The Kindle.  Kapow!

I feel like nothing else in the publishing world in the past year has caused such a stir as e-readers and e-books.

If you couldn’t tell from my post yesterday, I’m torn. I think there are some really cool things about the Kindle especially if you are someone who reads a lot and wants to make notes on what they read. Oh, let me see if I can think of a few people. Um, teachers. And, how about editors and agents. And I can’t forget commuters. I would invest in a Kindle if I rode the train into work every day.

But I don’t.

I love to read. I love a good story. Even though being a writer has made it much harder for me to find a good book. I need a light switch on the side of my head to turn off  and just be a reader again. But that’s beside the point.

When I read, I want a book, to hold, to doggy-ear, to lose under my bed, to pass on to a friend, to run my fingers across the slightly fuzzy pages, to smell the freshness of a new book or the musty smell of a book that’s older than my grandparents. I have memories, childhood memories attached to books. And that will not be easy to forget.

And I do think the Kindle will only last until something bigger and better comes out that does everything. It can be called Super-texter-camera-phone-computer-book. And I probably won’t be able to afford one until they are on the way out. I don’t even have a cell phone yet. (Actually, sometimes I carry a very realistic toy one around and talk into it just to feel cool. Not really.)

I consider myself pretty flexible. (Don’t ask my kids for verification.) I’ll go with the times. But if libraries become a thing of the past, I will be snuggled in a corner by candlelight the woodstove – reading real books from long ago.

And that’s just the reader side of me.

The writer side of me? I hope libraries and publishers and bookstores are able to keep up with the changing times and don’t get left in the dust.

So. Did you catch all that subtext from my post yesterday? If you didn’t, you’ll have another chance to practice on Friday.

Where do you stand on the Kindle? Do you have one?

It winked at me.

A thrill ran through my body. A blush heated my cheeks. 

It flashed its screen and exposed its skin just so I’d want to pick it up and run my fingertips over it.

And it worked. My heart fluttered. But I didn’t say anything and shoved my hands in my pocket. But wait. I wasn’t wearing pockets, so I picked up my glass of water and sipped, trying to avert my gaze. 

But the Kindle had reached celebrity status. Papa razzi stalked it. I’d seen pictures of it in its fat jeans. In one tabloid, it was caught slumming with the Nook on New Year’s Eve. They were teaming up in a new movie called: Kindle and Nook take down Manhatten.

But I had to know. Did it deserve it’s fame? Just one little dance wouldn’t hurt. One little kiss.

I said the word. It leapt into my hands and seemed to fit perfectly. It whispered secrets in my ear. If I would make it mine, I could highlight text. I could make notes on books I was reading. I could transfer those notes to my computer. I could purchase e-books from Amazon while in the car or the bus or at the beach. I could read teenage vampire books and no one would ever know. Gasp!

I was impressed. But I was a writer! A poor struggling artist with not enough change in my pockets to purchase such a gadget. My old copies of Nancy Drew and Black Stallion with their worn covers lingered in the back of my mind, tugging at my heart strings. And I had just purchased a box of Post-It Notes from Sam’s Club.  

The Kindle grew cold in my hands.

I pushed it away.

It tried once more, calling out that it only had to be charged about once a week. It could go for hours. It would never fail me.

“Put it away!” I cried. I turned and stumbled from the room. My first encounter with a Kindle had left me trembling and unnerved. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be my last.

(To my cousin-in-law, Kelly, should she ever read this. I realize when I asked to see your Kindle at the family gathering you had no idea what was really going on.)