I’ve seen a sudden resurgence in the books vs ebooks argument lately, usually raised by passionately pro-book people and defended angrily by e-reader devotees. As a reader/writer person, I’m occasionally dragged in and demanded of an opinion.
So here it is:
I like both.
I like the look and feel of a real book in my hands. I like to crack open the spine, bunny ear my pages (offending many), write my name and the date I bought it in the front, curl up with it in bed and drink hot chocolate. I like to see my books on the shelf, like a display of the way my mind works. I like to have beautiful copies of books I’m almost too afraid to read.
But I don’t like carrying them, which I do – often – because I’ve lived in over nine houses in nine years. I don’t like it when I can’t fit them in my handbag, I don’t like it when they’re so long my arms get a workout trying to read in bed, I don’t like it when great books have ugly covers, or when they’re movie poster editions, and I don’t like it when I drop them in the bath (a problem they admittedly share with eBooks).
I don’t own a kindle, but I do have an iPad mini. It’s adorable, it fits in my handbag, and it has over fifty eBooks on it. I can buy new eBooks on it whenever I like. It travels with me, on days out to the city and internationally. I like the way it’s introduced me to authors I’d never find in a book shop, and how nobody can see what I’m reading just by looking at me.
I just really like reading. In whatever form happens to be easiest at the time.