Why I love paper

Imust make a confession: I love paper. I love to hold a book in my hands as I read it and maybe read the margin notes that I made years ago. I love to pick up a book of music and read the comments my piano teacher made 50 years ago (correct the fingering on this phrase!). I love to read a recipe written in my mother’s hand which causes me to remember standing on a stool by her side as she tried (unsuccessfully) to teach me how to make dumplings from scratch.

All this being said, however, I will add that I am somewhat competent in this digital age. I communicate by e-mail, own three digital keyboards, and I even send a text message once in a while.

My “techie”

David, always trying to bring me up to speed, has given me two Kindle e-readers and keeps me supplied with e-books which seem to show up on a daily basis. (I think he is sometimes bored on his 13-hour night shifts at Intel). A typical weekend evening for us includes many hours by the backyard firepit and a glass of wine, with David tending the fire and me reading... which brings me to the point of this article.

When I open my Kindle, I often cannot remember the story I was reading and need to scroll back to catch up. And when I choose a new book, I often can’t remember if I’ve read that book already. That is not like me. I know I’m getting

By Karla C. Dudley

older, but I can usually remember the contents of a story and, when visiting the bookstore, I always know if I’ve read a book that’s on the shelf.

My “fireside reading” books are for the most part engaging, easy-to-read stories. They are not necessarily great works of literature, but I have found it interesting that I can usually only identify a book that I’ve read or not read by the picture of the cover on the screen.

An article in a recent edition of Scientific American* caught my attention. It was titled “Why the Brain Prefers Paper,” by Ferris Jabr. The opening paragraph cites a YouTube video in which a one-year-old girl plays with an iPad, sweeping her fingers across the touch screen and shuffling icons. In the next scene she appears to pinch and swipe the pages of a regular magazine, with no success. The video was called “A magazine is an iPad that doesn’t work.”

This piece discusses research on the physicality of reading. The human brain often perceives text as a kind of physical topography. When I open a paper book, for example, I am presented with a landscape — left and right-hand pages, eight corners, and a constant awareness of the progress in the book as I turn pages. I know if I’m at the beginning, the middle, or the end of the book. If I need to remind myself of something in the book, it’s easy for me to just flip back a few pages. Not so with an e-reader.

I liked the writer’s comparison of reading to hiking: “Turning the pages of a paper book is like leaving one foot print after another on a trail.. .there is a rhythm to it and a visible record of how far one has traveled.” Could this explain my attachment to certain books that I can’t seem to remove from my book shelf?

The biographies of John Muir, Jane Goodall, and Beethoven are large volumes and take much space on my shelf. But it somehow soothes me to see them there with other beloved volumes arranged from tallest to shortest, and reminds me of where I have come on my own “life trail.” I wouldn’t have the same feeling seeing my Kindle sitting on the shelf. The Kindle is, for me, a tool to use for a specific purpose, but certainly not something to cherish like a paper book.

I can just hear my children and other “digital natives” snickering and citing the many advantages of digital reading — saving trees, the availability to read all the great classics without leaving home, the elimination of clutter.

Perhaps the brain of the toddler in the video is making new pathways to adapt to the changes needed in this digital age. But what about the sensory, tactile feeling of turning a page, the smell of ink on the paper, and the excitement walking into a library full of great stories?

Perhaps I am overly sentimental. I agree that there is certainly a place for technology and I intend to take advantage of everything available, but for me, nothing will take the place of holding a book in my hands and, of course, the newest edition of the Columbia River Reader!

* Referenced article:

“Why the Brain Prefers Paper” by Ferris Jabr. Scientific American, Volume 308, No. 5, November 2013.

•••

Karla Dudley is a piano teacher in Longview. Shortly after writing this article, she and David Bell married and enjoyed several more years of the good life together, prior to his death in July 2022.