The Power of Books, or Why I Don’t Own a Kindle

I don’t own a Kindle. I don’t want a Kindle. I don’t believe they’re the future of books, and I have no use for one. Before I explain why, though, let me concede that I do understand that they have a few perfectly valid uses.

Recently, while talking about the enormous novel Invisible Man in English III AP, the discussion turned to Ellison’s use of a single word: “opportunity.” While the students and I thumbed through our books, furiously searching for occurrences of the word, searching for a pattern in the text, a girl at the back who had been reading the book on her Kindle raised a hand and said, “I’ve got them all right here. Kindle lets me search the text.” I was dumbfounded. For the purposes of scholarly interaction with a novel, an e-reader could act as an immediately accessible concordance to any text. What a boon!

Similarly, I have an acquaintance who has spent the last few years of her life laboring over her doctoral thesis, and she squeezes in a few minutes of work anywhere and any time she can. The challenging part of that arrangement, of course, is having the thousands of pages of reference materials that she might need at any given moment readily available for her perusal. She explained to me that she has loaded all of those documents into her Kindle, and it is her personal reference library for working when she’s not at home. This seems like a fantastic idea.

Of course, the paragraphs above are about the kinds of books used for research and academia. For many people, though, the “book vs. digital” debate isn’t about research at all; it’s about leisure reading. They wonder whether the Kindle will replace their trusty, well-thumbed copies of their favorite novels.  A relatively small percentage of the books I read are the subjects of academic debate. They’re mostly just for my personal enjoyment. In this context, I just love books…real books. I carry them around, and people ask me what I’m reading. Many interesting conversations have begun this way. I write in the margins, and years later I can see what I was thinking and how I reacted to the events I read. I lend them to friends, and the physical passage of a book from one hand to another carries far more weight than a simple recommendation to download this or that file. I browse book stores for first editions and signed copies of my favorite novels, and my personal library grows constantly. My collection has not only monetary value; it is also a record of ideas with which I’ve interacted, roads I have traveled in my mind. One day, my collection will be passed on to another generation of readers.

Let me relate a couple of anecdotes that illustrate my point.

On the bookshelf at my house, there’s a hardcover copy of a novel called The Monarch of Deadman Bay by Roger Caras. It’s a good book, but it’s not great. It’s the life story of a Kodiak bear. It’s on my shelf today because, for as long as I can remember, it’s always been in my house. When I was a child, there were a few books in our house, but my parents didn’t keep a personal library or anything. The Monarch of Deadman Bay, though, was one of the relatively few “adult” books we had in the house. My father had read it. I don’t know where he got it, and he and I never talked about it, but when I was old enough to handle it (about 13 years, as I recall), I read and enjoyed the book. When I moved out of my parents’ house, I asked them if I could take it with me. I don’t know if they understood why; in fact, I’m quite sure that they had both forgotten they even owned it. Now, it stands on my bookshelf, the only volume in my library that both my father and I have read. I don’t mean that we both read books with the same title; we both read THIS book. My copy of The Monarch of Deadman Bay is a story my father and I have both experienced. We’ve both held those very pages between our fingers and followed the adventures of that Kodiak bear. One day, when my father is gone, The Monarch of Deadman Bay will be one of the clearest symbols of the connection he and I share. It just wouldn’t be the same if he and I had read the same electronic file on a Kindle.

As I said earlier, I collect signed editions of novels I love. Yes, they’re relatively few and far between. Yes, the search for a reasonably priced copy can be a rather long one. None of this deters me, though. Each time I open a signed copy of one of my favorite novels, I know that I’m handling a volume that has also been handled by its creator. My connection to the author and the text takes on a deeper level of meaning. In a few truly fantastic moments, I have had the privilege of meeting some amazing authors and chatting with them while they signed my copies of their books for me. To date, I’ve met Tim O’Brien, Sherman Alexie, Sandra Cisneros, Karl Marlantes, Gary Paulsen, and Tea Obreht. Each of them has signed a book (or two, if I’m lucky) for me. Talking to these authors about their work in person is a kind of interaction, scholarship, and good will unlike any other in the literary world, and it’s all predicated on the idea of book signings. Without books, I seriously doubt authors would hold events where they met with readers to click their Kindles.

Finally, I love having books in my home. Those of you who’ve visited me know that I have two six-foot bookshelves in my living room and an entire wall of books in my foyer that reaches up to the ceiling. To sit on my sofa is to be surrounded by hundreds of books. Guests in my house often get up and pore over the bookshelves, looking for familiar titles or wondering what I’ve been reading. When they find a title they know, we often share wonderful conversations about books we’ve both read. When they see something of interest, I’m happy to lend out a copy so we can talk about it later. As Micki’s kids become increasingly aware of the books on my shelves, I want them to see that books–and by association, knowledge, art, and culture–have value and hold an important place in my heart, my mind, and my home. A collection of files on an e-reader just can’t do that.

So go ahead and use your Kindle, if you like, but please for the love of God, stop asking me why I don’t have one and explaining how it’s just so much more convenient than my “old-fashioned” books. My love of books transcends a love of words and stories. I love the books themselves. They have a value for me that electronic text never can. If you want to talk about this, come on over to my living room, and let’s discuss it amongst the books.

Snow!

The other day, February 23, we had snow. I’ve lived here for nine years, and this is only the third time I can remember snow. The last two times were just a dusting, but this was legitimate snow. I’d estimate that we got about three inches. Of course, it was all gone by noon the next day, but it was still a welcome change. For a moment there, this MidWestern kid felt at home.

The MANsion looks good with a blanket of snow, wouldn't you say?

Not the best time to lounge on the patio...

Full disclosure: In the first photo, I photoshopped out a dead plant in my front bed. In the second photo, I eliminated a styrofoam cooler that somehow ended up under my deck.

