In defense of books or, why I don't want a Kindle

Oh geez. Apparently Amazon announced the next generation of the Kindle today. So guess what Marek, Mr. Reader Pants, has been talking about this morning. (If you guessed anything else than the Kindle, well...I don't really know what to say to you.)

Marek wants me to be excited about the Kindle, but I'm here to make it official: I WILL NEVER OWN A KINDLE. There, I said it.

But Jenn!, you say. OMG! Kindle is so cool! It's so light! It's so thin! It's an entire library of books at your fingertips! You can even surf the web with it!

Look, that's all well and good, but books are books. A Kindle is not a book; it's not even like a book. And I'm a book snob (and darn it, I'm not ashamed of it). I only buy new books (yes, even in college). When I go to bookstores and browse, I 100% judge books by their covers. I think the books on your bookshelf say a lot about who you are, and yes, I will judge you if I think your bookshelf is full of crap and intolerable drivel. And don't even get me started on dog-earing pages.

That being said, you simply cannot replace a book with an electronic device.

When I was younger, I spent many nights in bed, stealthily retrieving my book hidden under the quilt at the end of my bed, and reading by the meager light cast down the hallway by the TV my parents were watching. I was read to my entire childhood, and grew up to read voraciously on my own. If there's one thing I will always have money for, it's books. If there's one thing that gives me solace, it's a well-crafted story.

There is something so sublime about a new book. The way it smells, the way it looks, the story it holds. Its glossy or matted cover. The sharp corners of a well-bound paperback, or that distinctive crackling when you first dig into a hardcover. There's a sense of sadness mingled with joy when you make your first crease in the spine of a paperback. You cannot replace the satisfaction of turning a physical page. You cannot replace a well-stocked and well-loved collection, nor can you replace a well-worn copy of your favorite book.

My father, bless his heart, recently converted to the dark side. Growing up, I always shared a love of books with my father. (He introduced me to Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles...I squirreled away his copy of Memnoch the Devil and read it in secret.) But I will not share his love of the Kindle.

You can take your fancy, black-and-white-only tablet. You can turn your virtual pages and revel in the bits and bytes stored on your device.

I'll be over here, soaking up comfort, surrounded by my books.