YES. I’m tired of all of you pretentious assholes saying that I’m not “really reading” because I use a kindle.
Yes, you are reading.You are just reading a “lesser” form of book. Reading isn’t just reading the words on a page/screen, it’s smelling the book, new or old, it’s wearing the books spine out after rereading it for the X’th time, it’s leaving crease marks on a page you flipped too fast because you were that eager to get to the next page, and most of all, it’s losing yourself in a book to the point where the world around you no longer exists. And I, for one, cannot lose myself in an electronic screen. The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic. So you may be reading a book, but you will never truly experience a book unless you read it in a printed medium.
lol this pretentious bullshit. “The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic.” i mean really. anyway, the words of your reblog have no depth or meaning to me since i’m reading them in electronic form, but u tried it
LMAO I CAN’T
go sniff a book and get the fuck off tumblr bc ur electronic words mean nothing 2 me
BUT GUYS IT’S NOT A REAL BOOK B/C YOU CAN’T SMELL IT
YOU CAN’T RUN YOUR TONGUE UP ITS SPINE
YOU CAN’T WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS IN WHAT YOU PERCEIVE TO BE ITS EAR
do you not realise how creepy you sound
you’re reading a fucking paperback not eating pussy
lmao “lesser form of reading”
literally reading is the act of words on a page and if you think it’s more than that then I think you have bad reading skills
These snooty folks need to spend some time travelling with an ebook reader. That’s what cured me.
I used to be one of those “real books are better” folks (though never THIS bad, good god). But then I went overseas to Japan. And you CANNOT carry a lot of books around when you’re travelling, you cannot. They’re heavy, they’re bulky, they do not travel well.
But you NEED words, when you’re alone in a country where you don’t speak the language well. After spending a day struggling to remember and correctly pronounce rudimentary words for weather and directions and ordering a meal, sometimes you need to lose yourself in fluid, flowing words, as badly as you need air. So I swallowed my pride and my preferences and set about setting up my netbook as an e-reader.
And that’s when I learned it was never the feel of the pages or the smell of the ink. Those things had only ever been special by association. Because it was always the words. And the words elevated everything, made new associations special. Choosing e-reader software. Tweaking the settings. Choosing a font and screen brightness and page colour and font size and margins that were EXACTLY RIGHT. Browsing amazon, Gutenberg, lists of Creative Commons licensed works, author blogs. Clicking a button and just like that, like MAGIC, receiving a new book across hundreds of miles of ocean.
Sitting quietly at a table in a twenty four hour noodle shop, pouring rain rattling down the windows, slurping hot kakiage soba at one in the morning and losing myself in a Terry Pratchett novel on the screen of my beat up little netbook.
And I sometimes look back at that netbook and the look and feel of it with the same fierce fondness I have felt and still feel for ink and paper.
Because it wasn’t the paper that made the words better. It was the other way around. It was ALWAYS the words.
Jesus Christ Almighty.
A book is a thing. It’s a delivery system. It’s a vehicle for THE ACTUAL THOUGHTS OF ANOTHER HUMAN BEING by which they are TRANSMITTED INTO YOUR BRAIN WITHOUT SPEECH.
E-books or paper, it doesn’t matter (save on a personal level). It’s still as close to telepathy as we mere humans are likely to get.
Some people need the ritual of paper. Some just want to press a button and mainline that shit. I don’t give a fuck! And if you give a fuck to the point where you’re proselytizing in that obnoxious highbrow fashion, you need to get clear of me because you’re about to wake up The Punchin’ Twins.
