I miss buying books. Once upon a time, I was a voracious reader and a huge amount of my disposable income went to building my personal library. Books were gleefully given and gratefully received as gifts. My interests were (and remain) all over the map, and my library reflected that.
But somewhere along the way, the Internet appeared, and my book buying slowed and then all but stopped. Printed matter seemed to become increasingly—irrelevant—in this age of instant gratification, especially where reference and non-fiction material are concerned since more current information is always available online. Fiction is another matter, but even there I will sooner buy a digital copy and read it on my computer than purchase a physical book. Ben and I still visit bookstores, but it’s rare that I actually walk out with anything.
Another problem, no doubt an unfortunate side effect of our internet obsession—or maybe it’s just another one of those “joys” of growing older—is that I just don’t have the patience or attention span I once did to sit down and actually read at length. And it’s not just books; the same goes for blog posts; if you’ve written more than three or four screens, you can forget about me reading any further, no matter how interested I may be in the subject matter.
Another issue is that I’m at that point in life where I need reading glasses (or, in my case, a monocular contact lens arrangement) in order to focus on anything at reading distance. The one-lens-for-reading, one-lens-for-distance contacts thing, while convenient (since I don’t have to carry reading glasses with me everywhere I go), has never been completely satisfactory. It allows me to function, but it’s next to useless for actually reading anything on paper, except under very bright light. (That’s probably why I prefer reading on a computer display.)
A few weeks ago Ben and I finally made a pilgrimage to the Denver Public Library. It was a great experience; the building smelled almost exactly the same as the University of Arizona Main Library, and I would’ve loved to have spent the day exploring. But at the same time I kept thinking, “There’s really nothing here I want to bring home; anything I might need will be online somewhere.”
Is this sad, or what?
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