A Resolution to Read More Books

I resolved to read more books. I read plenty of magazines and newspapers, which usually amounts to skimming over articles and saving stacks of magazines to read in detail later.

What I really want is to get lost in a book for hours, like I did years ago. But even though Anne Tyler's latest novel arrived in book stores earlier this month, I've made no move to get "Noah's Compass." And I've been waiting for this book since I finished reading her last one three years ago.

I love the way a new book smells, with its crisp, unmarked pages, but it's even better to turn the soft pages of a decades old book. Once at Winthrop University, I overheard a visitor say she loved the way the old buildings on campus smelled; I smiled to myself, believing she meant that old-book smell that permeated almost every hallway.

Then another student piped up, saying it was probably just a combination of desperation and sweat from students. Oh, how harsh and unromantic!

Ironically, the student was an English major, and for that I despised the words that fell out of her mouth. In my memory, the visitor who loved the old-building smell appeared crestfallen, and rightfully so.

There are some students today who may never know and appreciate the smell of old books. Last fall, Cushing Academy, an elite boarding school in Massachusetts, ousted all 20,000 physical copies of books from its library, replacing them with a database containing millions of digital books that students can access from Amazon Kindles or their laptop computers. According to an NPR broadcast, students had mixed reactions, with some favoring the digital database, while others preferred to hold the actual books in their hands.

One of my favorite books from my own bookshelf is "The Spettecake Holiday" by Edith Unnerstad. Translated from Swedish, this children's book was published in the U.S. in 1958, and as a child I borrowed it from York Public Library several times. I picked it up at one of the library's used book sales in the 1990s and was pleasantly surprised when I looked at the due date card in the back and saw not only my own name stamped there, but my sister's as well. I had checked the book out in 1976 and she in 1974.

In comparison, a Kindle seems downright cold, but I'm sure I will try it out one fine day, maybe after I get around to listening to books on tape. But for now, I need to hold a book in my hands, and just thinking of all this electronic business is making me more eager to keep my New Year's resolution.

I once had a mass communication professor who said paper and ink reading material would never completely go away because you couldn't stick it under your arm and head for the bathroom.

I sure hope he was right.