The Preciousness of Books

I have so many favourite books my top 10 is often changing but will probably always include T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland which I can read over and over and over... Peter Ackroyd's Hawksmoor and J.D Salinger's Franny & Zooey all of which had a profound effect on me when first reading, plus I studied the former two in school at a particularly tempestuous time in my life! I lost myself totally in the magic of the stories and words and was quite swept up in the drama of other worlds and lives.

Whilst movies can, and indeed have, had a similar effect on me, I find that the effects don't last as long or go as deep. There is something about reading from a real book, held in our hands, carried around with us for days/weeks/months even years, the fold of the corners when a book mark has been misplaced, the smell of new paper or even better, the smell of musty bookshelves acquired from a second-hand book store, the scribbles made by previous readers, their name printed neatly or scrawled carelessly on the inside cover, a certain timeless quality, all these things, along with engaging contents of course, make a book far more potent than even the best film ever could be (and I do love a good movie). Perhaps it's the ability to touch and hold and thus feel more engaged with a book than one can with a dvd which relies on a machine to be played or a film viewed at the cinema with many other people.

This is an excerpt from a discussion started by Maddy called Has Reading Become A Lost Art on Ooffoo.com. Read the full article here.