Yes, I know how to roll. Being the big swingin'dick in the world of reading, I'm finding it a bit pricy purchasing books weekly. Ive found a new found crush of sorts with the Stanza iphone app, but sometimes (really most times, except on the subway) nothing beats the experience of holding a book. Purist tendencies run deep.
Suppose it comes from an amalgam of senses: the heady mix of content, font, and binding of the book that makes it tough for me to abandon the source of story in its true form. Smell too. I love that crisp paper and ink waft that ensconces page after page. The other sought after attribute, being the book knob that I am... the autographed book. It's tough to have a first edition with a signature when it lives within my itunes folder Stanza account.
The new Sony reader looks and feels like a thin video game. Highly configurable and convenient to tuck into ones' bag, this e-reader by Sony is a nifty gadget, but it's just that...a gadget. The anti technology route? The library. Yes, the library isn't just for blue haired ladies and pedophiles lurking in the teen fiction isles. This is where those of us who burn through best sellers, new fiction work and biographies from the New York Book Review hang out awaiting the next shipment of delicious literature to chew up and spit out. Small city apartments are no match. Welcome the library card.
Except when you are not feeling very welcomed to the neighborhood branch in your new 'hood.
Glad to be as thick skinned as I am. It may have been easier to obtain a Platnium Amex card.
After triple-dog daring the woman behind the library reception desk to a game of "who knows more authors" (I was sadly rebuffed. Bitch.) Where's the love? I was handed a library card as if it was some sacred artifact for humanity's salvation. The saving grace? Today represents the last hurrah of summer with the Blue Angels blasting overhead.. It's time for brunch and a big ole bloody mary.
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