Saturday 9 October 2010

Re-Kindling an Old Pastime

What is wrong with a good book?

I nearly wrote 'good old fashioned book', and therein lies the problem. Old fashioned. In a world where even before the autumn season has begun, the spring/summer fashion week for the following year has been and gone; the iPhone is constantly updated so that Apple produces the 'latest version' a couple of times per year; and car manufacturers undergo a similar updating process on a similar frequency to the Apple products. Perhaps the book is just too... well, old.

And so here we have the Kindle. I haven't tried this device, I can't offer sound critique of the Kindle, how usable it is, how compact it is... but, sitting in front of a computer all day and reading and editing copy is an action that I am familiar with. And my eyes don't like it. Constantly trying to readjust to the light levels, the altering fonts, and the distracting text from advertisements or computer reminders are some of the things that our eyes just don't seem to cope with very well. I now need glasses. Boo hiss.

However, a promotional article on 'boygeniusreport.com' assures me that the "electronic paper display [...] looks and reads like real paper", and that it is "easy on the eyes" in bright daylight. For the sake of argument, let's say that this promotion is written as truth, and that it is no less comfortable or harmful to use than a book is. The qualities that it will never succeed in delivering are those that only a hard copy can.

Think of the smell of a new book. When the pages are tight, crisp and neat, and that familiar smell oozes freshness. You are the first to touch this book, the first to delve into these particular pages and to lose yourself to the mind of the author and narrator. And the sound? The sound of a turning page; flipping it over to escape further or to learn more, feeling the story in your hands.

A friend of mine values the tactile quality of reading a book or a newspaper, the creases and the folds of the pages are part of the process of being involved in the text. Like Huxley's "feelies" in his Brave New World, the overwhelming sensation of feeling what you are viewing is the aspect that really hooks you. The aspect that has emotive power. You can view a screen just fine, but without the sensation of smelling the object, feeling the creases as you turn a page, and even hearing the movement, you are somewhat disjointed from the process, and remain aloof to the tale being told.

Consequently, attention wanders, and the reader moves on. The value of the text diminishes, and the next task or hobby is picked up. This seems to be part of the package of the Kindle. The marketers/creators recognise the decreasing attention span of the modern person who has a faster pace in life than ever before, and one of their advertisements that I have seen focuses on speed. Something along the lines of: think of a book and be reading it in 60 seconds. Bored? Think of another book and be reading this one in 60 seconds? Bored again so quickly? Download a magazine in 60 seconds! Here. Now. I want it.

The book, on the other hand, is about slowing down. Taking some time to enjoy the solitude, to appreciate the work and to feel. Not only this, having this book on your shelf, the one that you've finished, becomes a photograph. And like photographs, they hold memories and reminders of something that has passed. That spine that sits on your shelf is a symbol, a snapshot, of something that you were once involved in, invested time in; and in this fast-paced world of business and money making, surely this snapshot is something to be treasured?

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