Books

...oh the joyful smell of a book....

The other day I did something I had not done in years. I actually walked into a bookstore. My niece was having a baby shower and the invitation asked that in lieu of a card to bring a baby book. So, realizing that I had not done that, on the way to the party I stopped into my local book store and bought a sweet little baby book. You know the chunky soft plasticy ones, that a little toddler hand, full of jelly or cheese dust, can wrap their tiny fingers around without ruining the pages. The ones where mom can wipe off any gross mess before reading it at bedtime.

The reason I hadn’t been in a book store in ages is simple. Ebooks. I like my kindle. It’s easy to carry and I can store hundreds of books without thinking. (I used to buy books and then send them to my parents. When they passed and I emptied their house, the realtor found hundreds of books I had sent them. I told her she could take what she wanted as I had already read them, and then donate the rest to the local library. So yes, hundreds of books on my kindle.)

I can download samples of books and not have to buy something I end up not liking. I can also get immediate satisfaction when I do want a book (heaven knows patience may be a virtue but when you want to read something you don’t want to wait for the mail). So I have segued to the modern version of the Gutenberg press.

But honestly, my foray into my local bookstore reminded me of when Amazon became a thing. It started simply as a bookstore. Back in the day, one of the things my father-in-law and I would actually do together was to go peruse bookstores. The love of browsing through bookstores was something we shared. I then got a call from him one day about this amazing thing from the internet. There apparently was a website that would mail you books when you ordered them. He was in love with the idea and never looked back.

This of course was about the same time that a friend let me know about this internet phenomena called Etoys, where you could order all our presents without having to brave the stores between Thanksgiving and Christmas. They would even wrap the toy for you. No more fighting for a parking spot and possibly dealing with that one parent who loses their shit because another parent beat them to the last Tickle Me Elmo.

(I can hear it now…ok boomer)

Meanwhile, as I waited for the baby book to be wrapped, I browsed the adult book section- no not that kind of section, but adult fiction section. I was enamored of the hardback book I held in my hand. It was heavy. It had that familiar smell of print and paper. I actually caressed the pages. There simply was a rush in my amygdala and my world seemed whole again.

I had forgotten the absolute feeling of joy in holding a book. I had forgotten the rush I used to feel when flipping pages and seeing the story unfold as the book mark found its way through to the end. I had simply forgotten what it was like to clutch to your heart the pages of a very beloved novel.

I think this was a revelation for me. It had taken me time to switch to the Ebook style. It was actually a painful memory. Much like a withdrawal. It had taken forever to get used to not having those pages in front of me, egging me on to finish the story. In truth the Kindle just doesn’t have the draw. It doesn’t provide the full experience for me.

I did put the book down. No I did not buy the book. It was over 900 pages and I wasn’t about to lug a book that size around. I also wasn’t so sure I would like that particular book as I had purchased previous ones written by this author before and didn’t quite like how he wrote. (As I mentioned above one of the perks of an Ebook is not having to buy books if you don’t like the sample)

Now on the other hand, I haven't given up on pen and paper. I love journals. I love writing. Ok, I do most of my writing on the computer, but I also think that the act of holding a pen has become an act of rebellion.

In truth, writing in cursive is something the young simply cannot do. They also cannot read it. My son in doing a volunteer project had to stop because the papers he was categorising were written in cursive and he said he couldn’t read them. This is not good and doesn’t bode well for much of the future. If you can’t read the original Declaration of Independence or US Constitution how much meaning and understanding will future generations have of the men who wrote it. You do need to understand the societal context in which something is written, and you begin by being able to read in the hand that a document was written.

By the way, there is a proven scientific connection between hand and brain. Writing things down helps us to remember. It helps us learn. Typing on the computer doesn’t have the same effect. Happily I read recently that school districts are bringing back cursive writing. If for nothing else, sometimes you really do need to sign your name and it’s not always an esignature.

Listen, there is a reason that gratitude journaling has such psychological benefits. The hand brain connection in forming ideas and adding to the dopamine sector of your brain. Natural SSRIs. It adds to positive expression. Something we can all use, always.

Meanwhile, I realized that books and journals elicit the same feeling in my soul. The act of holding that page in my hand is something primal. I am not even sure I can put it fully into words, which is quite funny considering I am writing a post about books, journals, and writing. It brings out that part of me that seems to touch history and what it means to be human.

For our books are our stories. No other animal on earth tells stories. Oh they have instinct. They teach their young the lessons of survival. But they don't have stories, or so we think. Who actually knows. We know that other mammals talk to each other. This week we are told that elephants not only talk to each other, but even have names for each other (another reason why it is so cruel to keep fellow mammals alone and apart from their own kind.)

But our stories our our legacy. It is who we are as a people. It is our ability to reach beyond ourselves and touch future generations. We know how the ancients thought not simply because of the rules they created but because of the stories they left behind.

Stories, books, journals are the essence of our civilization. It is who we are and what we want future generations to know about us.

Perhaps that is why the pages of books mean so much to me. It is not the book itself. But the civilization it represents. The stories I want told about my world and the legacy I want left to the future.

But it is also that smell. The smell of a new book. That is the smell I had missed all these years. As I mentioned above, it’s like an addiction….and now I cant get that feeling out of my head.

(P.S. yes I am going to figure out how to support the local bookstore even if I still download to my kindle)