Written by Denise Gary
I walked into a library the other day and smiled, not at the books, but at the smell. At 52, I can still remember the distinct smell of books in the bookmobile I visited as a child. The smell remains one of my earliest childhood memories. Even as a preschooler, I instinctively knew that this smell was the scent of knowledge. I was always eager to get inside the bookmobile, inhale the musty odor, and seek out whatever new adventures I could find in the stack of books I could barely carry – always the maximum number allowed.
Staff and volunteers have been busy putting together book orders down in our basement this week. Being a night owl, I sneaked down into the basement after they were gone one evening to quietly take in the sight and smell of the books lying in stacks upon the tables. Their colorful, enticing covers begged me to read them all. As I reflected upon this experience, I felt a wave of sadness overwhelm me. How long would I be able to take pleasure in this sight . . . this smell? Digital readers. Digital readers are bearing down, quickly taking over the stronghold inhabited by books, the same way digital cameras eradicated film cameras and crippled the photography industry during the past decade.
I normally embrace electronic inventions with relish; however, it took my film camera’s passing to get me to switch over to a digital camera. I had a wondrous film camera that had literally become my friend over the twenty-five years I had used it to chronicle life. It had practically evolved into an extension of my body. I could manually focus the lens in the near dark, just because I knew the camera so well. You could say, with humor, that we were as one. But after a grumbling period of adjustment, I found a new buddy in the digital camera that replaced my old friend. Affection blossomed.
So I found myself pondering the demise of books in the Kids Need to Read basement while surveying the array of literary treasure sparkling before my eyes. I simply love to hold a book in my hands. It feels good. So good. When I open a book cover, I get lost. Do not come find me!
My thoughts turned to the past, when oral storytelling traditions, rock art, and papyrus scrolls delivered truths and lessons about life to children and adults. No, I am not quite old enough to remember rock art or papyrus scrolls! But I do remember my creative brother making up stories as we sat around the campfire when we were children. And I remember how he turned a walk or a dingy ride into a fairy tale adventure, simply by making up a grand story while we moved along. I hung on his every word.
It is the storytelling that is so important, not the delivery method. Books are magnificent, not because they are made of paper, but because they deliver amazing tales in words and art. They provide fascinating accounts of historical conquests, great leaders, heinous villains, scientific discoveries, talking animals, far off places, selfless sacrifices, and on and on. Storytelling is integral to the success of humankind. It matters little whether the stories of our existence are delivered through oral storytellers, scrolls, art, movies, computers, books, or digital books. It is the preservation of storytelling, as well as the passage of knowledge and compassion to our youth that is so imperative.
Kids need to read. Kids will always need to read. Our job is to make sure they are able to read and to create a desire to read within them. Let children dictate what inspires them to read. If eReaders will significantly increase literacy rates—if putting one into the hands of your children will entice them to read—let go of the past and give them one.
Running my hands affectionately along the stacks of books in our basement, I wondered how many lives they would change. I turned and walked up the basement stairs, out of the darkness, and into the light of the ever-changing adventure of life on Earth, carrying with me the “scent of knowledge” that started me down the path of literacy. I am fortunate.
