Which do you prefer? Physical books, or ebooks?
Over the past couple weeks I’ve heard a lot on both sides of the debate. I used to be of the “I like to curl up with a real book” club, but having a Kindle did in fact change that. The sheer convenience of a Kindle, and how many books are at your fingertips, cannot be denied. I download so many freebies, some of which are godawful, some are real secret treasures. I am more willing to try something at 99 cents than $7.99. And of course, it’s environmentally friendly. Even for my environment, where I have bookshelves overflowing because I can’t bear to part even with the sucky ones. They breed behind my back. I can go donate a big fat bag to a used bookstore, and more spring out to overhang the shelves. Books reproduce asexually all the time, and no one ever catches them at it.
But conversely, I still maintain there is nothing like curling up with a real book. The smell of old bookstores (within reason, let’s face it, that smell is probably paper mites and mold, but there’s a certain undeniable nostalgia about it before it gets plain old yucky). Actually turning a page. Fighting the urge to peek ahead to the end of the chapter (or the whole darn book).
A couple people even said to me at Comic Con that they cannot, or will not, read a real book. I’m not complaining. I feel joy that they read, and that’s enough.
Whether you tear through 15 pages of books on a Kindle while waiting for your car, or leisurely flip pages while sucking up sun and fresh air in a park, just read. This world is about absorbing as much life as we can, so when you aren’t out there actively making your own things happen, make sure you are taking in the things of others: their personalities, their triumphs, their tragedies. Their worlds.
Get in as much as you can. While you can.