My fight against literary progress ...

I have had a lifelong love affair with books. I was read to by my parents, as are most children; later, I sat at Miss Gilpin's feet during story time in my kindergarten class. Learning to read on my own was having a door open to endless adventures in limitless worlds. I read during every waking moment; if it included a printed word, I read it. Shampoo bottles while I was in the bath, cereal boxes during breakfast, signs in store windows on my way to school, billboards as my parents drove me around. The end of the school year meant a trip to the local library to load up with enough books to last the summer, although they never did. The time spent looking over the many shelves full of choices, finally making my decisions, watching my library card being stamped before carrying the armload of books to the car are memories I still hold dear. Not being able to wait to reach our destination, I would read in the car, much to my parents' chagrin. 'Put that book down! You'll ruin your eyes reading in the car! Look at the scenery instead!'

I still have a few of those books from my childhood, along with a lot of others I haven't been able to part with. The rest have been donated to schools, hospitals or given away to friends or family - a chance to entertain others after their work with me was done. I have thrown away 4 books in my lifetime. I pained me greatly at the time, but they had somehow become wet and developed mold, making it impossible to pass them along to anyone.

I still get a rush when I walk into a library or a bookstore. The possibilities that stretch out in all those rows of books is exciting! I can spend hours roaming the aisles of Chapter's, poring over the the laden shelves, switching my attention from fiction to autobiographies to cookbooks to travel to the classics to children's books ... well, most every subject available, frankly. Then, arms laden with my choices, I stand in line, much as I did years before as a child, waiting to get home and start reading.

A while back, I met a really special guy who is perfect in every way. We agree on everything. Wellllllll ... almost everything. This guy is green. He recycles, has e-subscriptions to all his periodicals, and is a huge proponent of reading books off his iPad.

Ewwwwww! Ick ick ick!!! Phooey! Blech and boooooooooooo!!!

To my mind, part of the pleasure I take out of reading is the feeling of holding the book, the tactile sensation of turning the pages, the auditory sensation of hearing the pages turn, the olfactory sensation of either that new book ink smell or that slightly musty old book smell. Nothing can replace the heft of a hardcover book and no tablet, while certainly able to replicate the sound of a turning page, will convince me that brushing my fingertip against a pane of cold glass is the same as the feel of a real page under that same fingertip.

So we have an ongoing dispute that comes up every so often, usually brought up when he whips out his iPad or when I dig into my carry on for a real book. We have accepted that neither person's opinion is likely to change, even though he still believes that I will buckle and convert. (Don't hold your breath, m'love!)

So, how do you prefer your written word? Old school or the new fangled way? Leave your comments below and hopefully, I will be able to prove to him that technology hasn't won over on this subject!

... and none for me either!