True Books

“Smaller than a breadbox, bigger than a TV remote, the average book fits into the human hand with a seductive nestling, a kiss of texture, whether of cloth, glazed jacket, or flexible paperback”

– John Updike

No, Updike was not referring to a cell phone or tablet.  For me, I don’t suffer tablets well or is it vice versa?  More often than not, the first thing I have to do when I decide to pick mine up is to plug it into a charger.  My daughter gets the most use out of it connecting Netflix to the TV so she can watch Sponge Bob or Barbie.  I got ambitious once and downloaded six electronic field guides on trees, birds, insects, wildflowers, butterflies, and mammals.  The icons looked pretty on the screen but that’s about as far as it goes.

My cell phone is much the same.  If it wasn’t for the camera and weather alerts, I wouldn’t really need my smart phone, although it does make a good alarm clock.  The smart phone is a conversation killer.  I remember in college when you went into class there would be conversation among my classmates.  My son now tells me there is virtual silence before class starts as students are bent over at their desks, not talking with each other or reading a book, but banging out text messages, tweeting, or otherwise lost in the world of social media.  I am convinced that there will soon be a new ailment directly attributable to bending over while staring down at a screen, some type of scoliosis of the neck.  When I travel, I always try to do a quick count of the number of people that pull out an honest to goodness book in the airport or on the airplane.  I am pretty certain, at least as far as my unscientific study goes, that I am in the minority.

I prefer to cling to that thing that’s smaller than a breadbox and bigger than a TV remote – a flesh and blood field guide, my well-worn copy of Walden, Leopold’s Sand County Almanac, or Olson’s Reflections from the North Country.  Reading these classics on a tablet for me would be sacrilegious.  There are those who will say, “Oh, John, wake up to the 21^st century.”  In response, I say, I have but I am very happy having a foot back in the 20^th.  I still like to hold the morning paper in hand, even if I have to wash the ink off after I’m done reading.  When I walk into my den or living room and pull a book from the shelf, I feel the knowledge it contains.  Each animal seems poised to jump off the page of a field guide, I plumb the depths of Walden Pond, the smell of the North Woods wafts from Olson’s pages, and Sand County comes to life.  I stare at a Kindle and see a black screen, void of that kiss of texture and seductive nestling in the palm of my hand; void of the connection I feel with each printed page in a book.  For me, the pages turn and the fire still burns (Thank you, Goodnight Moon, written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd).

“To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble exercise.” 

– Henry David Thoreau