John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars (affiliate link) sits on a pile of books on the hutch over my desk.

I try to read one or two YA books a year, and this will be one of them.

The video below is something John made earlier this week. He’s on a book signing tour with his brother, Hank, and his sister-in-law.

E-Books on the Road

I chat about e-books, here, quite a bit. I like e-books a lot. I’ll review a wonderful e-book on Monday: Ann Pratchett’s The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life (Kindle Single) (affiliate link). But there’s one drawback to the e-book: signing tours!

When I received a photo from the mighty Tom Wideman from the back woods of Alaska, showing me that he picked up a copy of Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors (HCWWPD) on the day it was released, I thought it was one of the more wonderful uses for technology. A guy in the middle-o’-nowhere Alaska got a copy of an e-book I released, on the day it was available.

Recently, CM Stewart sent a photo of her on the road with HCWWPD. Since HCWWPD is a road trip story, it’s an ideal book — to me — to have been published as a physical version with me on a signing tour.

When I submitted it years ago — to agents who loved it, but thought it was too quirky for them to know what to do with — I dreamed of getting an agent and making a sale. Not because it would have meant I somehow “made it,” but because I would have had a physical book with which to tour. I dreamed of restoring an old station wagon for a cross country trip, signing books.

Obviously, that never happened.

A Problem with E-Books

I love e-books. I know there are blog tours and other ways to promote e-books, but…it’s not like you can pile into a car with loved ones or good friends and go on tour like you can with a physical book.

Or maybe you can.

Some of the neatest jumps in the way we think about things come along from changes in technology. So while I haven’t figured out a way to do an e-book signing tour, I’m not saying it can’t be done.

Any thoughts on ways of making one work?

No real update today, but I want to share something worth checking out.

Author, Alex George, has a wonderful “story in five photos” entry on his blog, chronicling the evolution of his latest novel, A Good American (affiliate link), from a blank page, through several drafts, galleys, and the actual novel.

More than that, though, it shows what goes into writing a novel — all the ups and downs. The close calls and total rewrites after thinking, “This is done and ready to go.”

The entry serves as inspiration to us all, whether the goal is to release your own e-book, or take the traditional route. It’s why I was up early before the day job, today, working on my latest book.

It takes time to do something well, and Alex’s post is a great reminder of the payoff.

* * *

Oh! Alex’s A Good American, was recently picked as the Indie Next List’s #1 Pick for February of 2012! So check that out, too.

Yesterday on my personal Facebook page, I posted the video above. A very good friend replied, saying that he’s all about e-books and audio books these days, because it allows him to not be weighed down by books and lets him read/listen on the go.

The Power of E-Books

I love physical books, but I’m not against e-books and audio books; in fact, in the past two years, I’ve read more digital books than physical books.

I find myself taking in non-fiction as audio books more and more, because it’s easy to listen to while at the gym or formatting things at work. (As a technical writer, music with lyrics and podcasts can be distracting, but sometimes — if I’m formatting a lot of procedures and not writing — I can listen to something with words.)

This is the point my friend made: reading is no longer this thing we do before bed, or on lunch breaks.

• Long line at the DMV? Pull out your phone and read.
• Ride a train to work? You’ve probably seen more e-readers in the last couple years.
• That kid you think is checking Facebook on her phone? She’s actually reading. (Okay, reading and checking Facebook.)
• Long commute or road trip? Listen to a book.

E-readers were big sellers this past holiday season, and I have to think that most of the people buying and receiving an e-reader don’t leave it on the nightstand. I see them at work, at cafes, and even in restaurants.

All over the place.

So What About Physical Books?

Just because I love e-books and audiobooks (although I’m still not a big fan of fiction as audiobook — I like the way it all comes in when reading silently), it doesn’t mean there’s not room for physical books in my life.

I didn’t get an e-reader for Christmas, but I got a small pile of books I’ve been enjoying.

The Start of 2012's Reading List

For some reason, before bed at night or on a lazy afternoon on the couch, I like physical books best. With an exception: BIG books.

I recently reviewed Craig Thompson’s Habibi, which is a stunning physical book in its design — but at over 660 pages, it’s heavy and not as easy to get comfortable with as my phone or an e-reader.

Still, for certain authors, there’s just something about cracking open a book that I will always love.

What About You?

How have your reading habits changed in recent years? Do you find yourself reading more e-books on the go, like my friend, or do you still prefer to curl up in bed with a good [physical] book?

