I’m usually a long-winded meme writer, but this week’s is going to be short and sweet.

The question of the week is: Where do you stop reading? When you’re tired, or at chapter endings?

My answer: I stop reading when the Kindle hits me in the forehead, after I’ve fallen asleep.  True story.

I read mostly at night, once I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t work anymore. So I’m usually pretty tired, and I read until my eyes close.

Which is going to be any minute n. . .

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

<Shhhh. .. go see what everyone else thinks here.

Since the advent of ebooks and ereaders, this has been the controversy: ebooks vs. print. It has, in some ways, both echoed and precipitated the debate between indie publishing and traditional.

My first ereader was a Nook that my sister gave me for my birthday, some years ago. Honestly, just like with my first iPod, I had no idea what to do with it initially.  My books were, and always have been, precious to me. I love the smell, the touch and beauty of the printed word, and I didn’t think that would ever change. But because I am somewhat forward thinking, I decided to give the Nook a go.

The first positive I realized was that my ereader was imminently portable. I could tuck it into my purse for doctors’ appointments, bring it on airplanes and car trips, and my books were all at my fingertips.

And then there’s the storage issue. A lifetime of book purchases meant that when we moved, we had more boxes of books than anything else, and some people (ahem!) found that problematic. The reality was that I had many, many books that I was not going to read again. They were fine, but they were definitely one-read books. Having them in ebook form made more sense.

So am I an ebook only reader? Not quite.

Because there is something else I love about print books, and it’s their history. I’m looking at my bedroom bookshelves as I write this. There is a first-edition copy of GONE WITH THE WIND that my grandmother gave me. It’s the first copy of the book I read, and when I see it, I’m upstairs at her house, which was my childhood home base, cuddled on the bed, lost in antebellum South. And I also see Nana’s copy of CHRISTY by Catherine Marshall, a book that my dad read to me first, and then I re-read myself later. . .an amazing story, with my grandmother’s name signed in the front along with the date. My Anne Rice originals are on the shelf next to my LaVyrle Spencer romances.

There are some books that I will read over and over again, and they have place of pride on my shelves. Seeing them in ebook form just wouldn’t cut it.

So I’m a hybrid: I love the immediacy and portability of my ebooks, and I love the sensory aspects and history of print.

I’ll admit that my family tends toward print. My husband will do ebooks, but as a theologist, most of his books are print. He likes to flip through them, highlight. . .my two middle daughters are adamantly print-only. Only my oldest daughter is more like her mom. And my son seems to prefer print as well.

I think there’s room for all books. I believe ebooks will continue to thrive and improve, and I also think there will always be solid printed books in the world.

We’re not either/or; we’re both/and.

This was an excellent topic; go hop around and see what everyone else thinks by visiting Literary Addicts.

Have you always loved to read? If not, how did you get into reading? 

This was the question this week. The answer is. . .

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love to read. I don’t remember a time when I could NOT read. My earliest memories are of books: reading, discussing, breathing them in.

I was blessed to be raised by two passionate readers. We talked books around the dinner table from the time I was a toddler until the day I got married and left home. My dad read to me every night before bed until the night I left for college. Books were essential to our life.

The first books I remember would probably be the Little House books, Katie John, All of a Kind Family. . .some really fabulous reading.

All of my children loved to read except my second daughter. It took her until she was about nine years old, when she became interested in Egypt and mummies. Suddenly, she couldn’t read fast enough. Now, at 22, she has books all over her room and reads constantly.

I can’t imagine a life without books.

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