AROUND
THE KITCHEN TABLE
By
Joan Eyolfson Cadham
Books
can offer joys that the Kindle never will
During my recent trip east,
Ruth suggested an outing that she knew would be as satisfying for her
mom as it would for her teenaged sons. “Who wants to go book store
shopping?” she asked.
Ruth’s family lives
on an acreage out of Shelburne. We had to drive to Orangeville but we
still had time to hit two bookstores, stopping first at the Book Nook,
a small store Ruth knows, from previous visits, that I particularly
enjoy.
Book buying is a joyous but
serious business in our family. Books aren’t impulse purchases.
We each know what we like, and we shop carefully. After all, like any
of our friends, a book is going to be with us for a long time. As with
our other friends, we visit favourite books over and over.
My grandsons live within 40 minutes of two good bookstores. I am two-and-a-half
hours away, so for me the outing was a particular treat. Of course,
I can do business by phone with my favourite Saskatchewan book store,
but I’d rather buy books that I have touched and stroked and physically
explored.
My adult nephew, who spent
some time with me when I was east, is also a passionate reader and he
had a burning question for me. Was I going to buy a Kindle?
No, in fact, I was not. Steven
sighed with relief. He carries talking books — his job has him
in a vehicle for much of his working day — but he couldn’t
see the point of a Kindle, either. Yes, you could download 1,500 unillustrated
books into your Kindle, but wireless coverage is spotty, especially
in Saskatchewan where high speed is available only in larger centres.
That means reading on batteries. They’re getting better, but until
recently, batteries lasted four days. Not going to get through 1,500
books in that space of time. And, given the electronics industry craving
for being cutting edge, technology is already changing. How soon before
old Kindles will be stacked up in recycling centres or landfills along
side outdated cellphones and computers?
Besides, my books are my
friends and, like all good friends, they carry precious memories. There’s
my old St. James Bible, a gift from my parents when I was confirmed
in the United Church as a teenager. It has a black pebbly imitation
leather cover, delicate pages and full-colour illustrations. Best of
all, the dedication page is signed by my dad. It’s the only such
item in my life — Mom usually took care of gift-giving and wrapping.
For that matter, there’s my even more ancient Children’s
Bible. The stories are badly told. I knew that even as a child. But
I loved it for the illustrations. I grew up on a farm and didn’t
tour my first fine arts museum until I was an adult. That book was my
childhood art gallery.
I have my grandfather’s
copy of Caesar’s Column, a sci fi story from the late 1800s. The
author periodically left the storyline behind him, devoting several
pages at a time to philosophical ramblings. I loved them even as a child.
Besides, every time I read Caesar’s Column, I am holding in my
hands something a grandfather who died before I was born had held. It’s
my only tangible connection to him.
The technology hasn’t
changed. I can pick up a book that is more than 100 years old and read
it anytime and anywhere I wish. I don’t need to worry about batteries
or about a later model rendering my version obsolete.
There’s another pressing reason why a Kindle is not going to be
part of my life. Because certain books appeal to me at different times,
I often have two or three books on the go. That should make Kindle,
with its 1,500 uploaded titles, my obvious choice. Not so. I have spent
much time at Ruth’s home, where their only phones are cordless.
I know the cry. It goes this way: “Where’s the phone?”
As Kindles get smaller and sleeker, they are going to be as easy to
mislay as a portable phone is. If I misplace a book, there are always
other possibilities within arm’s reach. But what if I misplace
my Kindle? I won’t lose one book. I’ll lose my entire library
of 1,500 books.
In August 2008, in the National
Museum in Iceland, I was able to stand in front of a case containing
an original copy of the Greenland Saga, open to the story of the discovery
of North America, the voyage and settlement at Vinland. Had I been able
to read Icelandic, which I can’t, I would have been able to read
the story from this ancient, beautifully handwritten and lavishly decorated
manuscript. However, just being there was enough. I don’t think
Kindle will ever offer anything to match that experience.
Eyolfson Cadham is an award-winning columnist and freelance journalist who moved from Montreal to Foam Lake in 1992. She is a member of Sask Writers Guild and is an oral storyteller with professional status with Storytellers of Canada.
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