Eek! Bookless Borders!

Last Friday, Matt and I decided to do a little window shopping along Michigan Ave. to kill some time after we'd arrived about half an hour early for our reservation at the Rosebud restaurant on Rush. Strolling down Chicago Ave., then turning north toward the Godiva store, I stopped dead in my tracks. I guess I hadn't been over that way in awhile, because I experienced a sudden wrenching in my heart as I saw the full display of empty bookshelves through the windows of what used to be Borders. I gasped audibly. (Apparently, I'm completely behind the times, because news reports in 2009 announced that Borders would be closing its "flagship Michigan Ave. store" in 2010 because it was not meeting its profit goals.)

It's not that I'm particularly attached to that Borders (although I do have an affinity for Borders, in general). In fact, there's one conveniently located just up the street from my office, and it appears to be firmly in tact, at least for awhile. But that empty store was a stark reminder that the world is going digital, and that, well, bibliophiles like myself are growing fewer and farther between. I expressed to Matt that I'd been clinging to the hope that the physical book--the smell, the pages, the writing in the margins--would hold its own in the battle against digital, despite the fact that we've seen print newspapers and magazines hanging by threads (if not disintigrating altogether) for many years now. Come to think of it, I now see far fewer books in the hands of commuters each morning than I did when I first moved to Chicago a little over two years ago.

Is it my age that has me clinging to the feel of paper, the scent of fresh pages, creased spines, and margins full of notes from the first, second, fifth read-through? Am I hesitant about the digital revolution because I am a creature of habit, resisting the way my grandparents resist the cell phone my concerned uncle bought for them? Honestly, how could an e-reader chock full of digital books ever trump the satisfaction of stuffed bookshelves? I think I'm becoming even more stubborn about my books because I know, deep down, that I, too, will eventually shed my stacks of paper in favor of the ebook revolution. Someday soon, it will be as passe and ridiculous to carry a stack of books as it was for Ron Weasely to wear his hand-me-down robes at Hogwarts in Harry Potter.

Practically speaking, digital books do make sense. To think that I could have gone to grad school without the horrendous neck and shoulder pain from carrying all those books around in my bookbag! Yet, I can't imagine writing a thesis without all the books strewn across my living room floor, flung open to all of the "important pages" whose exerpts would wind their way into one of my chapters.

Practically speaking, though, I start to wonder if maybe I shouldn't really sell all those lit and theory books I've been hesitant to part with (just in case I should ever decide to return for the PhD). You know, while they'll still catch a few bucks on Amazon...