Book Thoughts: Abandoning eInk for Real Ink

Book Thoughts by Richard Holliday

In 2011 I got my first and so far only Kindle – a grey Kindle 4 – and it revolutionised how I read. And now it sits begotten and forlorn on my shelf in its battered folio case, surrounded by paperbacks.

Honestly even thinking about this makes me realise how irrational this is. But front and centre I’ll admit now that I am re-converting back to paperbacks, to the degree even that I’m seriously planning to rebuy the books I have on Kindle as physical dead trees.

It’s mad isn’t it?!

Now don’t get me wrong, the Kindle is a fantastic piece of kit, and my Kindle is one of the rare pieces of technology I own that I truly love unconditionally. The eInk display is pretty much paper-like, without the glare of a backlit LCD that is objectively bad for your eyes. Indeed, the eInk is legitimately better paper than paper – features such as dynamic text size, font choice, and even context info and inline dictionary definitions for those tricky words make it objectively more capable than paper.

books on wooden shelves inside library

A Kindle can contain hundreds of books and not weigh the same as a small car. The battery lasts forever – even on my ancient Kindle 4. It fits in a bag very easily and  the latest Paperwhite versions can even be read in the dark. But the Kindle remains a technological item in that it does run out of battery, it is reliant on WiFi and these niggles can break the experience of reading that a paperback – or other physical book – simply doesn’t need to worry about.

black and white bed stripes kindle

Largely I’ve found that Kindle books aren’t that much of a saving on traditional paperbacks, so the cost savings are modest. Taking into account, as of time of writing, three popular books sourced from the Top 50 Fiction on amazon.co.uk:

  • The Testaments by Margaret Attwood – Kindle £9.99; Hardback £10 Saving: 0.1%
  • The Holiday by TM Logan – Kindle £2.60; Paperback £6.60 Saving 87%
  • Echo Burning by Lee Child – Kindle £1.99; Paperback £7.99 Saving 75%

I’ve also drilled down into the Top 100 Sci-Fi Fiction:

  • Artemis by Andy Weir – Kindle £4.99; Paperback £8.96 Saving 45%
  • Neuromancer by William Gibson – Kindle £5.99; Paperback £6.87 Saving 13%

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Already it could be said that the potential savings are considerable with a few exceptions; surely savings upward of 33% could be worth the downfalls of the format that I’ll touch on soon. It’s important also to note that there’s a few important caveats on that quick comparison: quite a few of the paperbacks are not discounted; the Kindle editions quite frequently are, heavily so. I’ve been able to find a great deal of mainstream chart books, for instance, the Lee Child Jack Reacher novels, significantly cheaper in physical format outside of traditional bookshops (think: supermarkets). This phenomenon was reflected in a couple of examples that I located of high-profile books being cheaper in paperback than Kindle, or more commonly, where the saving on Kindle was not significant:

  • Killing Floor by Jack Reacher – Kindle £4.99; Paperback £4.50 Expense 10%
  • The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins – Kindle £4.99; Paperback £5.99 Saving 17%

Of course it would be facile of me to disregard totally the trend for ebooks to be cheaper; it’s not a hard and fast rule, but a general trend, and it depends totally upon publisher and offer time. And those savings come at a price nonetheless, it just may not be monetary.

One of the things I’ve found refreshing about my own personal paperback renaissance is the sense that I am owning my books. With Kindle and other ebook platforms, you simply own a licence to access the content via the vendor in question’s storefront or platform – and your books are only readable on that specific platform due to DRM (though there’s millions of free ebook files to be found). Amazon’s infamous instance of remotely deleting 1984 from people’s Kindles is a tart example of the fallacy in this model, arguably. And indeed, what happens if the obscure format becomes unsupported?

And there’s something wholesome and comforting about perusing the shelves of a bookshop and taking punts on recommendations left by the staff, who all love reading themselves. Indeed, some of my favourite reads recently have been ones I’ve taken a punt on after spying a book in a bookshop – Feed by Mira Grant and The Blinds by Adam Sternbergh are two notable recent ones I thoroughly enjoyed.

The fuzziest reason I’ve gone back to physical books is the sheer experience. The feeling, the smell and the sensation of looking at a dead tree with some ink and hallucinating is really rather magical. Quite often when I do use my Kindle these days I have to think if I remembered to charge it recently, whether it was still connected to my WiFi, or whether I’d sent the document I wanted to read on it… with a paperback book I’ve found there’s none of those considerations – one just sits down and opens the book. While over time I have adjusted to a largely digital world and workflow – lord knows, I’d love a typewriter, for romantic reasons; my productivity would crater however – there’s something about the simplicity that comes from an analogue experience that just flows better for me. Again it’s fuzzy, sentimental reasoning, and I have no grudge or ill will towards those who live for their eReaders, but reading should always be a comfortable, personal experience and these days I’m content to bury my head in a well-presented paperback.

But the whole precis of this discussion is that I simply don’t much enjoy the Kindle experience, and that’s a shame – as I recognise the benefits of the Kindle: features like X-ray, the ability to store hundreds, even thousands of books, adjustable text size, font and margins… but it just comes across as a little soulless. So much so that I’m honestly deciding whether to start re-buying my Kindle purchases as paperbacks, a process I’ve already started with the likes of The Fog by James Herbert and One by Conrad Williams. But also series I want to rediscover – I recall reading a fair number of the Lincoln Rhyme books by Jeffrey Deaver and in a weird way they seem less accessible on my Kindle!

I’d be interested to see what people think in the comments! Get to it!

