Most of my day is spent in front of a computer screen. I read thousands of words between dawn and dusk. But when I say to my husband, “I’m going to read now,” he knows what I mean. I’m leaving him for a book.
Writing used to mean penmanship. Then it became a profession, a conveyor of stories and facts. It has always been a radical act.
2017 is the 40th anniversary of the personal computer and the 25th anniversary of the first ereader. A quarter century and millions of ebooks later, writers and readers, friends and pundits are still arguing over whether this is a good way to read books.
Every few months or so, I’ll be sending a News!Letter of bookish bits and pieces that inform, intrigue, provoke, and, I hope, delight. Here is a wrap-up of 2016 LitBits, sent with best wishes on the last day of the year.
People often say that writing a book must be like having a baby, to which I respond, “I wish it only took nine months!” Writing
may not be like childbirth, but producing
a book is. The minute the physical object is in your hands, the hard parts are forgotten.
Dear Books Unpacked Readers,
Gutenberg’s Fingerprint: A Book Lover Bridges the Digital Divide will be released in April 2017. In anticipation, ECW Press is giving away 5 Advance reading Copies (ARCs) through a Goodreads Draw. If you’d like to enter the draw, click here:
And please—let me know your thoughts on some future BUB (oh dear, the unfortunate acronym for Books Unpacked Blog!)
When Maya Angelou was eight, a lady took her to the local black school library. The shelves held some 300 books, ragged copies donated from the white school and rebound with shingles covered in pretty cloth. “I want you to read every book,” the lady said.
“I don’t say I understood those books, but I read every book, and each time I would go to the library, I felt safe.”
Madeleine Thien’s Giller- and GG-winning novel, Do Not Say We Have Nothing
, is set partly in China in the culturally turbulent years after the Second World War. Two sisters, Swirl and Big Mother Knife, are story-tellers who travel the country performing story cycles. “Stories, even in times like these, were a refuge, a passport, everywhere.”
Paper is not forever: it can be burned, cut, torn, crumpled, lost; it can rot, discolour, disintegrate; be eaten away by mice and mould. Even so, it is more enduring than what we think or what we say. It has the strength to carry words across vast landscapes and through millennia, from one person to hundreds, thousands, even millions. Read more
I’ve always suspected that books are good for me, but not only do they expand the mind and imagination, recent stats show that reading reduces stress levels