Say Hello To My Little Friend

It seems that Tiger and I are not alone here at the house. In the past week or two, I’ve had about five encounters with a little guy who seems to live in my back yard.

Meet Pierre.

His full name is Pierre Lapin, which is the French translation of Peter Rabbit. I’m assuming that he was born this Spring or early Summer, since he’s only about eight inches long from his nose to his fluffy little tail. When he appears, he’s usually hopping out from under my patio because some big ogre is walking toward the steps that lead down to the yard. I’m guessing he lives under there, which is just fine with me. In fact, I’m going to get some vegetables next time I buy groceries and see if he wants to be friends.

Pictures of the House

As some of you know already, my mom and dad drove down from MN last week to help me finish furnishing and settling into the new house. Dad also helped me with several small repair projects. We had a fantastic week while they were here, but their visit had to end early this morning so they could both get back to MN. Now that the house is actually livable, I thought some pictures might be a good idea.

This is the front of the house, obviously.

Here's the entryway. That door on the left is the front door. I really like the built-in bookshelves here.

The entryway leads into the living room, complete with wood floors, bookshelves, and area rugs. That macrame lion on the wall has been in my family for a long time.

This is the living room from another angle. Big thanks to FlashCap for hooking me up with the TV. The painting above the fireplace is probably my favorite thing in the whole house.

The living room, as you can see, opens into the dining room. Mom bought this dinette set at a garage sale and brought it down for me. Notice the wine fridge!

The dining room leads into the kitchen, in which you will occasionally find Dad hanging out shirtless and wearing my Crocs.

Heading back into the living room and then down the hall, you'll find Tiger's bedroom on the right. He lets me keep my computer desk and albums in there.

Across the hall from Tiger's room is the Miley Cyrus bathroom. It was decorated by the former owner's niece. I've decided to embrace it.

At the end of the hall is the master bedroom. I'm still working on decorations, but it's comfortable. There's a huge empty space at the other end of the room that will eventually be my reading room.

The master bathroom isn't huge, but at least there are no teen "superstars" on the walls.

The best part of the house is the huge patio. Dad sometimes hangs out shirtless here, too.

Thank you so much for all your help, Mom and Dad. I love you guys.

BRP Buys A House

If I’ve spoken to you in person recently, you probably already know that I’ve made an offer on a house and that the offer has been accepted. I guess there’s still some chance that I won’t buy this house, since the inspection is tomorrow afternoon. Nothing short of a tragic revelation is going to change my mind at this point, though.

The house I’ve chosen is just over in Bryan, not particularly far from where I live now. It’s a small place, but small in a cozy way, not in a cramped way. After all, how much space could one guy really need? I’ll have two bedrooms, so there will be room for a library or a guest room until the day I’m lucky enough for a child to come along.  For the first time in years, I’ll have a garage, a back yard, and a fireplace. I’m quite excited.

This is what the house looks like from the street.

While the house itself is appealing, it’s not main reason I decided to make this purchase. The best thing about this property is the location and the lot. I’ll be living in a fantastic neighborhood, full of families and regular middle-class folks. The lot, as you can see from the picture, features quite a few full-grown post oak trees. I counted them when I was viewing the property, and the total is somewhere around 20, including both the front and back yards. With that many big trees around, most of the yard is shaded. The back yard is fully enclosed in a wood privacy fence, and the deck is fantastic. I can already imagine having friends over for a barbecue out in the back yard.

The deck is shaded by the trees and covered by a lattice. Notice the swing and the garden that goes all the way around.

If you were standing at the spot where this second picture was taken and looked along the deck to the left, you’d see about ten yards between the edge of the deck and the fence that runs along the side of the yard. All along that fence, there are gardens. Gardens also border the deck and the back of the house, as you can see. Right now, the gardens are unused, and they’re mostly full of dead leaves, but I can already see them as they’ll be once I spend some time revitalizing them. Still standing at the place where the picture was taken, if you looked to your right and behind you, you’d find a good-sized back yard with many more post oak trees. It’s really gorgeous.

Until now, I’ve never really been committed to staying in this town. My family is in Minnesota, and I know they’d rather have me go back there than choose to stay here. For that reason, this has been a difficult decision. When I stop and think about it, though, I find that I have put down roots in this town while I wasn’t even noticing. My job is fantastic. The school district treats its employees magnificently. When I talk to people who work in other schools, the stories they tell really make me appreciate my job. My friends (you know who you are) are the best I’ve ever had. You’re the most supportive, caring, fun, intelligent, dedicated, laid-back group I’ve ever known.  To leave you now would tear me up. So…I’m making a decision. I’m not saying that I’ll make it to the end of my thirty-year mortgage, but for the foreseeable future, paint my name on the mailbox because I’m staying.

A dear friend of mine recently wrote, “I am an adult, an adult living in a college town.” How very true. I lived in a lot of college towns during my “college on tour” years, but this one is by far the most centered on its university. Life here revolves around the college. In some ways, I’ve lived like a college kid for the past five years or so. It’s been a blast, and having a roommate is one of the choices that has allowed me to financially prepare for buying a house. I’m going to miss The Man Cave, with its three televisions and multiple seasons’ worth of fantasy football draft boards still hanging on the walls. Nonetheless, it’s time to step forward. Besides, I can still hang the draft boards in the garage.

Already, many of you have offered to help me move, to help me paint and decorate, and to lend me things like lawnmowers and weed trimmers until I get my own. You’ll be the first to see the house. As soon as the house is presentable, I want to show it to all of you. Having my own home will give me a silent sanctuary when I need it, but more importantly, it will give me place to gather the people I care about. Mom, Dad, Chissom, Cameron, friends, I want my house to be a place I can share with all of you. Come knock on my door.