No review this week, due partly to what I’m afraid is the beginning of a dreadful book slump, myriad career-related stresses, and my “””boyrfriend.””” I love him, but, well, every step a fucking adventure. Ah, modern love.
Anyway. We’re going on vacation next week. I know, right? To Mexico, god help me. Sun, and heat and humidity. The things we do for the broad-shouldered, ill-tempered men who have captured our hearts, eh?
The kicker, and the point of this post, is that this gorgeous philistine has had the audacity to insist I bring no books, or, if I must, bring only a tablet or e-reader. To which I can only respond with:
Oh, sweet summer child! You’re (maybe) dating a librarian – and you think she’s not gonna smuggle at least one paper book with her? Yeah, no.
I mean, we all remember the great e-reader debate of 2011, in which I enumerated the many pros and cons of e-readers(if not, click here to relive the glorious insanity). Although I think I came out pretty strongly in favour of my shiny new kobo back then, these days I tend to do about 75% of my reading with physical, paper and ink books. Gasp, right? Fucking hipsters with their analogue paper and ink. Srsly tho. We’re going to a beach. Beach + electronics = crying. And what if the power goes out or I lose my charger (it’s one of my particular talents, losing chargers)? What if I want to read a book I’ve bought but haven;t downloaded and there’s no wifi? What if I end up getting stuck on top of a pile of Mayan ruins, surrounded by man-eating vines, and my battery dies? What if I need to throw something at someone? An e-reader just doesn’t have the necessary weight to do the necessary damage, man.
Wait, now. Jokes aside, kiddies, that has a whiff of truthiness to it. Weight. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the difference. Paper and ink books feel… weightier. More real, somehow. They’re an experience – or rather, they are the manifestation of the experience the story tells. You go on a journey with a paper and ink book in way you just can’t with an e-book, simply because you hold it in your hands, touch it, hold it, sleep with it, move through it. It’s almost like… like you become a book, too. If the paper and ink book is the container of the story it tells, as we read, we too contain the book. Holy Fahrenheit 451! WE ARE THE BOOKS!
Or maybe I’m my English major/master bullshitter is showing.
Anyway, the point is, I’m bringing some goddamn books – plus my e-reader. Suck it, G, you hot bastard. It took a while to decide, but here’s what I’ve settled on (although I’m not leaving til Sunday, who knows how many books I’ll buy in the next five days, lol): The Flight by Gaito Gazdanov, The Beguiled by Thomas Cullinan, and Final Girls by Riley Sager.
An obscure Russian novel from one of my favourite publishers, a Southern Gothic historical potboiler, and a brand-spanking new horror by a debut author. I am a book-selecting genius, guys, bow to me.
Ok, well anyway-
Uh oh. Gotta go calm down my cat, guys. Wish me luck. He’s got a nasty temper.
The next time you hear from me I’ll be hiding from my nemesis, the sun, and avoiding sand/surf/people. Let the fun times begin!
-xo, R
The Reading Robyn 