Training Myself Off of Ebooks

And rediscovering my love of a good hardcover

Photo by Dmitry Ratushny on Unsplash

There is a special little section of my phone dedicated only to reading apps. I’ve got the Kindle app, iBooks, Scribd, Overdrive, Wattpad…

I’m the sort of person who likes to have options, you see.

And as someone who loves to fill even the smallest moments of idle time with a bit of reading, these apps are often used and much appreciated. How convenient, wouldn’t you say, to simply reach into your pocket and just a few taps later, find yourself traversing a new story? Awfully handy, I’ve found.

But several months ago, I was scrolling through an iBook freebie when I realized something sinister.

I could not remember the last paper book I’d read.

GASP.

This was, to me, a Very Big Deal. My apartment is positively bursting at the seams with paper books. Old textbooks from coursework past. Trashy paperbacks collected from many a drugstore perusal. Treasured hand-me-downs and used bookstore finds. A few tomes that I (ahem) “borrowed” from my Dad and have yet to return. Beloved classics bound in gorgeous, limited edition hardcovers. And yes, a selection of young adult certainly has pride of place amidst my shelves as well.