Electronic Apostasy: Why I Have Re-embraced the Paper Book

As I write this, I am on an airplane at 30,000 feet, and it strikes me as an ideal time to confess a digital heresy: I have entirely abandoned electronic books.

When the first e-readers burst onto the scene, I was an early adopter; initially on a single function reader, later on a tablet.  The appeal of the technology was immediately obvious.  My entire library was at my fingertips.  I could carry hundreds of books with me everywhere (even at 30,000 feet).  It was quick and easy – virtually instantaneous – to buy a book on line.  Clearly, this was a life-enhancing technological innovation.

After several years, you can now place me firmly in the anti-e-reader camp.  Here are my top nine reasons I have sworn off e-books:

1. I miss the tactile experience.  This is probably the most obvious reason on everyone’s list of a certain generation.  Anyone who was raised (and likely, developed neurologically) reading physical books, probably misses the sensation of turning pages – the weight of the paper, the new-book and old-book aroma, the palpable crack of the spine upon completing the ritual of properly opening a new book for the first time. That ritual, incidentally, came to me courtesy of my outstanding third grade English teacher, Mrs. Walton.  I never think of Mrs. Walton when I fire up my iPad.
2. Thickness of the remaining pages is part of the experience.  E-readers all have some sort of “percent completion” feature to let you know how much of the book you have plowed through.  I need the feel of the remaining pages.  Beyond the purely tactile experience, a thick book, with lots of unread pages, motivates me (“you have a lot to read…better get to it”).  For a cliffhanger, it gives me a sense of how much time the author has to wrap things up. It helps to manage my expectations.
3. My nightstand is a major motivator.  I always have a half-dozen or so books on my nightstand in various stages of completion.  They are a constant reminder of commitments I have made, but have not yet met.  My “stack” in my e-reader probably has dozens of waiting commitments.  I have no memory of many of the books I downloaded on a whim.  I never look at my queue.  My lost books float in cyberspace, like a sailor cast adrift on a life raft hoping to be discovered.
4. The thrill is the hunt.  I love to go to the bookstore, wander around and stumble upon an unexpected treasure.  As I carry my latest acquisition around the store, I have a sense of anticipatory excitement I never experience with an electronic download.
5. Written margin notes help me learn.  As I read, I make occasional notes in the margin.  Frequently, particularly when reading non-fiction, I will flip back to my earlier notes.  Years later, when I pick up a book I previously enjoyed, I review my old notes to jog my memory of the book.  Electronic highlighting does not have the same impact.
6. I like maps.  When I read history, I love books with maps.  I like to dog-ear the pages with interesting maps, and flip back frequently as I am reading.  The ability to casually flip back to a certain page does not work well with an e-reader.
7. I enjoy looking at my bookshelf.  At home, my desk is surrounded by bookshelves.  I enjoy glancing at the spines, reminded of great books I have read.  I feel pangs of guilt for the few volumes I was never able to make it through (but will someday).  I am surrounded by friends.  I never spontaneously flip through my electronic queue, nor does it evoke any real affection.
8. My memory is flawed.  When I read a physical book, every time I pick it up, I see the title…the author’s name…the cover art.  Subsequently, I remember the details, in part due to repetition. When I read an electronic book, I am frequently in the position of enthusiastically attempting to recommend it to a friend, while struggling to remember the author’s name, and sometimes even the title.
9. I am distractible.   Reading is sometimes an effortless pleasure.  Reading is sometimes a painful slog.  Part of the benefit that comes from reading a great book is the investment you have to make of yourself in the experience.  I love to read John le Carré. The early chapters of his books are always challenging.  He drops you into the middle of a confusing story, with incomplete information. The motivation of his characters and the complexity of their situations are revealed very slowly.  It requires patience and commitment.  If the first few chapters of The Spy Who Came In From the Cold had to compete with my email, text messages, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Solitaire, Pandora, etc., I might not have ever made it through one of my favorite books.

For these reasons, and others, I am declaring my liberation from e-books.  Now, back to my reading, as soon as I finish labeling the Kodachromes in my photo albums.