Why Books Matter

On Mother's Day several years ago, Rick gave me a Nook e-reader. Before that, I was a “real book” snob. “ But the feel of turning the pages !” I said. “ The smell of the paper and the binding !” I said. I eschewed e-readers like any self-respecting purist should. But that summer, my new Nook in its lovely green case delivered voracious reading to me at a furious and satisfying pace. From its glowing screen, I read All the Light We Cannot See, the House on Mango Street, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, Where’d You Go, Bernadette, Just Mercy , several New Yorker articles, and other things I can’t remember. As long as I charged that magic device every night, I had the world at my fingertips. I discovered the joy of carrying an entire library around in one slim volume. When my kids were small, one of our favorite bedtime stories was a book called (aptly) “Always Room for One More.” The title echoed in my brain: there is always room for one more way to read! Years have gone by since that