One thing’s for certain, whether you prefer digital books to physical books (or the other way around) — taking time out to read, and the habits that come with doing so, will hopefully never die.

I’ll just go ahead and say it: I think Craig Thompson’s Habibi is one of the best — if not the best — examples of graphic novels as a medium.

It blurs the lines of time and place, it uses traditional comic book panels and many design elements to carry the story, and it ends in a way that is everything the book is about.

Graphic Novels vs. Collections

When I say graphic novel, I mean graphic novel. The only comic books I have as bulky as Thompson’s 665-page Habibi are the Daredevil Omnibuses, published by Marvel. Some people call those graphic novels, but they aren’t — they are collections.

The comic book geek in me just has to clarify that.

Habibi was created to be read as one large work — not a collection of shorter releases.

So What’s the Deal?

Habibi is the story of two slaves in the Middle East: Dodola and Zam. Despite some harsh violence and tough times for the two that some people have found unsettling, there’s still a lot of magic in the book: the ways the two characters move through time — in and out of each others lives; the locations in the book, sometimes seeming like a fantasy world based on Middle Eastern design and lore — other times harkening to the construction of modern cities like Dubai and Abu Dhabi; the way Thompson slings ink and designs panels and pages.

It’s an awe-inspiring book to hold in one’s hands, and while there are times the scenes and story seem like a bit more of the same violence and trials, good writers often put their characters through hell. I won’t spoil the ending, but I was happy for the characters, and loved the last two-page spread ending the story.

Brought a tear to me eye and a smile to my face.

Is It Really the Best Example of the Medium?

I said Habibi is one of the best — if not the best — examples of a graphic novel. I say this for a variety of reasons.

While there were some sections of dialogue that seemed forced, and even some scenes that seemed just a bit much, that happens (even in some of my favorite novels). As a whole, Habibi combines story, writing, art, and design in ways few graphic novels do.

It’s an ambitious book, and Thompson pulls it off.

There are graphic novels I’ve read that I liked more than Habibi, but none that are the shining example of the medium that Habibi is.

Yesterday, I read The Sense of an Ending (affiliate link), by Julian Barnes.

At 163 pages, it’s short enough that I’m tempted to read it again, to see if my feelings about it change.

The Quick Version

The book is about a group of school mates who go on to college and then onto their lives.

The second part of the book is the narrator looking back after receiving a letter that leads to learning more about things that happened back then.

The Awe of it All

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in awe by how masterfully Barnes handled the pacing in the first part of the book.

In a matter of pages near the end of the first part, he handles a passage of time in ways that left me floored! Just BOOM! “Well, that was about as perfect as it gets without feeling like he just forced the years on readers.”

The book is worth a read just to experience the pacing, language, and that passage of time in the first part.

Part Two

The second part of the book introduces some things that really hooked me. (For the sake of not spoiling it, I won’t go into specifics about those things.) But the past comes back in an interesting way; it made me love the book even more.

Then…there’s a whole lotta thinking!

I don’t mind getting into the narrator’s head. I don’t mind a narrator who thinks and shares their thoughts with readers. But at times, it was a bit, “Okay, we get it — you’re thinking about stuff!”

Not that it’s a book that’s driven by plot, but that first part really moves!

That pacing scatters a bit as we wander the narrator’s thoughts.

The Twist

I don’t know if I’d call what happens at the end of The Sense of an Ending a plot twist, or just a reveal. But since it was all held back like Barnes was holding the winning cards all along, I felt a bit like, “Hey — SURPRISE!!!”

I like surprises. I was okay finding out that Darth Vader was Luke’s father. But had that been the final scene of The Empire Strikes Back or the whole trilogy, I would have felt cheated.

There’s a twist in the final moments of The Sense of an Ending that made me feel a bit cheated. It was still good stuff, and perhaps calling it a twist is unfair because in some ways, it’s a logical reveal. But that it came right at the end — it was like somebody jumping out and shouting “BOO!!! See what I did, there?”

So…Should You Read It?

Despite feeling a bit cheated by the ending, with its length, I’d still recommend The Sense of an Ending to readers. The pacing in the first part of the book and glimpse into the lives of a group of people on the verge of adult responsibilities in England in the 60s flows! Even the second part contains some damn good stuff.

And maybe that twist at the end only seemed like a twist because it was late when I finished the book. And that’s a very telling thing: I couldn’t put the book down.

It’s short enough to read again…

And I might just do that.

