It was my birthday on Monday and, aside from the delicious ninja omelettes my wonderful fiancée made me for breakfast (did I mention I’m THIRTY-FOUR YEARS OF AGE?), she also bought me a Kindle Paperwight.
That’s right, I have finally joined the ranks of the e-reading cyberpunk revolution, jacking in to my favourite synth-novels with all the other sub-commuting fiction-hackers.
And what a joy it is! A brief gander reveals quirks like the ingeniously simple integrated dictionary, enabling instant vocab expansion as you read; a handy quote-saving mechanic that will prove useful for reviews; and a backlit display that will last for months without recharging.
That’s pretty special – not to mention its lightweight and slender build, particularly in relation to the hulking Medieval tree-mulch we know of as “books”.
However, my relationship with the printed word is far from over. I’ve still a fond attraction to the look, feel and smell of a real, physical book. And I’ve quite the library to get through before I embark upon my lustful Kindle fling.
I’m three-quarters of the way through Wool by Hugh Howey (which I spoke briefly about here), and have a trio of sci-fi books to plough through after that: Ready Player One, Station Eleven and Railsea, since you ask.
But buying my first e-book was all too easy. With just a few clicks, my Kindle was downloading The Stone Man by Luke Smitherd, where it will stay, until called for.
What I’m most excited about, though, is the ability to read the indie works of my peers – those self-published tomes hitherto concealed in the Amazonian ether. There are gems among them, I’ve heard, and if a review of mine might ameliorate sales, I’ll be all the happier for it.
So, although I’m not immediately in need of some Kindling to burn through, feel free to recommend anything in the comments – I’ll get to them as soon as my backlog has diminished.