An Argument Kindled

I was stocking shelves at Target the other day, and a few of my coworkers were discussing the Amazon Kindle, which our Target will carry beginning in a few days. They were raving about the Kindle and how many books it can hold and how convenient it is.
I kept my mouth shut as they conversed. You see, I'm anti-Kindle.

It's not that I don't see the joys of a portable library. It's convenient, it's easy, it's a lifesaver for people with bad eyes who need bigger fonts, people who travel a lot and don't want to carry heavy books around, and even for people who fancy themselves up on the newest technology.

It's just that I like my books. I like the weight of them in my hands. I like being able to flip back to a certain page with ease. I like the notes on the inside front cover of some of them ("From Grandma and Grandpa , November 2005"). I like that I even own a signed copy (how does an author sign a Kindle book??). I like that I can look over at my bookshelf and see all of my books lined up, their spines colorful and varied and enticing. But most of all, I think, I like the tradition of books. Books began as something so valuable and so rare that only the wealthy could afford to own them (and read them, for that matter). They have done so much for us throughout the centuries. Books have been deemed dangerous enough to ban, and even to burn. They've told stories and started wars and won awards.

I think it hurts me a little bit to think of something so wonderful being traded in for words on a screen. The story's still there, I know, but the magic is lost for me. I look into the future and I find that I might someday have to face a bitter reality; my career as a writer may very well be limited to something entirely electronic.

The thing is, though, my brain is not a computer.

I can embrace technology when it saves lives. I can embrace technology when it helps to stem the oil spurting from the Gulf of Mexico. But I cannot embrace technology when it turns the form of art dearest to me into a mere white box with a keyboard attached.