I give things names. I label them. It gives them life, personality. My Samsung notebook is Nettie. My red Citroen C4 is Belinda. Don’t ask me why. When I looked at her parked in the space
outside my flat I just knew she was Belinda.
Why not a French name for a French car?
Who knows?
I have not yet named my Kindle, however. Because I think the name given to my e-reader is sufficient and, actually,
perfect. I love my Kindle. It wasn’t love at first sight, not at
all. More of a slow burner, appropriately.
But the word, Kindle, is so apt and clever. It suggests igniting a fire, and also kin
(ship), family. Familiar. After
initial scepticism and the assertion that it could never replace the feel, the
texture of a paper book, I now read more
than I ever have for years. I still love
books, but there’s definitely room for both, as the reading experience each
offers is both different and complimentary.
What is so appealing about the Kindle is the fact that you can have so
much on the one device and I can chop and change between essays, novels,
non-fiction, etc. It suits the way my
brain works as my mind often jumps about when I read. At the moment, I am simultaneously reading Amazon’s
free guides to publishing direct on the kindle; a novel by Douglas Kennedy
called The Moment; First you write: the worst way to become an almost famous
author by Joni Rogers; and a recent discovery for me, Living, Thinking, Looking: essays by Siri Hustvedt, which marries my fascination with philosophy and neuroscience. 
This leads to the other aspect of e-readers that excites me
– I can see a book on Amazon that interests me and a few clicks and seconds
later, I am reading it. I often download
a free sample and then go on to buy the book.
My appetite for reading is now
almost as voracious as when I was a child, which delights me greatly. The fire has been rekindled.
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