

But when it comes to Books and their transformation from pulp to pixel, it's the collector inside that seems to take over. I am less concerned with needing to teach my page-turning finger the new 'drag across the screen' move, and more concerned with the loss of my teetering stack of novels. I like the idea of letting a pristine collection of pages gather character as I move through the chapters. I like that my copy of Treasure Island has held on to a few grains of Mayan Riviera sand from my first trip to Mexico; that I have folds and scars on the cover of Jack Kerouac's On the Road from hostile floors and train station benches, dating my 2007 Euro Adventure; that it looks like each page of my Confederacy of Dunces book has been pawed three or four times, because it has; and that my copy of the Catcher in the Rye is broken-down and beaten-up because it was held hostage for several months by a book-murderer (my brother). The story behind the story about the story.

At this point the electronic book is a forced move for me. And sounding like an old soul who scoffs at change, the e-book lacks the warmth and imperfections of my travelled print copies. It's against my gadget-guru nature to side step the Kindles of the world, but if a scrolling screen can't capture the tears of laughter that now stain the pages of my Catch-22 book, then this word revolution has lost more than it's ability to gift paper cuts.
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