Like many others I have an e-reader. I like it--don't love it. I can snuggle up in bed on cold winter nights and don't even have to reach out from under the covers to turn a page. I just click on an arrow and continue reading. I feel guilty using it, though.
You see, I love bookstores. I love the smell of fresh ink on crisp, new pages. I love bright dust jackets with attention-grabbing illustrations--no dog ears or wrinkles. I love looking around at folks perched on benches or curled up in leather armchairs with their nose in a book, newspaper (oh, don't even get me started on newspapers) or a slick magazine. I love to see kids sitting on the floor with half a dozen books around them trying to pick the perfect one. Libraries rank way up there, too. The aroma is more mellow and pages are now slightly yellowed, but this is typical of mature printed matter.
Sadly more and more print material is slipping into oblivion. At least two of my local newspapers are online only. A major chain of bookstores is closing its doors. Ironically their demise was due largely to their lack of a popular e-reader with their name on it.
And while trees may be saved and the Dewey Decimal System is no longer necessary learning in schools, I do feel guilty using my e-reader. One sacrifices much for the sake of convenience and seemingly unlimited storage.
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