A moment of silence as The Giver joins Percy Jackson in the graveyard of horrendously inaccurate movie adaptations
*His Dark Materials fandom wails softly in the distance*
*Eragon fandom shrieks from the darkest pit of hell*
*ATLA fandom watches with dead eyes*
*The Dark Is Rising fandom whimpers quietly*
hey do you know what’s super cool
each Discworld series has a sort of set of key themes, which match the key characters, and all the books in that series centre round the theme
for example the Witches’ books are all centred around words and their power, so it’s all theatre and plays and stories and fairytales and opera and shakespeare - because on the Disc the power of witches comes through words
and the Death books are all about great big capital-lettered human concepts, like Justice, Oblivion, Hope, Belief, and Time, because after all, that’s what exactly Death is (only he happens to have developed a conscience and a like of cats)
and then the Vimes books are all about people, and people in charge of other people, and how the people in charge of other people are perhaps best suited to not being people at all, and instead being something much more harmless like a teapot, and so you’ve got so so many repeated themes of mobs of people and kings of people and the importance of caring about the little people because the big people are too busy being big to give a damn and each Vimes book has more and more types of people, dwarves, werewolves, trolls, gargoyles, feegles, zombies, goblins, even vampires… because the whole point of Watch is people - to keep the bad people away from the not-currently-bad-people & keep the occasionally-alright-people safe.
anyway, basically, Terry Pratchett’s a genius.
A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat, flexible parts (still called “leaves”) imprinted with dark pigmented squiggles. One glance at it and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, the author is speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time ― proof that humans can work magic.
Carl Sagan (via kushandwizdom)
Printer’s ink has been running a race against gunpowder these many, many years. Ink is handicapped, in a way, because you can blow up a man with gunpowder in half a second, while it may take twenty years to blow him up with a book. But the gunpowder destroys itself along with its victim, while a book can keep on exploding for centuries.Christopher Morley, The Haunted Bookshop (via observando)
A moment of silence
for all those
with absolute shit movie adaptions
We are so sorry that happened to you
id like to add
you wanna talk about bad adaptations?
I honestly didn’t even have to scroll down to know that was coming
1.Wall of books — Amsterdam
2.Bookstore Mural — Pittsboro
3.Inside a Bookshelf — Sweden
4.Library Mural — Poland
5.Flying Books — San Francisco
6.Heart, Culture and Pedagogy — Canada
7.La Bibliotèque De La Cité — France
8.Larchmere Mural — Ohio
9.Duluth Public Library - Minnesota
10.Transformer Books — Russia
Today in Cool Stuff in the Mail, it’s The Mincing Mockingbird Guide to Troubled Birds, which takes those Anne Taintor magnets I bet EVERY ONE OF YOU has owned at some point and remixes them with, well, troubled birds.
(I’m especially excited about this because previously, everyone I knew had those magnets but I had no idea where they were actually from)
By Crom! is my joke-a-panel autobiographical comic featuring life advice and spiritual guidance from Conan the Barbarian. It ran from January 2012 to May 2014, and is collected in two books, The Collected By Crom! and Full Colour Cromulence. You can read the archives on WealdComics.com, and grab the books in print and in PDF.
This is weirdly inspiring.
this is such a good comic
ahahahaha I love this :’)
I need to stop seeing things I need.
I love this. O.O
I AM PRINTING THESE OUT AND PUTTING THEM IN PLACES OF NOTICE AND INTEREST IN MY HOME.
IN GILDED FRAMES
Book 1: Harry Dresden and the Crazed Magic Drug Lord (Storm Front)
Book 2: Harry Dresden and ALL the Goddamned Werewolves (Fool Moon)
Book 3: Harry Dresden and Some EXTREMELY Pissed Off Ghosts and Vampires (Grave Peril)
Book 4: Harry Dresden and the Psychotic Faerie Queens (Summer Knight)
Book 5: Harry Dresden and the Most Badass Demon Bad Guys Ever (Death Masks)
Book 6: Harry Dresden and the King of the Sex Vampires (Blood Rites)
Book 7: Harry Dresden and A MOTHERFUCKING ZOMBIE T-REX! (Dead Beat)
Book 8: Harry Dresden and the Horror-Movie-Monster-Shaped Phages (Proven Guilty)
Book 9: Harry Dresden and Even More Sex Vampire Related Problems
Book 10: Harry Dresden and Several More Reasons Why Fallen Angels Are Jackasses (Small Favor)
Book 11: Harry Dresden and Some Pretty Serious Internal Issues for the White Council (Turn Coat)
Book 12: Harry Dresden and Approximately Three Bazillion Angry Vampires (Changes)
Book 13: Harry Dresden and the Downsides of Not Having a Body (Ghost Story)
Book 14: Harry Dresden and the Even More Psychotic Faerie Queens (Cold Days)