Skip to main content

Papyrus & A Nouveau Niche

Typos aren't half as bad as having an illegible handwriting - a fact that's reaffirmed  each time I have to reach out for pen-&-paper.


But this is not a duel between Fonts and Calligraphy. This is about the tangible feel of a book verses the many alternatives we are being bombarded with everyday.


What's it about a book that makes it such a delight to possess, besides the carefully crafted words it contains? It could be many things - pulling a book off-the-shelf, feeling  the weight of holding it, the texture of a page (rough or glossy), factory-fresh or vintage odour, the feel of flipping through the pages...sometimes leapfrogging to the contents, index or glossary, bookmarking, cracking of the spine as you open a new hardbound book, running your fingers below the line being read...the list is unmatched.


The e-age has brought in a lot of also rans into the fray, jostling for our attention. Desktop PC's, laptops, PDA's and smartphones have now almost endangered posterity from experiencing the joys of reading a book. I'm not really a  Luddite forcefully trying to turn the tide. Far from it, I'm a technology buff and love keeping myself updated with the latest RSS feeds. I've long junked the morning newspaper for the comfort and ease of news from the Web. I stream audio, watch online videos, download music via torrents, dabble with online photo albums, shop online, manage my expenses via spreadsheets and keep my firewall paranoid of everything in 0's and 1's. I'm a Wikipedia contributor, blog frequently (though I never even thought of having a conventional diary), member of many forums and some social networks, frequent the Usenet, email/IM frequently and spend a lot of hours coding to earn a living.


While all this vindicates my affable disposition towards technology, I prefer certain things remaining old-fashioned just for the heck of it. I've never felt the advent of tech toys even remotely threatening the charm of reading a book.


Image:Amazon Kindle - Off 03.png

Amazon's newly launched Kindle is the latest gadget to challenge the real book. It boasts of impressive specs, great conveniences and foolproof use, portability and easy access. In a networked world, you can have instant access to a burgeoning assortment of titles. And yet, for all its conveniences, it can never be what it was supposed to be - a book.


If I could choose between reading a real book and its e-avatar, I would have no hesitation in opting for the former. I know it's a losing battle and toys like the Kindle will eventually rule the roost. Future generations may find my choice unfathomable, but that hardly perturbs my harmony with the book - a real book.


Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still