Why I Won’t Stop Buying Paper Books
And how this is not laggard innovation adoption
I get it. Lugging around my boxes of books every time I move is a hassle. Physical books are heavy, made from trees, and are twice as expensive as a Kindle book on Amazon. Instead of bringing one book on your vacation to save on weight and space, you could bring the equivalent of a small library on a lightweight device.
All these arguments are sound. But…not going to happen. Kindles don’t have Hungry Caterpillar reading circles at the library, or quirky used bookstores where you run into your favorite author, or the exciting discovery of a free little library on your morning walk commute. You are not going to discover a fascinating copy of Richard Wright’s Native Son, surrounded by books in Dutch and German, in a bungalow dive resort somewhere deep in Indonesia. You will not have memories of getting your first library card at 6, and feeling like the most grown-up child in the world. Also, Kindles can’t mimic that smell.
Clearly, I am a bookworm. But beyond that fact, there is something ubiquitously pleasing about books. The standard form and design of a book has been around for 1500 years. There are few products that can boast that level of continuity in design. Books combine tactile (especially for the blind), sight, and smell senses in their user experience. The spaces that books occupy are typically positive ones of calm, safety, nostalgia, and learning.
Where I grew up, there were few spaces that provided this kind of reprieve. The city’s library was a sanctuary for me, where I could find other kids who struggled with being “different” amidst the tough, street smart exteriors. We would secretly meet and compete in regional reading and writing challenges, never beating the neighboring, more affluent cities, but still feeling validated.
So, even if it is easier, lighter, and more efficient to use a digital book device, I will gladly accept my place with the “Obsolete Man” from Twilight Zone.
