneasiness, as if I was betraying an old friend.