A terrific post by IB.
I’ve always considered my books to be tools… and I write in them. I also see them as little accomplishments… or trophies of a kind. In a world where very few people read anything of substance, and those who say they do are typically lying, I like to have my books in plain sight and refer to them on occasion just to see if what I’m being told they say by those just mentioned is actually what they say.
There are also times when it’s interesting for me to see what I was thinking, or more often failing to understand, by reading my old notes in the margins. Years ago I inherited some school books belonging to my great-grandmother. She too had the habit of writing in the margins… and everywhere else. I was glad to see it ran in the family… it was a glimpse into her insight and personality I otherwise would’ve never possessed… certainly not from an e-book.
I believe I share the love of books with IB… and as usual, she communicates it better than I ever could.
Actually e-books don’t stink, they smell like nothing. Gone is the stale musty scent of times gone by, the faint hint of vanilla and old ink.
You cannot get disgusted at an e-book and hurl it against a wall. There are people walking in the world who will never know the deep satisfaction that comes from slamming the receiver on an old telephone down, or hurling a book against the wall. That is sad.
You cannot comb garage sales and back alley bookstores seeking some ancient and well-loved copy of a rare e-book, some obscure piece of pulp fiction or a trashy little bundle of sci/fi, covered in dust and yellowing about the edges.
With e-books, there’s no reason to leave your home at all.
E-books, well they self destruct. They cannot go missing for 40 years in someone’s attic only to be discovered among the cobwebs like some rare…
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