Kindled

The experience of being, for once, an early adopter of new technology is proving to be more complex than I might have expected if I'd given it much thought. When the Kindle, Amazon's digital reading device - think iPod for reading material - was introduced nearly a year and a half ago, I was very intrigued, but resisted the temptation until a month ago when the second generation became available. The delay was the result of caution: I didn't want to drop several hundred dollars on something I hadn't actually held in my hands, and I didn't know anyone who had been more daring. Finally, one day in February I was on the Metro-North train to the city and saw a woman using the Kindle. When I caught her eye she knew instantly what I was interested in; it was like she recognized a kindred spirit. With great enthusiasm she came down the aisle and started showing me all the great features of the little electronic book, even encouraging me to hold it and flip through the pages. It was indeed impressive and I resolved to buy one. This decision was assisted by the fact that I had just given up driving to work and was now spending an hour every day on the train; a portable, cost and space efficient way to haul my reading material along was very appealing.
The day after my Kindle arrived in the mail I brought it to work and showed it to my colleagues and students. Some people were eager to see it; several concluded it might be a good gift for their aging parents because the font size is adjustable (this made me feel old). Others sort of kept their distance, sensing the sleek object to be a threat to their bond with the beloved book. The students, who tend to be less circumspect in expressing their enthusiasm and consternation than adults, reacted to it passionately. Some were fascinated, some - the ones in the know - made sure to share their relative expertise in what the Kindle can do (later that day one student helpfully sent me a link to a video about its many uses); but some became wistful or worried ("But I love books!"). One student started protesting, "No! No! No!" His mother works for Scholastic putting together book fairs at schools. So that was awkward. I did my best to reassure him that the Kindle is not going to kill the printed book, especially for the children's market.
In the past month, many strangers have asked me about the Kindle, mainly on the commuter line. I am so happy with it that I feel a little bit like an evangelist when I start to talk about it and demonstrate it. It is incredibly easy to use. The newspaper and magazines are downloaded the minute they are published; I can buy and start reading a book while sitting on the train. And it carries my entire library (that is, whatever I have in digital form).The only complaint I have about it is a function of one of its strengths: because the screen is not backlit like a computer monitor, it looks to the eye very much like paper; the grayscale of the display, however, loses much of its contrast in low light conditions, making it harder to read than a real book or newspaper.
There is a part of me, too, that is wistful; I used to design book covers and my family has a rich, illustrious history in book design. I like owning a bookcase, or several, filled with good books. But the Kindle isn't the end of the printed book, I believe, but just a smart, practical alternative to it, like so many other media options that have developed in recent years. And it makes so much sense that, in reality, there's no stopping it.