When eReaders first hit the market, I swore up and down that I'd never get one. I am a book person, first and foremost. I consider my books my friends. If blindfolded, I'm pretty sure I could identify my favorite books by their smell.
We've been living out of suitcases for 6 weeks now, with all our stuff in storage, and I miss my books most of all (and my knitting needles).
But after playing around with my mom's Kindle during a visit, I decided to make the switch. I am so glad I did.
I love that I can carry multiple books with me. I love how small and light the Kindle is. I love that when I hear an interesting interview on Fresh Air with an author, I can immediately download the book.
I have read more books in the past two months than I had in the previous six, and that's saying something.
Books are less expensive through Kindle, and books that are out of copyright are free. I've been stocking up on P.G. Wodehouse, Edith Wharton and Tolstoy. I've even been exploring older works that I always meant to read but never got around to.
Yesterday, I discovered that I can switch my New Yorker subscription to my Kindle. It's the complete issue, minus the ads, for $2.99 a month, delivered automatically every week. Squee!
There are some books that I will still buy in book form, like David McCullough's newest volume on the artists' community in Paris. It's filled with maps and photos and illustrations that just don't translate on the black and white screen.
But in the meantime, if you need me, I'll be curled up, hiding from the kids, reading my Kindle.
And I promise to make an attempt to get caught up here.