Sensing the meaning of a book

I am not nostalgic about books as bound paper objects. I will, however, speak to their ability, for me, to deliver a more complete relationship to whatever they contain than electronic books.

I am prompted by an article in The Chronicle about peripheral differences in the e-book reading experience. For one:

What is the title of my current e-book? When I'm not actually in the act of reading, the author and title are far less of a presence than they used to be. When I open (activate? illuminate?) my e-reader, I am presented with the last page I read. Convenient, yes, but devoid of context. No cover means no strong visual cue to reinforce just who and what I am reading

I am a person of place. Place is a necessary ingredient in who I am, what I value, how I proceed in the world. Also, if I am not a sensualist, I am at least dependent on a number of senses when I read.

When I think of a book I own, I see the book: its cover, its thickness, its deckle edge - the red tattered cover of U.S.A., the fanned-out corners of my Robert Penn Warren poetry books, the faint blue pamphlet-book of A Child's Christmas in Wales. They are part of the story because I am part of the story. I recognize me as I recognize my book.

Also, my books are somewhere, just like me; canted on my bed stand, alternately stuffed with recent letters while rowed upon the back edge of my dresser, at hand on the bottom shelf of my alarm-clock book case, waiting tonight's free moment on top of the piano, ordered in "my" room upstairs on shelves shared with a hundred keepsake treasures. It is a sort of hierarchy; much more complicated (as am I) than alphabetical order or purchase date.

The actualness of books places them in the present (that mysterious place) with me, unlike an ebook which is kind of non-dead: switched on from its non-being everywhere-place to which it will return /transform when switched off.

I must read either form in the present, but I need to bear them with me into the future. For that, for me, I need to know them as I do your face, your handshake, your fragrance even as I wrestle for a lifetime with knowing who you are.