A few days ago, I was driving to the mall—looking to squander some money— when I noticed a huge sign draped over the Borders Bookstore: “Going Out of Business Sale.” Immediately, I thought of scores of book-hoarding hermits sitting at home ordering books online, and figured the digital age has iced another retailer.
Then I thought: “Oh, maybe I can get a Harry Potter novel for Mackenzie’s collection on the cheap, and that Italian For Dummies book I’d been meaning to pick up.” So I pulled off the road and into the strip mall, where the dying chain welcomed the flock of deal-thirsty soccer moms that beat me to the more convenient parking spaces. Of course, “going out of business” didn’t mean “desperate enough to offer a nice breakdown on a Harry Potter hardcover book,” but that was to be expected. (Guess I’ll take a look online to see what I can find.)
As I walked through the aisles in search of something else to buy, a couple of key thoughts made their way into the old noodle:
In a climate in which many feel the growing use of online retailers and the rise of tablets and digital books apps are crushing the book publishing industry as we know it, people nearly crashed their cars looking for a nearby parking space, in order to see just how desperate Borders was to unload their inventory. Is it the thrill of the discount, or is there still a bastion of loyalists who cling to the traditional practice of reading? Are there people who, more than just the value of reading, wish to instill in their children the joy of the practice? I’d like to think so, but the practical side says the motivation was a combination of both value and cost. The value of the practice is one of the reasons why I’m driven to build a collection of Harry Potter novels for my little Mackenzie. I want them all in hardcover form, so that she can keep them for herself, any future siblings and, someday, her children. I’d rather the novels be pristine, so that the experience of turning each page is new and uninterrupted with stupid school-boy expletives, doodles of penises and other childish art, and old dog-ear creases that scream ‘someone else had this book first.’
I’d want her to read the stories before watching the movies, so that she can discover the true gift of imagination at an age when she can most appreciate it. There is a bit of magic with reading a book as an adult. It takes you back to the very first book you were able to read on your own. The pictures that form in your mind with each line made reading feel more like a private performance than an exercise—and welcomed you to spend more time reading than thinking about the fact that you could have been doing something else. And that’s what I don’t want my daughter to miss. My wife and I are set on getting the entire Harry Potter series even before our daughter becomes an independent reader. When it all finally clicks fore her, I want to see the joy in her face as she turns the pages and discovers a new part of the story. For some reason, I just don’t think a shiny new iPad (or whatever the new device will be) will give her the same feeling.
No mistake, I’m an Apple-head, for sure. Two Mac laptops, a Mac desktop, iPod and two iPhones are scattered throughout my house—with the iPad 2 soon to follow. Rest assured, I’d use the iPad to download digital books, as well. Let’s face it, when you’re traveling for business or vacation, and are dreading those long flights, a tablet can be extremely useful. Load up on a few books, some digital copies of your favorite flicks and a great music playlist, and you’ve got private, sure-to-please entertainment for the entire trip. But, there is still something about pulling of the shelf that expression of an author’s creativity and dedication, and turning those pages. When you think about it, you probably feel as I do about books without realizing it. I’ll bet that, when you read a book, you handle it with care…even though a book can probably handle more abuse than your $800 tablet.
The second thought revolved around the notion that we just may be losing one of our great tools for innocuous social engagement. Nerds everywhere will have to find another way to strike up an interesting conversation with the hotty in the next seat.
When you think about it, a book is just as valuable an identification tool as a crisp suit and briefcase, a diamond ring, or an offbeat hairdo. Sitting (or standing, if you’re in NYC) on your commuter rail waiting for your stop, you can’t help but scan your surroundings. You notice the blockers (those with headphones in their ears), the sleepers, the fellow scanners and, most of all, the readers. At first, you’re more drawn to the readers’ facial expressions. Is it a good book? Are they bored, or dissatisfied? Then you notice how fast they may be reading, which may say something else about their intellect, attention span or imagination (I tend to think the most imaginative and engrossed take longer to read). If you’re close enough, and have some cojones, you’ll get a glimpse of the book’s title, which would open even wider a window of opportunity to spark a polite conversation. Trying to scan a person’s iPad will surely lead to an altercation before it would a conversation that could lead to first names, the sharing of a bit of background and a few rounds of mild mixed drinks at an upcoming happy hour.
Even if the goal isn’t to hook up, books are a great way to connect with people on a platonic level, I’ve never felt threatened by the line “So, what book are you reading?” I don’t think many women have, either. Great conversation used to be what stimulated society. You had a chance to learn and be educated simultaneously. We’ve lost this art, or hide it under our iPod or iPad screens, or headphones. At this rate, our children won’t know how to engage each other in a way that would lead to fulfilling social experiences, if not new friendships. Or, the process would be reduced to blunt, overly public displays like standing in the middle of a train and asking:
“If you’re interested in suspense novels, consignment shopping and traveling through eastern Europe, please raise your hand and I’ll come sit by you. Oh, and if you are a women who enjoys these things, and is not repulsed by the possibility of us hooking up, keep your hand raised and I’ll come sit by you first.”
Overall, I feel books have become more than a source of entertainment, or enlightenment. They hold within them opportunities to learn something new, meeting someone new and communicate who we are as individuals. Yes, tablets are considerably lighter and easier to carry around. I would be too, if you stripped away sixty-six percent of what made me special and stuffed me in a bag.
Something to think about…off to another Borders to see what I can snatch up.
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