Old books

I’m already feeling nostalgic about books, now that the ebook is so fully upon us. When reading, I often pause, and regard the book itself: the lovely ragged edges, the cover, the author photo.

I love a book-lined room, love glancing over the books on my shelves, reveling in the memories that the books evoke. I love book clutter, and now I’m loving it all the more, with advance-longing against a time when all this will change.

The social life of a book

Consider the social life of a book! When I love a book, I look forward to loaning it to friends. How will I get to know someone if I can’t browse the books on his or her shelves? How will I know what people in lines, on airplanes, beaches, buses and subways are reading, if I can’t see the cover? (Yes, I’m a snoop.)

Has the time come?

I tell myself that the time has come. We can’t squander trees endlessly in the production of paper. I tell myself: the book will become more of an art-object, a treasure.

But already, facing a quickly-approaching future, I’m longing for the age that was, The Age of Books.