I received a beautiful Charles Dickens hardback for Christmas, complete with five novels. Oliver Twist, A Tale Of Two Cities, David Copperfield, A Christmas Carol (my all time favorite) and Great Expectations. The weight alone, 1483 pages, is impressive. The gilded pages and heavy dark cover indicate it’s value and overall worth in a time far past.
I also received an iPhone 4gs and with it, a storm of headaches. Half of my iTunes library, to which consists of over one thousand songs, got wiped out. Panic was quickly replaced by anger, replaced by heartbreak. My music. I can’t put into words how important it is to me. How would I replace it all? How would I even remember all of it?
An illustrated copy of Tolkien‘s The Hobbit, a hugely scaled hardback encased behind glass at a local bookstore, spoke to me. It was probably two feet in width and height, under lock and key. I wanted it the second I saw it, untouched and unowned. Books like these are treasures and meant to be treasured and adored. Now it seems they are a dying breed. I bought the book in all it’s 1977 glory.
I’m reading the fourth book in the George R. R. Martin series, A song of Fire and Ice, A Feast for Crows. I’ve been downloading them one by one onto my Nook. It occurred to me over the holidays just how upset I would be if this series, a sure to be classic in its own right, was somehow lost behind the black screen. Irretrievable. Like my music.
If I lost my novels, these treasures of mine — the thought makes me ill. I love the ease and convenience of my Nook. But what about my Dickens, my Tolkien? Is it the same if I have downloaded copies of these masterpieces?
Here’s the glitch with technology. Everything can get backed up, copied, protected. But like with my music, there are no guarantees. And even if there were, is it the same when these legendary authors are hidden behind the black screen? Not for me it isn’t. The history gets lost somewhere in the technology for me. I need the paper for these stories to remain alive and true. Weight, storage, inconvenience — all of those reasons we have to stop buying paper and start downloading — I agree with. Until we start messing with the classics. I’ll take those in all their hardback glory.
“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
The best spam comment I’ve read all week:
“Call me wind because I am blown away by your post!”
Glad I could help.
I am thankful for the gift of words, the gift of insight and imagination. For my love of books and the ability to spend hours reading them.
For friends who stand by me, even when they think I’ve lost my mind or disagree with every decision I make. You keep me upright.
For my family and their unyielding encouragement throughout my life. I would be lost without you.
For my health and sanity.
My ability to run again after my second round of physical therapy.
For music that vibrates my core and spills through me with every beat.
For my cherished memories of times and people past. I miss you.
For the chill of Autumns approach and the fall of red bruised leaves.
For all the gifts I cherish and hold dear in my life, I am truly grateful.
And of course for all of you who read, listen, like, comment and care about what I have to say, even when its utter nonsense. Thank You for listening.