Stock photos by by Caio Resende and Stanislav Kondratiev on Pexels.com; Waterstones Piccadilly (London) from Havwoods.co.uk

Amazon prices correct as of 14th September 2019

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Book Thoughts: The Attraction of Physical Bookshops

Book Thoughts by Richard Holliday

A recent newsworthy event was that Waterstones, arguably the leading High Street brick-and-mortar bookshop here in the UK was to acquire Foyles, a chain of independent bookshops with a storied history.

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The outside of my local Waterstones

Ordinarily I would be fairly unimpressed at the homogenisation of the marketplace as I do believe competition fosters the best – indeed, over the last fifteen years or so the number of discrete chains of bookshops has steadily declined through acquisitions. Borders, Dillons, Ottakars… I was even a little disappointed when I visited Hatchard’s in Piccadilly at the recommendation of a friend to find it was a slightly-rebadged Waterstones. Not that that was intrinsically bad… but I’d left the flagship Waterstones store (which I instantly fell in love with) to explore this purported quirky independent.

Returning to the point: the UK retail book market has essentially homogenised into three large players whose stores I do frequent often – a trip down the High Street usually results in popping into all three:

  • Waterstones is the “full-fat Coke” of UK bookshops – stores that have wonderful bookish atmospheres that encourage browsing.
  • WH Smiths, whose more utilitarian “plain vanilla” shops lack a bit of soul, but WH Smiths has that rich history behind the name, for it was WH Smiths that led the popularisation of fiction back in the Industrial Revolution;
  • The Works, a young upstart whose stores are cheap and cheerful, usually packed with items and nick-nacks I have no interest in purchasing but there’s always the chance of a discount steal. Indeed for a long while I did not know that The Works sold books!

Why am I telling you this? Waterstones would have you believe that the acquisition of Foyles is about challenging Amazon as the big intangible behemoth. Whether that’s strictly true (or if it’s a calculated attempt to simply buy up market share) is not really the remit of my blog but it’s a precursor to the point I want to make and started with in the first Book Thoughts post.

But what’s interesting is that each of those three major chains seems to have carved out their own particular part of the book market – Waterstones is perhaps more “premium”; WH Smiths is more in the middle; The Works serves the budget end of the market. And that’s actually a great thing as it serves the entirety of the market with pretty good bookshop coverage – something for everyone!

Not only, in recent times, do I read more physical books while my Kindle gathers dust in a drawer, I find myself purchasing these books in a physical bookshop – usually but not always a Waterstones. Waterstones is certainly not the cheapest place to purchase books but, much like libraries, physical, tangible bookshops I think are important to support.

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I’ve actually been one of those people who goes into a bookshop and photographs a book to look it up later. Indeed, throughout University my first port-of-call would be to buy the paperback on Amazon and have it whisked at near-light speed to me via Prime – because it was convenient and I was hardly the most assiduous student, a fact I take no pride in.

But what I’ve noticed more than anything… buying books on Amazon is so mechanical and, if you like, soulless an experience it’s a little disheartening. What Waterstones, especially, but the others do well also, is to foster a sense of discoverability. Browsing in Waterstones is a joyous experience because their stores are near-universally great places. There’s a sense of care and attention, maybe even a bit of personalisation in each when it comes to the table displays and endorsement cards that adorn shelves.

Again, whether that’s a corporate missive or genuine is neither here nor there. This post is not intended to be a treatise on the rights and wrongs, and the motivations of large companies. I’ve had wonderful experiences buying books from Waterstones, chatting to engaged and enthusiastic staff… it’s an experience I feel Amazon cannot replicate. Amazon does a lot well, but this is one thing I feel visiting a physical store cannot compare to.

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My local Waterstones in Sutton, South London. Photo credit: Tony Monblat

That’s not to say Waterstones as a company is perfect. I’m aware of stories where they’ve acted what seems to be capriciously in notable times, and they’ve perhaps thrown their weight around as the UK’s dominant bookseller to mistreat authors. And it’s easy to chalk them up as another “big corporation” – this is by no means a total defence of Waterstones, but neither is it a total defence of Amazon. Waterstones may still be the biggest bookshop chain in the UK, and about to grow some more, but even then as a corporate identity Amazon is a truly gargantuan behemoth.

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My local Waterstones in Sutton, South London. Photo credit: Tony Monblat

What I am defending is the experience that a physical bookshop gives to its customers – this an experience I am totally in favour of. Waterstones are the totem of what I’d call a welcoming environment for book lovers – not to say independent bookshops are worse, but Waterstones as a brand are cementing their position. And their shops – like all bookshops – are ones we should support as readers.

Physical books are making a surprising comeback, and I’m happy to think about factors other than solely the bottom line on my wallet. I’m happy to pay for the experience of walking into a bookshop and enjoying the experience of being there. Amazon might have the convenience and price factor (and I’m not for one moment saying I’ll never buy a book on Amazon again) but they lack the experience and discoverability that walking around a physical bookshop can provide.

Oh, and the irony among irony? Waterstones’ website is a pale imitation of Amazon – so the battle lines are drawn!

 

Book Thoughts: Format (Or how I unexpectedly fell into the arms of physical books)

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

Book Thoughts by Richard Holliday

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.

black tablet computer behind books
Photo by Perfecto Capucine on Pexels.com

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.

What happened?

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.

library university books students
Photo by Tamás Mészáros on Pexels.com

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?

reading reader kindle female
Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

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!

Articles cited

The Guardian: Paperback fighter: sales of physical books now outperform digital titles

The Guardian: How real books have trumped ebooks

The Telegraph: How printed books entered a new chapter of fortune