Well...

...that didn't last long. I've had my Kindle less than a month, and I've already lost it. Half-way through an exciting book, too. And I LOVED it. It was so small and neat and easy to manage, and I'd bought it a posh cover, which (ridicuously) cost a third of the price of the Kindle itself), and it looked so smart.

I was going to end this post with a few choice expletives - one of them mght even have begun with F - but decided not to. In the interests of good taste and propriety.

(And in case any anti-e-readers see this post, I still love real books, and always will. But if we buy any more, we'll have to move out to make room for them.)

Ode to my new Kindle

I'd always thought to use a Kindle
On a par with mortal sin-dle,
Thoughts of books consigned to bin-dle
Sent small shivers up my skin-dle.

But my wonderful son gave me one for Christmas, and I LOVE it!

The pleasure of a real book

There's been qutie a lot of discussion on blogs and elsewhere about e-readers versus real books. I can see both sides of the argument (if there still is one). E-readers are handy, convenient, clear, light to carry. What's not to like? John found his invaluable when he broke his arm - it was easily managed with his good arm, and page-turning wasn't a problem. He will certainly take it on holiday.

But today, I was reminded yet again of the sheer pleasure of a real book. A new book* arrived this morning (courtesy of a Christmas Amazon token), and as I flicked through it, glanced at the reviews and the biograhy of the writer, felt the lovely clean, tight newness of a hiterto unopened paperback, smelled that new-book smell, admired the rather nice cover illustration, I knew that, for me, there's no comparison. I may yet acquire a Kindle, but it won't be the same. It will be like, say, drinking from a plain china cup rather than a beautiful porcelain one. The drink will be the same, but the experience just won't be.

*The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, as recommended by Alis!