As an English Literature major, my realization that the Kindle was a divisive topic began when I innocently retrieved the offending object from my bag, in order to do one of my assigned readings in the library last semester. Its odd size-existing in the no-man's land between phone and iPad, the gentle, ominous glow of the screen, and its lightweight unfamiliarity shook my classmates to their core. Their exclamations of laughter, surprise, and horror at my acquisition were strong, and prompted me to ask myself: What is it about this device that feels so unnatural, foreign, and downright uncool?

While this may sound like an inconsequential argument over a somewhat irrelevant Amazon-branded product that lines Jeff Bezos’s pockets, the debate over the Kindle within the literary community is fierce and opinionated. The rise of the e-reader isn’t new; however the rage and internal conflict that burns within book-lovers' hearts remains eternal.

I sought to explore why this piece of technology causes such an intense reaction among readers, and wasn’t sure if I would come any closer to the answer. But I’ll share with you what I learned, and how you can use it to reconcile your own relationship with the device.

Something about an e-reader as opposed to an old-fashioned book just feels inherently wrong. A strong statement that I know must sound odd coming from somebody who owns one. Now, before I get hounded for being biased, part of my interest in this subject is to try and understand my own mixed emotions over the e-reader.

I took to the streets (my friends and family) to find out their opinions.

Natalie, English Major:

“I used Kindles for a while but I've reverted back to books because it is easier on my eyes and it makes my bookshelf more attractive. Kindles feel too small and millennial. However, to play devil’s advocate, Kindles are fabulous for hammock reading. But you don’t have to charge a book! Books make me feel more unplugged.”

Sofia, also an English Major:

“KINDLES ARE FOR LOSERS

GET A REAL

BOOK

cause everything good about a book loses its purpose

like it’s not like it’s on your phone or something so you don’t have to carry something extra

you still need something else and it’s just ANOTHER SCREEEEEEEN

it feels so, so wrong

it feels like the in-between between a book and a phone.”

Ella, yet another English Major:

“I like the accessibility aspect of it but there’s something about holding a physical book and smelling the pages… I know that sounds so corny, but it is really nice to have a growing bookshelf. But for like traveling, I think the Kindle wins!!!”

Leila, exceptionally cool friend living in Rome:

“The sensory act of reading a physical book will always win, but in a pinch, an e-reader is a much better alternative to burning your retinas with a pdf on your phone.”

Miro, supportive boyfriend:

“I’m team book. Reading with a kindle seems to take away the most meaningful aspect of reading books, replacing the wholesomeness with efficiency and ease. Also, libraries are so important and if we all read Kindles, libraries would no longer exist and that would suck.”

Mum, the one who gave me the Kindle in the first place:

“I initially was against the Kindle because I prefer the tactile feel of a book and felt more connected to the purpose of reading. I moved to the Kindle because of the convenience of reading in bed.

In a world that is endlessly and incessantly digitally connected, reading a physical book is a tactile and visceral feeling that connects you not only with your imagination, and the story being told, but also countless generations of humans engaging in the same activity.

After compiling my evidence, I could see that though nearly everyone agreed that the Kindle has an aspect of convenience, it just doesn’t beat the original. I decided it came down to two elements: The disconnectedness of the screen and the absence of the physical book. I came to the realization that although I asked them in a lighthearted inquiry, there was really one, simple, incredibly human feeling that ran through all of the answers I collected.

A feeling of loss.

It isn’t so much that the Kindle itself is the offender, but rather the gutting loss of an experience almost as old as time itself: reading an actual book. In a world that is endlessly and incessantly digitally connected, reading a physical book is a tactile and visceral feeling that connects you not only with your imagination, and the story being told but also countless generations of humans engaging in the same activity. Clicking on a bright screen on a plastic square just isn’t the same, and now I understand why.

All in all, I appreciate the Kindle. The more accessible reading can be, the better. However, it’s time to acknowledge that with the rise of technology, it seems to still be important to cling on to the old guard. Physically turning moth-eaten, dust-riddled pages may be old-fashioned, but perhaps it’s supposed to be. The feeling of satisfaction of closing a book at its completion cannot be replicated digitally. Classics like Pride and Prejudice, Moby Dick, and War and Peace deserve a spot on your physical bookshelf, regardless if you’ve actually read them or not.

I’ve learned that the indescribable and confounding rage that the Kindle seems to evoke within the literary community is not irrational, but rather, a natural response. We’re in mourning.

Illustration: Brigitta Brumund