I like e-books. I’ve been buying more e-books than physical books, lately. Not that I have anything against physical books — quite the contrary: I love physical books. But in a one-bedroom apartment, there’s not a lot of room for physical books. (Which is why I tend to give books away.)

E-books are a great way to save space if you don’t have it. But they can’t do everything.

The Power of Physical Books

A friend recently loaned me Mark Z. Danielewski’s Only Revolutions. Like Danielewski’s first book, House of Leaves, Only Revolutions relies heavily on the formatting of the book. (We’ll see if I get through Only Revolutions…formatting like this in House of Leaves annoyed me, and I set it aside.)

More than formatting that would be tough to pull off in an e-book right now, one of the best things about physical books is the personal library.

Behold, the Library!

Flavorwire recently had a peek inside the libraries of famous writers. I love how each writer’s personality is reflected in their libraries.

As much as I love e-books, it’s weird to think there may come a day when the famous writers of the future all hold up the same reading device as others when asked to show off their libraries.

(It’s one of the reasons I think the physical books will always be around.)

Eudora Welty's Library.

Yesterday, Chuck Wendig shared the cover of his upcoming novel, Blackbirds, on his blog. (Go here to see the whole thing in all its stunning glory; it’s mighty impressive stuff! And if you’re curious what Wendig’s writing is like, I can think of a pile of worse things you can do today than dropping $2.99 on his short story collection ebook,  Irregular Creatures. Affiliate link.)

A couple days ago, another cool writer people should follow online, John Green, released the cover for his upcoming book, The Fault in Our Stars, in this Vlogbrothers’ YouTube video. (He mentions the cover 30 seconds in. Also, if you preorder The Fault in Our Stars (affiliate link), you’ll get a signed copy…John Green is signing the entire first print run of 150,000 copies.)

Judging a Book By Its Cover

I’ve always heard people say, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” but I’ve always had good luck when I have.

I found my favorite book, A Trail of Heart’s Blood Wherever We Go: A Novel (affiliate link), based on the cover over there on the left. (Sorry it’s such a small image — I no longer have this edition, and all I could find was a thumbnail.)

While browsing the long gone Dallas/Ft. Worth bookseller, Taylor’s Books one night, I stumbled upon it. Something about the color and cover art appealed to me, and I picked up a wonderful book I may not have picked up had it not been for that cover.

The Power of a Good Cover

I met John Picacio at a comic book convention in 1992. He made the move from comic book art to book covers and hasn’t looked back.

Anyone with a sense of design can put together a cover based on stock photography and typography, but it takes something more to create a cover like the World’s End (Age of Misrule, Book 1)(affiliate link), cover to the right, and the covers above.

John doesn’t just read the copy that goes on the back of the book or the copy on the inner jacket and throw together a cover; he reads the book and puts a lot of thought and effort into creating an image he (and the writer) feel sums up the book.

That’s a heavy responsibility and no easy task.

A Reason for Covers

We can all say we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but there’s a reason so much goes into cover design: next to a known name, a strong cover can get a book into a potential reader’s hands, where the copy hopefully does the rest.

John Picacio’s one of those artists who can get a store to stock a book facing out and get readers to pick up books they may have never known existed.

A Sense of What’s Inside

Another favorite book is Jim Lynch’s, The Highest Tide: A Novel (affiliate link).

It’s a case of a good photo and a simple design.

The thing that struck me reading the book was how colorful Lynch paints the night. Some of my favorite writing in the book takes place at night, and Lynch’s prose oozes with a color that’s hard to describe.

It’s easy to see the night as just this dark thing with no depth, but Lynch’s writing is summed up by the cover of the hardback version of The Highest Tide.

Seriously; it’s that soothing and natural.

E-Book Covers

I’ve written about ebooks quite a bit. I’m a fan of ebooks. But if there’s one thing I don’t like about them, it’s that many lack great covers.

Some ebooks come with only text covers. (Call me a traditionalist, but even at $.99, I feel cheated without cover art.)

Other ebooks have covers that look great on an iPad, but they lose something when reduced to a thumbnail on an online bookseller’s site, or on a smaller device. It’s kind of like the jump from album cover art to CD art, and then thumbnails online.

While I like being able to release some of my writing as ebooks, I miss out on the excitement of seeing what an artist comes up with. I don’t see their interpretation of what I wrote.

