This really is absolutely my last post on the subject of Kindles. The topic is so old hat by now and I realise it’s like discussing whether it’s safe for trains to exceed 25 miles an hour, or whether having a television set is liable to lead me down the slippery slope to eternal damnation.
So after all the usual declarations that you’d never catch me alive with one of those instruments of Satan in my hands, I am forced to declare that I have finally sold out. There it sits now on my desk, snug it its little blue leatherette case.
Through the powers of google, and by finding the magic powers to translate pdfs into documents with some outlandish new file extension, I find I can now slip all four volumes of Sabine Baring-Gould’s Lives of the British Saints into my bag – all at the same time. So maybe they don’t have those luxurious green leather bindings with the titles in gold lettering, but they are still a treasure that no one should need to travel without.
Though selling out is really the key. At the end of it all, it was economics that forced me to take this drastic step.
Item Mrs Carver – The Horrors of Oakendale Abbey print edition £29.95, kindle £5.50
Item Francis Lathom – Astonishment! print £29.99, kindle £5.50
Item Eleanor Sleath – Pyranean Banditti print £34.99 Kindle £4.50
Item Matthew Lewis – The Bravo of Venice print £14.40, Kindle – Free
Much as I may have preferred the weight of the paper volumes in my hands, turning the pages one by one as I think of the horrors inside; rather than, as I still do, regularly skipping randomly through the novel as i casually and inadvertently press too hard on the wrong part of the screen. Much as I would love to see these volumes shining forth from my bookshelves as I climb the stairs, it is economics, pure and simple, that have driven me to this state. The damned thing has already paid for itself, and , if I hope to pursue more heroines through their dark and perilous adventures then I never had any real alternative.
So yes, it’s time to get over myself and embrace the technology. These devices are here, if not to stay, at least to pave the way for future technologies to infiltrate their way into our reading habits. I am already eagerly anticipating the day when I can buy a machine that projects the pages onto a pair of spectacles so that I can continue reading as I walk through the town, becoming as socially and spatially unaware of my surroundings as all those who currently find it impossible to move outside without having music piped into their ears.