Recently I have found myself reflecting on the way that I feel toward my Barnes & Noble nook. In several of the library science classes I've taken, ereaders have taken center stage for debate on the future of libraries. Ereaders--do we love them? Do we hate them? Can one ever have the same kind of attachment to a device as one can to the bound and visceral pages of a book, new or aged?
I've found that some librarians love them. Some outright reject them--not to create a stereotype here, but I find these librarians have never actually held one in their hands. I think there is a conditioned fear of change within the library community that these personal, miniaturized libraries will one day replace the brick-and-mortar establishments. I believe this is possible, though not likely. Libraries, whether physical or online, are organized repositories of the things we are looking for, and we will always need these places. We will always need librarians to assist us in the search or application of what we find. I find that once a hesitant librarian actually faces the tiny, attractive villain that they think ereaders are by holding one, they become much less intimidated. Ereaders have needs to--in a way, they have created more services for the library to provide, and in turn, more actual need for libraries themselves.
I love my ereader. I hesitate to say I love it like I love an actual book, but I do love it at least as much--I would say it's like children, but I have none, so I'll say it's like good friends. You love your friends. You love them all equally, but probably in different ways and for different reasons. Books and nook are like that for me. I love my nook to an almost unhealthy extreme, which is probably brought on by the fact that it has provided me so many positive and intimate story time experiences, and it's small enough that I don't have any excuse to part myself from it. It goes everywhere with me, in my purse. Unlike a book that gets swapped out on completion, the nook remains, along with all the stories I have previously read on it. I don't have to worry about finding a purse to fit the dimensions of each book I read, because about 2 months after purchasing the nook, I invested in one that could fit it.
Then, there is also the unbridled freedom of anonymity that the device provides. The cover I bought (I have the Bronte cover in Storm offered by Barnes & Noble, with a picture of me and my husband kissing at our wedding on the front) doesn't betray anything of what I might be reading on my nook at any given moment. I can read romance novels in public without the self-consciousness that strangers will judge me. I can read my old teen fic favorites or downloaded geeky fan fiction on my college campus and claim it's a text book on interacting with geospatial technologies if anyone asks. I can read The Count of Monte Cristo for the tenth time without having to hear my husband say "that book? again?"
For me, the proof is in the reading. Because I used to find it cumbersome to switch out my purse to fit every new read, my pleasure reading was limited to before bed. Now, because I can read whatever I want without anyone being the wiser, and the nook goes everywhere with me, I read before class, after class, in waiting rooms, over lunch at work, and anywhere else I have a few spare moments. In the 3 months I've had my nook, I've read 5 novels, 4 short stories, a handful of free previews (the first 3-5 chapters of a novel). I don't have to tell you what I've been reading (HA!) because that's the beauty of the nook, but titles include The Stand, The Mist, Rosemary's Baby, and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. A note to librarians: 3 of the 5 novels I've read on my nook so far were digitally "checked out" from local library offerings. Between the ereader and audiobooks, I'm going through about a book a week now (!) in addition to what I need to read for school and work.
I'm halfway through my latest pick--Enchanting the Lady by Kathryne Kennedy. I was a little skeptical at first, because some of the story seemed contrived and there are some names that will make you role your eyes (there's a Prince, and his name is Albert, and so he is Prince Albert--maybe I'm the only one whose brain is stuck in middle school, but I laughed out loud when I read it). However, by the end of chapter 4 the character of Sir Terence had me hooked, and since that point the story has carried itself despite a few other minor distractions. It was a free offering from Barnes & Noble, so I can't really complain; I'm not sure at this juncture if sequels have been written to this book, but I might be tempted to purchase them having read this offering.
Alula
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