For many readers, ebook cover art doesn’t matter. And while I like that readers are going for a story, there’s a little bit of me that hates that some great artists are already considering other options for their art after years of designing book covers.

How About You

Do you judge a book by its cover?

What are some of your favorite book covers?

If any of the covers below appeal to you, go here to check them out.

The closest I’ve ever come to getting political on The Juggling Writer was last year, during banned books week.

It’s banned books week, but this time, I’ll be more personal than political.

Why I Am

I grew up with a library of science and geography books at my disposal. Because those books were available in our home, I learned about the world and how it worked before most of my friends.

I looked up to my big sister, a voracious reader. My mom read a lot, too. When the people you look up to read, you not only want to read — you want to read what they’re reading!

What they were reading was well ahead of me at the time, but it didn’t stop me from always trying to get through the things they read. Somewhere in 7th grade, I was ready. I read Stephen King’s Different Seasons and John Irving’s The World According to Garp.

They were the books that made me want to write serious stories.

King’s “The Body” (one of the four stories in Different Seasons) made me realize the kinds of stories forming in my head could find an audience. And The World According to Garp…well, I was blown away.

Challenged Writers

King and Irving have had their books challenged and banned.

When John Irving’s Hotel New Hampshire was taken off the shelves in a high school (and reinstated), Irving wrote to the school librarian, thanking her for being part of the group against the removal of his book. You can read the letter here.

The part that stands out in Irving’s letter is what always stands out when I hear a book, movie, or song is being challenged or banned: those calling for the removal rarely actually read, see, or listen to what they’re fighting to have pulled from the public.

It’s a terrifying thought that somebody without knowledge of why something may be in a story can call for it being banned. (That said, it’s just as terrifying to me if they know the context and still call for something being banned.)

There are a lot of things in the world that offend me, but I would never think that just because I find something repulsive or wrong that my feelings about something should keep others from experiencing it. For some, the language and situations in King’s books and Irving’s books bother them; there are many others, though, who take something away from the stories when they’re done reading.

A Life Without [Certain] Books

I can’t imagine my life without Different Seasons or the World According to Garp.

Later, Kurt Vonnegut came along and made me think in even more ways. Each contemporary writer that followed — even those I wasn’t necessarily fond of, but read and respected (i.e., Updike) — they made me not only want to write, but they made me want to write well!

They presented things that made me think when I was young. Since the books were a little ahead of me, there was an excitement to being exposed to adult situations, but that excitement quickly waned when I realized there was really nothing shocking about those situations. And when I experienced similar situations later in life, I already knew where I stood because it was something I thought about for quite some time. So I didn’t get high like other friends because I’d read about what drugs can do to a body. Sex wasn’t something to fear, but I knew from the stories that I read that it came with certain consequences for many of the characters in books. So I waited until I was ready for what could happen.

Because I wanted to write and quickly learned that writing takes discipline, that discipline carried over to all I do. I took time to listen to people, I worked harder than most (even at jobs I didn’t like), and I did all I could to always push myself to do my best.

I learned a lot from the stories some would have forbidden me to read; in so many ways, books helped me become who I am!

That’s why it’s a terrifying thought to wonder who I’d be without certain books…

It’s been one of those weeks at work, the kind where time moves back and forth in an odd dance in the mind, making it feel like minutes are hours and hours, minutes.

Deadlines, chaos, and nerves–there’s something big to work on, and when the sun meets the horizon (at this time of the year, a reminder that you’ve been at work far too long–especially when you watched the sun rise above the horizon on the way in), you crave company that won’t talk about work and maybe even something to speed along forcing the tension of the day from your shoulders to fall and gather like dust with others’ tensions on the floor of a bar or quiet living room.

Conversation and a cocktail; it doesn’t get much better than that!

The Power of a Drink

“First we must understand what, functionally, a cocktail is. I will inquire into no man’s reasons for taking a drink at any hour except 6:00 p.m. They are his affair and he has a rich variety of liquors  to choose from according to his whim or need: may they reward him according to his deserts and well beyond. But when evening quickens in the street, comes a pause in the day’s occupation that is known as the cocktail hour. It marks the lifeward turn.”
- Bernard DeVoto, from The Hour.

I love a good cocktail. (Personal preference: the martini.)

It is not that I want to lose myself in spirits, but rather–celebrate all that mankind has wrought in a perfect cocktail glass glistening with condensation and filled with gin, vermouth, and lemon oil swimming on the surface. One can argue that a dash of orange bitters belongs in or fouls the drink; I’m fine with either.

