Being a great writer, as the adage goes, means being a great reader. Taking this to heart, I’ve recently I’ve decided to consciously put books as my “modus operandi”, especially on Instagram – but I’ve a fair few things to say about books as a medium and my experience with them as a reader. Therefore, I’ve decided to start a new series of posts here on my site where I discuss in a bit more detail my experiences as a reader, not relating to specific pieces of content and not relating to my own work, and I’ve decided to call it Book Thoughts
It’s been an interesting reading journey for me. I’ve always enjoyed stories but I’ll be the first to confess that my reading – in terms of the leisure reading I’ve done as an adult – lagged until one day in October 2011 when I received my Kindle 4. That device really supercharged and re-invigorated my latent and ever-present passion for reading because it made books very accessible, plus it tuned right into my appreciation of all things geeky. It’s a wonderful device. It’s coupled to pretty much the biggest eBook infrastructure available and it was a great investment.
For a long time since then I was pretty much a Kindle-exclusive reader – I recall in my heady youth of being 21 wanting to maximise the opportunity my Kindle had. It still has a lot of great advantages – portability, storage capacity, and the eInk screen is like paper (reading on the Kindle app for phone or tablet is very much the inferior experience) but better – and I read many great books using it. I quietly vowed to be a digital-only reader – eBooks are largely quite cheap and accessible.
So how often do I use my Kindle now, I hear you ask? Virtually never. Well, maybe to read drafts of my own work and others but for actual fiction? Hardly at all.
One word: University.
Quickly, especially when studying Creative Writing, the Kindle began to show some of the limitations of using it in a reference environment. This became a bit clear before I started at Kingston; I loaded my Open University textbooks onto it, which were well-formatted… but the Kindle is more adept to contiguous reading of books from beginning to end; the Kindle is quite unwieldy to flick backwards and forwards through titles on. For a Creative Writing class this quickly proved inconvenience. When a medium becomes inconvenient it’s time to look elsewhere.
Oh, and another two words happened concurrently with University that helped me go back to the future: Amazon Prime.
This service is truly wonderful and worth every penny – I could get cheap books, usually cheaper than Kindle, with only a few hours delivery! What sorcery! Many times over the course of my studies I’ve ordered books for pleasure or class late at night for them to arrive quickly the next day – and sometimes even the same day.
These books would largely be paperbacks – now I’d never really given up on paperbacks or physical books, it’s just eBooks on Kindle were so much more convenient. But one thing about Kindle eBooks, and eBooks in general is there is a different, if you will, feel to the whole experience – and I began lending out books from friends, unable to lend them back due to the digital rights management baked into all of my eBooks.
Some notable friends don’t even have Kindles or any other form of eReader, bar a smartphone. But for class, and considering they were now, thanks to Student Prime, cheaper and effectively as accessible as the eBook equivalent, there’s no real contest is there?
Well… plus there’s the fuzzier side to the equation: paperbacks (and physical books in general) are lovely to have. There’s something about being able to turn around from my chair and admire my collection of books – not all of which I enjoy or even like, but I own them as they form part of my reading fabric; one has to take from the books one didn’t enjoy something to learn from – that just doesn’t hit that same sense of quiet pride with looking at the list of titles on my Kindle. And even that, once you get past 10 or so “pages” on the main menu, that becomes laborious.
And when things become laborious, things get neglected.
But still, the point stands – I’m proud of my book collection and it’s always, steadily, expanding. I’m even rebuying books I have on my Kindle – The Fog, Ready Player One as two notable books I love – because the physical experience of reading a book is just something nice. It’s a little irrational but it’s just, if you like, a purer way of experiencing literature.
And that’s not just me being nostalgic – paperback and physical book sales have seen a resurgence in the face of eBooks, which seems odd given the theoretical advantages of the digital format. But, I guess, readers are romantics; getting your nose stuck in a paperback just has a different quality to that of staring at a screen, even one as wonderous and paper-like as eInk.
The feel of a paperback in your hands – and yes, I’ll admit, the scent of a fresh book – is just incomparable. I’ve found myself not only becoming a reader of physical books but a collector, furnishing my own private library of great reads. And that wholesomeness lies at the root of this truly irrational but fiery passion – books are to be read, studied and analysed, but also enjoyed.
Physical books still have that fuzzy, wholesome sense of wonder to them – they’re an object, a tangible thing to hold onto, a physical representation of ideas in their purest form, language, that’s so accessible – no batteries to worry about, or DRM to content with, or USB cable to lose, just bound, beautiful paper. I can proudly combine all the aspects of my reading life together – The Expanse via the Jack Reacher books while sitting proudly on the same shelf as the battered copies of Harry Potter I read when I was eight years old.
Throughout writing that last section I’ve had to consciously temper myself from typing paperbacks where I intended to type physical books. And that therein exemplifies my current crossroads, and evolution in my experience as a reader in the most literal sense.
For a long time, I considered hardback books as the realm of large, off-size, hard to handle books, usually non-fiction. Hardbacks, while very attractive, just never seemed very convenient for how I was reading. Considering earlier I called myself a collector earlier, this may seem strange… but as the majority of my fiction bookshelf is paperbacks of the standard trade format, why would I mix that up? Consider it a degree of OCD, the desire of uniformity, just being plain weird… a mix of the three?
Happily, I’ve rowed back from this in a pretty big way; for Christmas 2017 I received a copy of Artemis in hardback – it was a great book and, I must confess, the hardback wasn’t as… awkward to read on a physical in my bed or while I was out than I feared; if anything, its larger dimensions helped. And recently I acquired a library-bound hardback of Shift which was a bargain I couldn’t refuse.
But the pleasurable experience with Artemis – bar it being a fantastic novel – challenged my assumption that fiction hardbacks wouldn’t be the same. While hardbacks are generally m ore expensive, they’re also, crucially, usually the first editions available; with paperbacks usually, months behind. That long-held, irrational assumption that “hardbacks are for non-fiction books, paperbacks are for stories” was shattered while reading one brilliant book!
Overall… my journey through format has been interesting, especially considering I’ve largely gone from digital back to physical. But ultimately what’s important is that, regardless of format of choice, books and reading has never been so accessible.
Got any thoughts of own? How do you order to read? Be sure to contribute to the discussion!