Guest Post by Luke Sullivan: Never Shop At A Book Store When You Are Stupid

NOTE:  I am lucky enough work with Luke, so I get to read his stuff all of the time.  I thought this was a nice partner to my previous post, so I asked him if I could publish it on my blog and he graciously agreed.  Luke is the author of "Hey Whipple, Squeeze This", his take on creating great advertising.  



You’ve probably heard that saying: “Never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry.” Well, it makes sense. You end up buyin’ all kinds of junk food that looks yummy, or buyin’ way more than you planned on.

Which reminds me of that time I went to a liquor store sober.

Dude. Big mistake. (“Awww, man, gotta get me some of this vodka. And this gin. Get some gin. Ooooo, tequila, get that.”)

 Well, wouldn’t you know it, just the other day I walked into Book People here in Austin…. and I walked in stupid. Because there is so much that I don’t know, well, suddenly I’m reachin’ for every stinkin’ book on the shelves.

(“Gotta get me the new Franzen book. Oh, man, and lookit this new Blackwell title, ‘Outliers.’ He’s so smart, gotta git that.”)
Man oh man, I nearly flattened the embossed numbers on my Mastercard.

You know what might cure me of this book problem?

The new Kindle. Reason I say that is because the ads say the new Kindle can store 3,500 titles. Three thousand five hundred titles?

Here’s the thing. I’m a pretty fast reader. On vacation, I’ve been known to put away a book a day. But even at my best, … 3,500 titles? Polishing off that digital bookshelf would take nine and a half years of constant speed reading. Even Evelyn Wood, the speed-reading queen herself, man, at around book #1,954 … wouldn’t she just blow up?

Do I really need to carry 3,500 books on vacation? A guy named Barry Schwarz wrote a cool book called The Paradox of Choice. His main thesis: “We assume that more choice means greater satisfaction when it fact it means less.” He posits that a massive number of things to choose from can make a person feel bewildered, then anxious, and ultimately less satisfied after taking a purchase decision.

I think I know what Mr. Schwarz’s talkin’ about. Can you imagine if the first iPod’s commercials promised “A Trillion Songs In Your Pocket.” Man, I’d just tip over at the concept of a mathematical eternity burnin’ a hole in my pocket. I’d blow up.

Don’t get me wrong, I happen to love my e-reader (an iPad). But I don’t think the main promise of a Kindle or an iPad is a Brobdingnagian memory. Just gimme a digital L.L.Bean tote’s-worth. Just enough books to get me through the Labor Day weekend.

Reading Requires All 5 Senses!

I read today, online ironically enough, that the Oxford English Dictionary will NOT EVER be printed again--only being available online from the 4th Edition forward.  (see amazing note at end)

Last night, my 10-year old son looked up from the book he got from the library earlier and asked for a Kindle. (Such a funny kid)

The apocolypse is upon us...no one will have to burn books anymore, they'll just have to delete them. Not as dramatic for those doing the burning/deleting, so hopefully satisfaction in that will go way down and thus will go away...but I digress.

The point is that with the move towards electronica, we risk losinig the context of touch, the meaning that comes from the visceral nature of books and not just from the act of reading it.  I agree with Anna Quindlen when she said, basically, "...that she'd be happy if her kids idea of decorating is building enough bookshelves."

Books have a feel, a smell, a heft, a non-biological warmth to them that not only adds to the experience of the read itself, but they add a context to the space they reside in as well--reading Anna Karenina would not have been the teenage pivotal experience (trite, I know) it was for me if it weren't for my ability to remember the weight of it splayed on my stomach as I dozed on the couch in the sun thinking about what I had just read, the feel of the pages under my hand.  Those visceral memories are a direct link to my growing understanding of language, literature, love, loss, and family--and now, simply knowing it is there in the house, occupying the same space, gives me comfort among other things.  
 
George Robert Gissing said it best:  "I know every book of mine by its smell, and I have but to put my nose between the pages to be reminded of all sorts of things." 

Later, giving my son a back scratch before bed, I ask him why there are so many books in bed with him, on his bedside tables, under his bed.  "I don't know Mom, I just like the feel of them, knowing that they are there with me."

"Would you feel the same way if there was a Kindle next to your lamp or on your bed?" I ask.

"Mom", he say disgustedly, "sleeping on a Kindle would be painful.  Besides, I like seeing them around me."

"Exactly."  I smile and kiss him goodnight, knowing that when he has his own house, he'll have lots and lots of bookshelves in it.  And that makes me happy.



Amazing note: The 3rd Edition of the OED has been in the works for 21 years and will take approximately 80 lexographers another 10 years to finish!  Wow!