I’m also fine with olives.

Bernard DeVoto was not fine with olives in a martini.

“Who?” you probably ask.

DeVoto was a professor turned writer, known for writing about history and literary criticism (he was not afraid to try cutting through the bone with his opinions).

And yes, he even wrote about cocktails…

The Book

Bernard DeVoto’s The Hour: A Cocktail Manifesto (affiliate link)  was the first book I read this year. Of those who prefer olives in their martinis, he said:

“And, I suppose, nothing can be done with people who put olives in martinis, presumably because in some desolate childhood hour someone refused them a dill pickle and so they go through life lusting for the taste of brine.”

Followed by this:

“Something can be done with people who put pickled onions in: strangulation seems best.”

Do not take DeVoto as an authority on the martini; read him and appreciate a time when we put so much effort into everything we wrote. (The book was written in the late 50s.) Whether you agree with him or not, it’s hard not to appreciate the way the curmudgeon put words together. I’m sure the originators of many classic drinks (including the martini) would scoff at DeVoto’s arrogance and call him out on his inaccuracies, but that’s not the point.

He’s really damn funny!

The Evils of Rum…and the Enemy

“We are a pious people but a proud one too, aware of a noble lineage and a great inheritance. Let us candidly admit that there are shameful blemishes on the American past, of which by far the worst is rum.”

DeVoto has a flair for asserting his opinion in ways you can’t help but appreciate, whether you agree with him or not.

I’ll say it right here: I know very little about rum. I can’t recommend an aged rum worthy of pouring into a glass and sipping straight, like scotch or whiskey. In general, the rums I’ve had (even some more expensive rums) have left me flat. They have only been worthy of mixing–not savoring on their own. (If you have a recommendation of a good sipping rum, I’d love to hear it.)

Still, I wouldn’t say rum is the biggest blemish on the American past…and neither is DeVoto. Remember, while he started out an English professor, he moved on to writing about history and knows many of the true blemishes on the country’s past.

Reading The Hour was a reminder that many no longer appreciate–or even recognize–great satire and sarcasm.

Were a writer to say today that rum is the worst thing to happen to the country, instead of readers appreciating the ridiculous humor, many people would be outraged…perhaps even writing to publishers calling for the writer to never be published by them again.

Those people could do well with a fine drink to calm them down.

No drink (save the martini and whiskey) are spared in DeVoto’s The Hour. Cookbooks aren’t even spared:

“I’m talking about cookbooks. Every publishing house has from three to a dozen of them and they are money in the bank. Soon or late, usually not very late, this season’s novel about the bitch with the compassionate heart in rural Georgia or the court of Louis XV stops selling. A cookbook never does. In season or out, fat years or lean, it is the mainstay of the publishing business. The grandchildren of the author, who lived in an era when recipes began “take four pounds of butter and four dozen eggs,” set up trust funds for their grandchildren and the publisher loves them more warmly than the novelist who makes Book-of-the-Month Club every time. I don’t know how many cookbooks are sold, but it must be upwards of a million copies a year. Every copy has enough virus in it to infect a city of fifty thousand; every copy is a recruiting office for the enemy.”

Who (or what) is the enemy?

Pretty much everything except martinis and whiskey; all the drinks created to bulk up the “Beverages” section of cookbooks.

I’ll spare the details, but of these drink recipes, DeVoto says:

“Merely to read the formulas paralyzes the stomach muscles for as much as twenty minutes and a single sip would send the iron dog of the epoch they originated in galloping toward the nearest fire hydrant.”

Some other gems:

“Throw away that bottle of grenadine. Never buy another one.”

“Cheap liquor is grudge liquor.”

“Don’t have much to do with people who drink sherry at any time except with soup; there’s something wrong with them.”

“Orange bitters make a good astringent for the face. Never put them in anything that is to be drunk.”

“Let’s be clear about this: no Manhattans or rum.”

“Remember always that the three abominations are: (1) rum, (2) any other sweet drink, and (3) any mixed drink except one made of gin and dry vermouth in the ration that I have given.”

I don’t dare tell you what DeVoto thinks about punches and those who make and drink them.

The Martini

It’s probably clear by now that DeVoto was a big fan of the martini. I’ll let his words carry his feelings about the drink:

“The proper union of gin and vermouth is a great and sudden glory; it is one of the happiest marriages on earth and one of the shortest-lived. The fragile tie of ecstasy is broken in a few minutes, and thereafter there can be no remarriage.”

