I’m sure that every development in published media has met with resistance; a penchant for the status quo, and a distrust of new technology. And perhaps I can be compared to the people who refuted the logic of replacing woodblock print scrolls with movable-type page setting.
I recently read my first e-book and, although the media is convenient, it cannot replace the experience of the old-fashioned, printed book.
I held the e-reader in my hands; it was unusually light, but had the capacity to hold over a thousand books in its stylishly thin package; in my mind, an imaginary abyss opened and my book collection was sucked into the vacuum of the past. I attempted to patch the rift, and then began to read (for the record, it was The Fall of Hyperion, by Dan Simmons). Are ‘real’ books — with their magical, tactile pages, which, when flipped, release an earthy redolence — a fading relic; and I am merely steeped in nostalgia? I don’t think so, but I may be biased…
The friendships I’ve made! And they are steadfast; even if I change and move on, they are always willing to regal me with stories if I express a desire to become reacquainted. Some of my friends were too sophisticated for me when we first met, but they have waited patiently, and I comprehend more each time I converse with them. And there are a precious few that struck a resonant chord and remain with me as life-long allies in a confusing, and sometimes indifferent, world.
All of them remain on bookshelves, within easy reach. They are portals to the past, present, and future, waiting for me to gaze upon them, perhaps even pick them up and flip through their minds; to sample, or re-read, often taking me on a journey — through scrawled, and nearly illegible, notes — to other books, and further afield. Even a glance at their spines — mnemonic devices — can transport me through time, via a river of memories; and into the minds of others, whose thoughts I shared.
Books live in every room of my home: they are part of the décor; objects d’art, symbolic memorabilia, a component of the aromotheric mélange, accent pieces, and — as I mentioned — valued friends I cannot live without.
There are characteristics of print books that can be reproduced by an e-reader (and bulk storage and retrieval, I must admit, is a distinct advantage), but some experiences cannot be duplicated. It is the difference between a walk in moonlight, and a picture of the moon.