Kindle-ing

Amazon’s Kindle device offers a whole new reading experience. It offers millions of titles for less than conventional paper books, plus portability and book interface options that were previously inconceivable. Those who love it hail that it will replace the paper book and is all the better for it. I say, let’s set it on fire.

I'm no Luddite, but this device is just one more example of a culture characterized by a selfish desire to gain on our own terms. We've become obsessed by the rapid processing of information and failed to realize that analysis and knowledge aren't things that can be rushed. Personal discovery and knowledge integration comes slowly and delicately, fragile to the crushing blow of a mind moving too quickly to pause and ponder.

A book is not just about words on a page, a book is an experience culminating in the cooperation of multiple senses mixed with time and leading to an understanding of greater significance and meaning. The Kindle lets you read on the go, but reading isn't mean for such a context. The feel of the pages between your fingers, the smell of ink in your nostrils and the turning of wheels in your mind are all parts of what it means to read. To thumb through a classic like Steinbeck's East of Eden is like a long, slow drink of whiskey, enjoyed as it was meant to be. You can gulp that whiskey and reach the same result: the glass will be empty. But the value isn't in the completion, it's in the journey.

Some people say this device will have a positive effect on the readership of books. I think that all depends on what the positive effect is. Will more "books" be read than ever before? Most likely this will be the case. But as we accelerate the reading process to its limit, we lose the comprehension and understanding that comes from turning over themes of redemption in books like Silas Marner, depravity in The Heart of the Matter, not to mention the complex tapestry of meaning and rich depth of character in epic poems such as Homer's Odyssey. When you read Shakespeare at the artificially accelerated pace that devices like the Kindle reinforce, you miss the full hilarity of those quick asides in Twelfth Night and the nuanced tragedy of Hamlet's madness. The Kindle encourages sound-byte thinking in a world that is already riddled with loss of meaning, while a paper book, though more expensive and laborious, brings the fruit of knowledge to any patient enough to wait.