And remember, the martini should only be taken during “The Hour.”

The Hour

So why have I devoted so much time to a review about a tiny book that’s really just a curmudgeon’s celebration of the martini?

Because the final chapter of The Hour is one of the most soothing things I’ve read in years.

Imagine that stressful week at work, when all that can go wrong does go wrong. You’ve worked late; the sun has slipped behind the horizon and you rush through the city to find camaraderie and something to take the edge off a rough week.

It’s not that you want to lose yourself in the bottom of a glass; you just want to go from the stress of a busy week at work and lose yourself in a world where everybody knows your name. (Or where you can, at the very least, relax and discuss things that really matter–things beyond the toil of the days–with people who appreciate time away from work as much as you.)

Can you hear your body settling into the over-sized chair and smell the distant whiff of juniper and lemon oil?

The last chapter of DeVoto’s The Hour is like having that second martini after a long week of work. With words, DeVoto does in one small chapter what took distillers hundreds of years to do with their craft.

Gone is the sarcasm. DeVoto talks about drinking in clubs he’s frequented for so long that “my friends’ grandchildren stand up and offer me their chairs.”

He celebrates the hour as a time not be locked away in clubs with stuffy men talking business, but taking drinks in the company of smart women. (I found this attitude interesting given the time the book was written, a time when women were still seen more as cute objects than equals. DeVoto goes as far as saying that if you can’t have a martini in the company of a smart woman whom you adore, a martini isn’t worth having.)

He also writes:

“So it is a good place to reach just ahead of the pursuing feet. Tiptoeing across the almost dark cavern of the lounge (at the hour all lamps should be shaded and only a few of them lit, for if the body is in shadow the soul will the sooner turn toward the sun), I take my drink to a chair so big that one’s head cannot be seen above it’s back, by a window that faces a cross-town street. We are near enough the avenue to hear the traffic diminishing. This is the hour of diminishing, of slowing down, of quieting. Thus islanded in dimness and the murmur of traffic fading toward silence, one is apt for the ministration. Calm against background tumult is an essential of the hour; it is the firelight shining through the cabin window on the snow of the forest, the strong shack beside a lake whose waters a gale is hurling up the shore.”

"Certainly I'll have another one. The water of life was given to us to make us see for awhile that we are more nearly men and women, more nearly kind and gentle and generous, pleasanter and stronger, than without its vision there is any evidence we are. It is the healer, the weaver of forgiveness and reconciliation, the justifier of us to ourselves and one another. One more, and then with a spirit made whole again in a cleansed world, to dinner." - Bernard DeVoto

I’ve written about it before — there’s no denying that e-books are on the rise.

I’ve also written about why I believe there will always be books.

Here’s why…

Meet John Picacio

I have a friend who illustrates book covers. While he’s concerned about the trend of some publishers not going all out for many e-book covers, things change. Already, we’ve made the leap from the black and white screen of the Kindle to slick color on the iPad. I can only imagine e-book technology will keep getting better and that there will still be a need for great covers like John paints. (Check out a glimpse of John’s process, here.)

I know I’m not the only one who doesn’t mind paying a little bit more for something that feels like the whole package. Even if it’s an e-book, I like a professional cover.

John’s done covers for special editions of books at Subterannean Press and other publishers. I believe publishers that think like Subterannean will always publish books — because the books they publish are a lot more than your typical book.

Publishers know there will always be that big handful of die-hard book lovers who are willing to pay a lot of money for a special book — whether it’s a first printing or a limited edition.

Cory Doctorow’s With a Little Help

This evening, I read a blog entry by a die-hard fan of many different things named Hal Stern.

Look at the entry and tell me that there aren’t people who will always love books and I’ll call you a fool.

To say the author, the printer, and the collector are all fixated on the little things that make a book special is an understatement.

While the book may not be your kind of thing, look at all the little details in the way the book was wrapped and boxed for shipping.

That’s a labor of love from every angle.

That kind of love for a physical book will never die…

The Crystal Ball

While paperbacks may go the way of the dinosaurs one day, books will always be there; they will continue being special things some people are willing to work many hours to afford and add to their collections.

I have books I’d fight for. Seriously, if somebody tried taking them from me, they’d be in a world of hurt!

What about you — do you have books you can’t imagine ever giving up? What are they?

And the big question: will you always buy books?

I know I will, and I’m not the only one…