I got a Kindle.
Yes, dear readers, I now have an e-reader. Despite previously proclaiming my confusion as to where the appeal of such a device could be, there is now a brand-new Kindle (and sassy purple case) in my possession.
While nothing will ever replace paper books as far as I’m concerned – being one who loves cover art and ink and fonts – I’m already seeing some of the benefits of this technological advancement. Mainly, that for less than five dollars, I was able to stock it with the complete works of Jane Austen, The Bronte Family, Louisa May Alcott, and Mary Shelley in less than ten minutes. That’s pretty splendid for a booknerd.
Having now read my first book on a Kindle (David Nicholl’s “One Day,” review to come!) I can most assuredly say it’s a delight. It’s sleeker and lighter than I expected it to be, and there’s a rather spectacular kind of laziness in pushing a button and having pages turned for you. I’d been concerned about the feeling of having to stare at a computer screen to read, but thanks to this magical “digital paper” feature, it truly feels like you’re reading print on paper. The Kindle also remembers where you stopped reading, and you can highlight passages and make notes within the text. (You can also see most frequently highlighted passages, which is an unexpectedly cool feature for those of us who like to mark up our books sometimes.)
I guess what I’m saying is – I’m digging it.
So, yeah…I now own a Kindle.
Or does it own me?
That, friends, is the question…