A Book In the Hands

Over a year ago, I illustrated a book called Please Don’t Tickle the Tiger, a collection of children’s poems written by a friend of mine. He decided self-publish it as an e-book. This opened the way for all of my following e-publishing adventures. It was interesting to see my work glowing on a kindle screen. There was a certain sense of accomplishment.

            But that didn’t compare to the bursting-chest, proud-parent, giddy feeling I got two weeks ago when I held the first PRINT edition of Please Don’t Tickle the Tiger in my hands.

            It’s real.

            I can run my fingers along the edges.

            I can smell it.

            I can turn the pages and hear them rustle.

I am not anti-e-book. I think it’s a fantastic opportunity that offers a level playing field to authors who used to have no hope. I think it may even lead to some positive changes in the whole publishing industry. E-books are very affordable (especially if you find freebies), near-effortless to store and transport, and require no dusting.

            But they are also very…electronic.

            They are smooth, swift, and silent. They belong to the world of Internet and computers, a mental realm of instant communication that makes no physical contact. E-books are still stories—there’s nothing “artificial” about them in that way. I’m excited about stories being shared, no matter what the medium.

            But e-books CANNOT replace physical, print books. If the future is destined to be one of all-electronic media, as some people theorize, then mankind will have lost something very precious. E-books and print books are not each other’s enemies. They are simply different creatures. One, I dare say, has more lasting charms.

            I have not yet sat down and read an e-book straight through for pleasure. I have too many print books beckoning.

A person can have a relationship with a print book.

Reading one uses all of your senses except taste—unless you’re one of those people who lick their fingers to turn the pages. Print books have geography. You can leave a bookmark in it to track the progress of your quest. You can hold it open to one place while flipping through another, defying time and space. Print books can become mementos, holding your handwritten notes (or those of someone before you), a letter, receipt, or some other piece of life tucked between the pages, the stain of a squished bug from that beautiful day you read out in the yard, or maybe even ripples from your tears.

            Yes, having a print book is like having a relationship. You’ve got to take care of it to keep it in good condition, and it can be clumsy, heavy, and prone to mishaps. But when the electricity goes out, the battery of your kindle drains away, and all you have left to read by is a flickering candle…guess who’ll still be there for you.