Will the Kindle further isolate readers?

I do not have the disposable income to purchase an Amazon Kindle. Some of my more technically-minded friends love it. Brian says it helps him read more. Justin and Wes enjoy theirs too. I am a book lover, so at some point, I see myself with a later generation of it. My back would not hurt from dragging around a 1400 page Tolstoy or a Bible with commentary. When I am older and losing eyesight, I can adjust the font on my Kindle without having to by those atlas-sized large print books. Plenty of trees could be saved as newspapers and college text books are converted to electrons. The Kindle and the other reader products it has and will inspire are the future of reading.

There is a traditionalist in me, however. The traditionalist loves me smell of a library, the touch of paper, covers and cover art. My joke about the the Kindle has been, "but what about my pretentious bookshelf?" I do have a pretentious bookshelf. I used to be able to brag that I had read everything on it, until one of my pastors gave away a whole bunch of seminary books. Now I have a bunch of seminary-ready books and commentaries that I will never get to short of a masters degree (if I had the disposable income for one of those...).

Yes, there is an element of pride in my bookshelf, though plenty of other Washingtonians would find it quaint. I have, however, a nobler reason for my bookshelf. I like books as conversation starters. I want someone to come over to my house and learn more about me through my literature. I want people to say, "oh, you read Chesterton? I do to. What did you think of The Everlasting Man?" or something to the sort. Chances are, if I have been to your house, I have done the same thing. To know me is to know the stories and thoughts I like to explore. A good place to start would be my bookshelf. Would a Kindle further isolate you from me? Sure, we could ask each other about what we read, what we have read. Regardless, on my bookshelf, there is further information that I would forget or refuse to tell you, worth one thousand of my words.

With the Kindle, reading becomes more private, especially for those of us introverts who prefer not to volunteer our information, but secretly want you to know us. Do you every look at what people are reading on the DC Metro? I do, and I am sure people notice me. The older black ladies and I read Bibles. The hurried young professionals, including me, read The Economist. I share a small connection, usually silent and unacknowledged, with anyone reading the same book as me. There is another connection to people who read different things than I. Can you judge a person by the cover of the book they read? I know I do. This is not the sort of condemnation the Bible warns us about, but it makes me more curious about the person. It says something about their interests, their feelings, what they want to know and what kind of story they like. A practical economist might ask if any of these connections have turned into a real friendship. Of course not. But these connections, however fleeting, are significant. They make us human. Actual books humanize my follow Metro-travelers (and Barnes & Noble browsers, and Peregrine loiterers) in a way a bunch of drab, electronic folders cannot. This is a daily source of comfort to me, as a train hurries me to work.

Justin also points out that it is difficult to share books with the Kindle. I am sure there are good reasons for this. I could imagine a publisher's or author's reluctance for their books to go the way of the album. They should remember, however, that book sharing is good marketing. It is also another good way to connect with people. It requires a certain openness. "I loved this book, and I imagine you would too, " or "I've wanted to try out that author, may I borrow your book?" Bonds form through sharing things, and there is nothing better than sharing a book.

I talked about judging people by the cover of the book they are reading. Keep in mind, we do judge books by their covers, and the Kindle takes away the cover. My Metro-browsing is also good marketing for publishers and authors. I might see a book on a subject that interests me, or I could be reminded of an author I have been meaning to try, or an issue magazine I want to read. Likewise, I happen to like commercial art. Design, of course, is "in," and book design is very appealing to me. There are some very creative book covers out there, and, yes it is shameless marketing, but looking at covers in and of themselves is no small pleasure.

Since we can assume the Kindle is the future, I hope its producers and readers consider its potentially isolating effects. One suggestion I thought of is putting a screen on the front that displays the title of the book or paper you are reading. If old-fashioned books invite connecting-curiosity, why not design the Kindles to do the same? Second, we readers need to actively share what we read. Book clubs will continue. What if we read aloud to one another? This was what many did instead of television in the 1800s, and what better way to bond family and friends? I got the idea from this morning's New York Times, which I read on my Kindle-sized laptop. Verlyn Klinkenborg comments on the "lost art of reading aloud." Yes, I know, who has that kind of time? But in a room with people you love and a mutually loved book, if everyone actually took it seriously, imagine the learning, the bonding, the discussion afterwards?

The image of the bookworm is the bespecticaled loner crouched in a corner with a book that will soon be with a small machine. This image is not without truth. But books are full of too many ideas, jokes, thoughts and stories not to share. Let's bond with one another in our reading.