But much as I loved books, I always bought my books at HigginBotham’s because I thought it had something to do with Ian Botham. People were still telling young impressionable children like me about the Ashes in 1981. In my head, any book bought at HigginBotham’s got me closer to Ian Botham.

(Actually, I love you HigginBotham’s. You saved me from a life of literary privation. And you made a small eight year old girl feel like she was shaking hands with Ian Botham.)

Looking back, all that drama was so pointless. Once I got the Kindle, I couldn’t put it down. It’s beautiful, handles really well, is very light and is a pleasure to read. I did have quite a few issues with it for the first few weeks, and to my surprise, when I called up Amazon support, they replaced it.

I’ve been trying to understand what caused me to resist it so much in the first place. Is it that while music and film have changed formats, books have essentially remained the same through history. Sheets bound together, to be turned by hand. Is it that my memories of childhood, libraries, friendship (oh, the stories of ‘borrowed’ books), summer holidays overpowered the usual rational self.

But books are emotional objects for me. A lot of books have moments appended to them. Markers of foolishness or adolescence. Some that I cringe at, when I recall announcing loudly to peers that I’d read something that they wouldn’t understand. And the scores of books that fall broadly under chick-lit or some other such tag. Books that have filled hours and shelves.

What is a book then? That specific sequence of words? Or the physical printout?

Over the year-end break, as I lay in bed, unable to move for a few days thanks to a strong bout of flu, I bought one book after another. Some through serendipity and others through recommendations. I read more now. Not afraid to exhaust my reading options whilst sitting on a train. I still buy physical books, but 70% of new books are in digital format.

All I want are books, and to be able to fit in small alternate worlds in my bag when I leave in the mornings. I used to do that earlier too, I just do it a lot easier now. One of the reasons I don’t blog that much anymore is the Kindle. I’ve never read this much in my life.

I no longer see the point in writing.
(In a few months, I’ll come back to my senses.)

PS – Happy New Year and all that. It’s been a slightly manic year – and I hope your year is that curious mix of contentment and excitement. Some stillness to go with that jumpy ride, yes?

But what about new ones? How much shelf space should I actually set aside for them?

Is it time for an ebook reader then? I never resisted digital music players, digital cameras and the like. And yet with ebook readers, I feel this incredible resistance. Which seems utterly pointless. I’ve dragged many books across the seas, and I am a bit tired of their weight and space consuming nature. And while Libraries are an option, I want to be able to go back to these books if need be, and I find it easier to have instant access to reading material.

Opting for an ebook reader feels like a life-changing choice. I am aware that I will still have to buy some books – the lovely ones with pictures, books that are hard to find and the like. But given the constant travel (where sometimes it feels like I spend half my working week on a train) – the idea of not carrying a couple of heavy books feels like certain relief.

I like to think of myself as a reader rather than a book collector. I like the warm glow of paper books – but I am tired of carrying an entire library around. And yet, the stupid, silly, childish resistance.

It’s time to take the plunge. I just don’t know how cold the water is.

PS: Ever noticed how for some people their book collections are like their receptionists. They are communicating aspects of themselves. I like looking at a person’s bookshelf. But perhaps I have enough books to make that gentle introduction to the wayward house guest.

Or I’ll save on moving costs and just buy the bloody books myself. Somebody please work out the costs and compare.

For those of you who never had the wonderful opportunity to read Sweet Valley High (SVH) – the fundamentals are thus. Two identical twins. One smart, the other bitchy. Both actually golden-hearted, super-sexy and all that. They have friends of course. Smart twin has smart friends. Bitchy twin has bitch (and super-rich) friends. The plots usually range from deep depression caused by not finding a purple skirt or falling for boys who seem terrifyingly idiotic. Plus, some pontificating adults. Not to mention constant parties and horrendously simple homework. Plus something called the “Mall” where all American kids waste time.

Imagine my joy when I find this wonderful blog that is devoted to re-reading this marvelous stuff. And ridiculing it to bits and back. Sample this.

Another book where Jessica is validated simply for being a skinny blonde. So the twins are home from a stint in London and are at the beach, and some guy hits Jessica on the head with a frisbee! He come over to apologize and BAM! within three seconds they decide they are soul mates. Maybe I am just too old and cynical to buy this. So they make out after saying 2 words to each other. Then the guy runs off and says he can’t be with Jessica. After this encounter Jessica decides that Mystery Beach Man is the most. important. man. she’s ever. met. She claims to care for him more than she did for Sam, the alleged love of her life that Elizabeth killed when she was driving drunk. Who boy. So Jessica mopes around and Liz totally enables her.

Am thrilled!

Lessing later said she thought the cameras were there to film a television program. Vegetables peeked out from blue plastic bags she carried out of the cab.
“This has been going on for 30 years,” she said, as reporters helped her with the bags.
“I’ve won all the prizes in Europe, every bloody one, so I’m delighted to win them all, the whole lot, OK?” Lessing said, making her way through the crowd. “It’s a royal flush.”
“I’m sure you’d like some uplifting remarks,” she added with a smile.

…

She acknowledged the $1.5 million cash award was a lot of money, but still seemed less than thrilled.
“I’m already thinking about all the people who are going to send me begging letters — I can see them lining up now,” she said. The phone in her house, audible from the street, rang continuously.

And yes, she did say “Oh Christ!”, not in the I-won-Miss-America way, but in an exasperated way that is almost endearing.

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A group of 20 All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (MIM) workers, led by MLAs Afsar Khan, Ahmed Pasha and Mozum Khan, stormed the Press Club premises and raised slogans against the author.

They attacked her with bouquets, flower pots and virtually anything they could lay their hands on at the concluding session of the book release. The police later took the legislators and their supporters into custody.

you don’t really think “violence”. You think maybe they threw these objects in the general direction of the author, Taslima Nasrin. But watching the video footage makes me livid with rage. Three MLAs? Even as there was someone capturing all of this on camera !?!

People have the right to protest. You don’t like the book, don’t buy it. Encourage others not to buy it. But interfering in someone else’s right to read, write or speak just doesn’t cut it for me. That’s not protest. That’s plain old intimidation.

What’s also scary is that this is in a city that I don’t associate with hardliners of any kind. I’ve lived there for a brief while, and loved the city for its liberal values. It’s not a city that cries itself hoarse saying it has liberal values like Bombay, but has them nevertheless. Well, at least the Police took the three morons (MLAs) into custody I guess. Though they’ve been granted bail.

On a related note, for a change, Times Of India has an interesting article on how the Media runs to the “extreme” camps for soundbytes.

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