It’s been about six months since my Kindle first arrived.
I should say at the off I’ve only finished reading three novels on it so far – Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, Emma Donoghue’s Room, and Justin Cronin’s The Passage – though I hasten to add that I have over twenty other sample chapters in my library. This number doesn’t even count the ‘Classics’ freebies I’ve got archived (and some are pretty crudely formatted).
If anything the Kindle has highlighted the kind of reader it appears I am: a sampler. These days, if I hear about a new book I immediately run to the Kindle store to see if there is a sample chapter available to download and I admit first impressions have often led me decide on whether to follow through with a purchase or not. For example, I’ve not yet bought Jasper Jones, but I think I will; I’ve not yet bought The Finkler Question, and I’m not sure I want to.
Naturally, this can backfire. Not all books (or any, if you’re generous) ought to be judged on their first 5-10% (or so) of text. We’ve all read books which come into their own after the first half, or even later. Then there are others we just plain pat ourselves on the back for getting through (Bleak House). I guess what the Kindle does is expedite that decision-making process – whether that’s a good or bad thing is up for you to judge, but then again I’ve also been the person who picks up many a book in the bookstore before finally making a choice.
I think what excites me most of all, from a publishing perspective, are the opportunities made available by it. For example I’m me, being the consumer, buying Andrea K Höst’s self-published novel The Silence of Medair because it was nominated for an Aurealis Award (congratulations!) and I wanted to read it, yes, but also support her venture. From the author’s perspective, me, when people have done the same (though in my case buying via the website or bookshops) it’s affirming and gratifying. What the Kindle has in its favour is speed. And these days, that’s important.
Speaking of speed, I admit I read quicker on the Kindle, and Adam swears the same. He likes it because of his bad back – he can lie in bed in the same, comfortable position and just press his thumb when he needs to turn the page rather than lift his elbow to do so. But for me, I’m not sure if speed translates into ‘better’ reading.
And for me, I don’t think nights will be the same any more: instead of hearing the crackle of paper as my husband reads late into the night I hear the plastic click on arrow button on the Kindle. It’s not better or worse, just different.
