19 August 2012

An Argument in the Printed vs. Electronic Debate

There is a reason I will always treasure paper made books over their e counterparts. Like last April when I was working on my poetry project. I kept stumbling upon little treasures tucked away in the pages.

A ticket stub.
A handmade bookmark made by a friend 12 years ago.
A note written by my brother when he was just learning to write asking me if I want to play car store with him.
Old bus tickets.
An image cut out of a magazine.
The introduction I wrote for an author event I hosted.
 
There were so many clues left behind from yesterdays. I wonder what it would be like to tell a story not only about the books in a person's library, but also the treasures dwelling within those books.

And then there are stories like the one from last week, the ones that wouldn't be the same without the physical.

But first, a little history.

I had started back to college a bit earlier than most of my friends for RA training and was left with some free time on my hands. I went to the bookstore to pick up books for my classes, thinking I would read a few of my required novels early and give myself a break later in the semester. While I was there I stumbled upon a thin paperback. Non-fiction. A memoir. I remembered that a friend had recently been talking about it and how much she had enjoyed the book, so I bought it. I read it in one sitting and I loved it. I have carried it around with me (from state to state, home to home) for the past 15 years.

That book was Chelsea Cain's Dharma Girl. It has been out of print for quite a few years now.

In 2005 I picked up a new book that had just come into the bookstore. It was called Confessions of a Teen Sleuth and was a lovely story about how Nancy Drew was real and how that bitch, Carolyn Keene, had stolen her story. It was delightful, funny, and filled with references to childhood mysteries. It wasn't right away that I made the connection that this was the same author of the book I loved.

Two years later I was in the office at work when I spotted a white book with a red bloody hand print tucked inside an "evidence" bag. "Case # Heartsick, Item # Cain, Chelsea." I snagged it, read it, loved it.

Now it's five years later and it's the launch of the fifth Archie Sheridan/Gretchen Lowell (the Beauty Killer) book at Powell's. I'd been meaning to have her sign Dharma Girl for a long time, but I either forgot to bring it or decided not to. I have this thing (a courtesy?) where I really only like to have the author sign one book or maybe two. Since I had decided to buy the e-book for her latest, Kill You Twice, I didn't have it for her to sign.

So I finally brought Dharma Girl and smiled when someone asked her if she had a favorite book she'd written and she told the story of Dharma Girl. We didn't have to wait in the signing line long (thanks to my professional training) and when it was my turn, I handed her the book and told her a bit of the story about finding it in my college bookstore all those years ago and following along ever since.

She seemed hesitant to sign it and seemed surprised when I told her I wanted it personalized. This is as rare book (she has declined the opportunities to have it reprinted) and I knew it would be worth more if it only had a signature and not my name.

But I don't buy books in the hopes that they'll be worth more some day. I don't have them signed because I hope to resell them. They aren't a monetary investment for me and I hope they never will be. I go to readings to support the authors I love, to listen to their stories, to renew whatever it is that drives me to write.

So I asked her to put my name in it. She hesitated, her daughter beside her, distracting, as she contemplated what to say. I watched the pen in her hand as she stalled on the start of what words to alter the title page of my pristine paperback. I imagined what was going through her head. I noticed her eyes get a little teary.

I think, in the end, what she wrote was perfect.

Ultimately, it is stories like these that break my heart when I think about e-books. It's why I still buy so many printed ones myself (or sometimes both). It's nice to have the physical reminders of the stories we read and the books that meant so much. It's nice to flip through the pages and find hidden reminders of the past. It's nice to hand the book to a friend and say, "Read this, I think you'll really like it."


A sampling of my Chelsea Cain Collection




Found in my copy of Naomi Shihab Nye's Words Under the Words

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