Fighting a hacking cough and a headache today - reading an ebook. Not cause and effect. The Devil's Star by Jo Nesbo, well-suited to it with its short chapters and episodic structure.
(Still managed to write 750 words of my own book in two sessions; read considerably more between sleeps.)
I have been reflecting on the comfort of the ereader. Stark, like borrowing a library book that has lost its cover? Fine once you get into the text; it is the story that counts. But with a dry cough and an aching head, it would have been nice to flex the spine of the book and gaze at the front cover and re-read the blurb.
Book covers are like the art cards you buy from galleries and take home to stick on the fridge beneath a magnet of the Eiffel Tower or a blue dog with wobbly eyes. A shelf of books is similar to the rack of cards in the museum shop - stimulating, offering choices and the possibility of adventure. Cover art offers a way into the world of the book and is a reminder of what it is about.
Books lined up on the shelf say something about you; what's in your Kindle is anybody's guess.
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