Kindling

I did something I thought I'd never do. 

I thought I'd never succumb. 

I stood on my soapbox of battered paperworks and screamed, 'Never!'

I have a Kindle.

Yes. A Kindle. And actually, it's very good. It was a gift from The Boyfriend who gave me the get-out of allowing me to say I didn't like e-readers and that he could return or sell it if so. But the gesture, the intention to help me be more easily distracted, find solace once again in books, was so sweet, so meaningful that I tried it and love it.

It solves the practical issue of book storage. Too many books enter my home and when I move, 50% of the heavy boxes are books. It's a joy to be able to carry dozens (one day thousands) of books in my bag, rather than commit to one paperback I can read quickly and its cover gets shredded by pulled in and out of my bag. It keeps me occupied on those long, long bus journeys and any shift work that comes my way. The Kindle books are a bit cheaper than hardcopies, which on a budget helps. But I want authors to make as much money as they can in such an unstable publishing era...

There is an ever raging debate about whether e-books provide a good income stream for authors. I don't know. I know as a reader, I have found more things accessible. Magazines that were only stocked in perhaps two places in the whole of Manchester I can have at a click of the big black BUY button. 99p books make me swoon, though I can't vouch yet for the quality of them.

Some books that went out of print decades ago have not resurfaced as e-books, which is a shame. 

My little library will never be replaced. Some books remain most beautiful in hardcopy, especially as hardbacks. But if it can stop the influx of books eating into the corners of my living room, then so be it. 

And it will help my postie's back a bit.