This discussion comes up more often now that I have books for sale in both formats: do you prefer e-ink or paper? For me, it’s not an either/or situation. I love my paper books, the way they smell, the heft of them, the feel of paper. I love beautiful cover art and the way books look on a bookshelf, enticing and ready to pluck like ripe fruit.
My e-reader has earned my affection as well, but for different reasons. It’s lightweight and easier to travel with. If I wake in the night, I can open my e-reader and neither its light nor the rustling of paper will wake the Cave Master, and if I fall asleep reading, it won’t break my nose. And I love that I can touch a word and instantly get a definition. It’s lazy, I know, but you can’t deny the convenience, and with an e-reader, you never need to worry that someone is peering at your book cover and judging you by your reading choices.
Pros and cons for both formats
You can underline passages in your paper book, but if you’re anything like me, you’d never put a mark in your beloved book, let alone dog-ear a page. E-readers make it easy to bookmark and find passages.
As an author, I can sign a paper copy of my book, and I get a thrill each time someone asks. That’s not something I do with my ebooks, though I know the technology is out there.
The author in me also likes that readers who don’t know my work might take a chance on me and buy the less-expensive ebook format. That’s not a bad thing—I do it myself all the time. And, if you aren’t familiar with the publishing business, you might be surprised to learn that I earn more on a $5.99 ebook sale than I do on a $24.99 trade paperback.
But regardless of its conveniences, E-ink will never replace paper books, at least in my world. In fact, I just purchased a brand new hardcover of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander, a book I’ve already read twice in paperback. I don’t even have the bookshelf space for it, but when I love a book, I want to hold it, smell it, caress its cover and feel the paper beneath my fingers.







We recently took a road trip to Naramata to visit friends and join in a birthday celebration. The trip had been planned for weeks, so the details were well organized: ferry schedules consulted, route mapped out, and hotels booked. So imagine my surprise when an unexpected windfall cropped up.
Take grooming the dog, for example. Molly was due for a clip at Christmas, but with all the company and cooking and such, well, I figured another week or two wouldn’t hurt. She got a brush and a bath and we made it through Christmas.
But eventually, even I couldn’t ignore the whispers of, “You can’t see a thing, can you girl,” and the oft-repeated, “aren’t you a shaggy dog.”
But the moment I walk through the doors, the fever sets in. I inhale the heady scent of forced blooms and my pupils dilate. A garden centre in February is like a crack house to the bloom-starved, flower-addicted gardener.
