Building cyber library has appeal

I recently asked a friend in her late 20s if she planned on amassing a home library. She said that owning books isn’t a priority for now, as she’s gotten tired of moving them (having moved frequently over the years); she prefers audio books and the library.

While I understand and respect this, for me, a house without walls of bookshelves isn’t home. And what’s the fun of moving or painting, without unloading seemingly endless shelves, packing seemingly unlimited boxes, carting said heavy boxes in and out, unpacking, and then reloading seemingly countless literary treasures back on the shelves?

Reading is my passion and pleasure, and I’ve always had an ongoing wish list. Before the Internet made readily available out-of-print hardcover books, in every town we visited, I made a pilgrimage to a good used book store. My husband Richard would wander outside to avoid that allergy-aggravating odor as I happily hunted for, and sometimes secured a prize. I’ve also snagged finds through library sales. We enjoy wandering big bookstores, and visiting other cities’ main libraries.

Our own bookshelves glisten with the jeweled tones of colorful spines, which promise blissful immersion in other worlds. Our collection, amassed over the decades, brings a satisfying and pleasurable feeling of ownership. Because we were taught that “books are our friends,” we handle them with care; some look as if they’ve never been opened.

There’s something about a book I can hold in my hands that still thrills me – the look of it, the cover, the reality of it in space and time, the feeling of permanence. Books aren’t only an aesthetic pleasure, they’re a kinesthetic experience: the weight, the feel of the cover, the paper texture, physically turning a page; sometimes underlining or putting in sticky notes; knowing a sentence’s exact location on a page, and that it’s about a third of an inch into a book. It’s a unique experience.

However, the future is here and I embrace it.

With the growing popularity of wireless e-readers, “page” and “book” have new meanings. I’m one to keep up with the times, even while suffering technology brain-cramp. Already hooked on my iPod Touch (is there an App for that?), I’ve been eyeing that amazing new iPad, with all it’s e-possiblities.

I fantasize about having, at my literal fingertip, a personal e-library of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of books (many my budget has denied), newspapers, blogs, magazines, and PDFs—in color, in my chosen font and size, with text to speech, and more. All of which I could carry on a plane in my handbag. Now that’s flying the heavenly skies.

Why clog up perfectly good wall space at home with a voluminous collection of physical books only an antiquarian will love in the probable future? Think of the dusting I could save myself and the box-toting I could spare Richard. I could replace some really old books and a load of browned paperbacks that are pretty odorous. My home library could be contained within a thin small tablet (“have you seen my e-reader, hon?” “I think it’s on the couch under the cat.”). No “wasting” time wandering bookstores, when I could save the gas and download my choices for around 10 bucks or less.

Yes, I think an e-reader will be fantastic, and expect to eventually have one. Still, I won’t be dumping most of my books just yet.

Because if we ever have an electromagnetic pulse that wipes out life as we know it, including every electrical device known to man, I’ll still have something to read.

If my glasses don’t break.