Kindle terrified me when it first came out. I called my agent in panic mode, “Is this the end of books?!” I have since calmed down. Mainly because I don’t think books are going to go away as quickly as records, cassette tapes, and CDs. Music is sound and it doesn’t matter where the sound is coming from. Books are a bit different. People (myself included) love the book experience—dog-earring pages, underlining passages, putting a book on a shelf where someone will see it and say “Oh I read War and Peace, too.”

In addition to still loving books, however, I have warmed up to the idea of the Kindle. I don’t own one, but I’ve seen them around and they don’t bite. If someone prefers to read an electronic screen that’s fine by me. Hey, I read the NY Times online and rarely hold it in my hands. It’s all about preference. The thing about Kindle that appeals to me the most is having a stack of heavy books in one small carrying case.

Yesterday, Kindle endeared itself to me even more when I saw my digitally-blessed books. My sister’s boyfriend bought her a Kindle a few months ago and she’s just getting around to using it. Like any good sister, she purchased my books once she figured out how. I’ll admit I had a moment of pride. It wasn’t the same as holding my hardbound for the first time, but I was excited nonetheless. I’m glad the people who prefer Kindle can access my work—should they choose. What matters most is the words are exactly the same.

A few pics:

The pink-covered Kindle.

The first page of For the Love of Letters. Available on Kindle.

The first page of Note to Self. Also available on Kindle.