Life without books.

I am totally panic-stricken at the thought of a life without books. I mean what will I give as presents for Birthdays/Christmas/Holidays/Weddings? I mean books are my fail safe. They're my favourite gift to give. You scrawl a meaningful message on the inside of the cover, you hang onto every nuance and hidden message in the prose and hope that the recipient finds them as enticing and delectable as you do, and your kids lay sprawled on the floor, touching the pages, totally immersed into the fantasy. 

How do you remove that and give them a little glowing pod/pad/nano/tablet that connects to the internet. How do you replicate the feeling of the pages underneath the fingers. How do you recharge your glowing reading instrument when there is a power failure. How do you give your dog eared copy of a favourite story from 1986 to your friend to read when its all stored on a little inanimate cold hard piece of plastic and perhaps chrome? 

Frightfully more is the thought of why I am so against change. I understand less trees used etc (in theory) less damage to the earth. But surely all the little glowing LED's or circuits, etc contain lead or mercury or some poison that will fill up the landfills just as quick as paper books would? Maybe newer textbooks will be available faster to the schools etc.

But honestly, coming from South Africa, where internet connectivity and electricity are fantastical ideas from the future, a dream for most, only a given for the elite in cities earning lots of money, paper books can not be made redundant just yet? Surely they are still treasures, not has beens? 


Im so confused and I am so bereft. I remember pouring over silly novels with friends. I think of the dictionary I used in school, given to my dad by my mom when he went to college in 1977. I see her neat perfect block shaped letters, and the xxx's she put at the bottom, kisses that remained stored in the little time capsule between the covers. 


I remember intimate moments, spent between the sheets, my favourite book and I, hours on end, reading, pouring over the characters and the plot, and immersing myself in a forever fantasy type state. I dont see myself being as open or relaxed with a cold hard piece of plastic. 


Maybe we dont read anymore. Maybe our stories are made from one liners, captured from twitter, facebook, some random status update, a chapter given in byte-sized installments... 


One of the first basics of parenting that I attach myself to is to provide books for your children to read, so they can delve into the crevices in their minds, escape here, form alternate realities, the proverbial vicarious experience, but no where do parenting books say thou shalt provide internet connectivity so thy child can download a book to read on a plastic tablet. 


It just confuses me. I know its irrational. I hear echoes from movies, "You cant stop progress"... but is this progress really? Or is this an emerging market that I have the right to refuse?