Doesn’t Anybody Read Books Anymore?

I had two packages to mail today; I was sending one package to my sister for her birthday and the other was our tax paperwork to our accountant in California.  The post office on 5 mile road is notorious for its long lines.  They even have a long counter down the middle of the waiting area where postal customers can have a moments reprieve from the weight of their packages while they wait.

When I got there, there were about a dozen people in line in front of me.  No problem.  A while ago I started carrying a novel in my purse for just such an occasion.  This week’s selection:  Seabiscuit: An American Legend.  As soon as I opened it’s cover and found the place where I had left off, I could feel every eye turning and staring at me.  Seriously, it was like these people had never seen a person reading a book before. 

I know that a lot of things have changed since I was a kid.  Technology has changed in leaps and bounds.  Now a days there are laptops that can surf the internet at the touch of a button.  People can even access it on their cell phones (and everyone has a cell phone—even eight year olds).   From the so accessible internet, it is possible to read online or download whole novels.  One can even purchase electronic versions of a book to be read on kindles, e-readers, and now there is even the iPad.  But never in my wildest dreams did I think that there would come the day when books were an oddity.  I thought that nothing could replace the printed word.

Now, I’m not what one would call an ‘avid’ reader.  I do read.  I read a lot, actually.  But I don’t have to read every book I can get my hands on.  I can afford to be choosy.  But I love books themselves.  They each seem to have their own personality.  It’s as if each characteristic of it’s outward appearance is a hint of the story that lies just inside the cover.

I love that each book feels differently in  my hands.  The covers can be smooth, or rough, flashy or even plain.  I love the feel of the paper; the texture begging me to turn the pages.  Their sturdy spines hold a book together.  While a new book’s spine is smooth and flat, an older book’s has creases and has developed a concave shape from being read over and over again.   But most of all, I love the smell of books.  New books smell fresh; a temptation of  the new adventures that await.  Old books smell—Heavenly.  There’s no other word for it.  It’s like a grandparent who has waited for you to come and visit.  They invite you to read the story you probably know by heart.  It’s the story from a time not so long ago, though it may seem like ages from this hectic electronic world.

I suppose that this could be one of the reasons I could never read any college assignment online.  If a professor posted a reading assignment on the internet, I always had to print it out to read it.  I know that it’s not very green of me, but the glow of a computer screen could never compete with the look and feel of the printed word. 

No, for me, nothing can replace a book.