I must admit something – I was one of those wackos who was trying everything I could to get a freakin’ HP TouchPad. I can’t buy an iPad right now, so a $99 TouchPad for a techie like me seemed absolutely perfect. Doesn’t matter that the operating system will probably be obsolete tomorrow or the thing wouldn’t even be made anymore. I had to have it.
So it’s actually poetic justice that my jonin’ for this hardware crack coincides with the closing of my favorite bookstore chain, Borders.
Borders. Its wide expanse of books, books, magazines, books, music, coffee and books called me each time I passed anywhere near, making me yearn to pass underneath those red letters into pages and pages of heaven. Real books. Aaaah….
Aaaah, crap.
Borders is a victim of the advancement of the human invention – computers that do everything for us. For example, instead of pliers turning a knob of five or six choices, a small computerized wonder box with buttons lets us sit on our fat asses and choose from hundreds. Phone rings? I don’t have to get up and answer it. I pull it off my belt or I stop watching streaming video and talk to someone who pretty much can be a voice from any further reach of the Earth.
The worst? The thin, rectangular, digital library that is an e-reader of some sort. Gone is that day as a child when I would walk my skinny, wobbly-kneed butt to the downtown public library, check out the maximum number of books (eight), pile them into my arms and then walk back home to digest them like a brand new steak for a big ole fat kid. The smell and yellowing of old pages and the seemingly hundreds-of-years-old ink was intoxicating, yet soothing in its promotion of a simple life that only required a light, a chair and some time to read. That exercise of enjoyment has been traded in for a piece of indestructible plastic, microchips and glass that I can stick in my back pocket.
Borders’ death – and that of the modern WalMart-styled, big box bookstore – was brought on by the human yearning for something easier and more convenient. It has allowed anyone under age 30 to live without the simplest of pleasures, the turning of a page. I really doubt that The Weary Blues or The Outsider were meant for a contraption that is fueled by space aged, invisible juice via a USB port.
We weren’t meant to become a society who can’t remember a phone number, won’t write a letter and has this weird idea that a smaller world means less actual human-to-human contact. However, that is who we have become. We are slaves to the idea of convenience, but to the detriment of the simplest pleasures of life.
And for $99, I have become what I have mocked.
RIP, Borders. Oh, and I never could get my hands on that eff'n TouchPad!
ReplyDeleteI cannot stand e-reading for many of the same reasons you describe. I love the feel/smell/experience of an old book, which is probably the reason I have over 800 books shelved in my home office - more than a few purchased at Borders.
ReplyDeleteMy hatred of e-books is somewhat ironic because I am a professor of information systems and long-term techie.
One part of me fears that as the new generation grows be more comfortable with digital ink and glass screens, the joys (and advantages) of reading from paper will be lost along with the ability to write (with a pen), converse at more than 160 characters without abbreviations, remember contact information, and use a simple map.
The other part of me appreciates being able to answer virtually any question from anywhere my phone has service, stay in touch with old friends, engage in spirited debates with colleagues and other intellectually inclined acquaintances. and listen to my favorite radio stations no matter where I am. And play Angry Birds.
Besides, I expect a lot of books to be cleared out and I still have a little shelf space left.
(Side note: Keep your eyes open - HP will have more TPs in October (supposedly). Meanwhile, I did get one at $99, then paid almost double for a second unit for my wife.)
I do find it ironic that we are mourning the loss of the big box book stores when merely ten years ago they were bad guys for killing all the little book stores.
ReplyDeleteTo your point, however I am a half-digital, half-physical book reader. When I expect a book to be a journey, I want a real book. For example, I put a poetry book on my Amazon wishlist, and my husband offered to download it for me. I told him that I couldn't imagine reading poetry off a digital screen.
When I just want the information or entertainment fast, I love my Kindle. (Yes, a Kindle, which means I have chosen Amazon over the remaining big box bookstore, Barnes & Noble.)
I hope that there is enough business out there to allow me to continue to enjoy both experiences.