CAMDEN — On Sunday, my wife and I were gearing up to watch the latest episode of “Game of Thrones” when (at least in this day and age) a minor tragedy struck. Our internet went out.
At first, thinking resetting the router would work I unplugged it, I waited a tense 30 seconds and restored power….Nothing.
While I was doing this, my wife called our internet provider and heard the familiar phrase: “We are aware of the issue and working towards a resolution,” which is a good mantra for an internet company and shows an astounding sense of self awareness. I can almost imagine Al Franken saying it in a mirror as a daily affirmation.
I panicked. I had been looking forward all weekend to settling down on the couch and watching the Starks defend Winterfell. Now, I couldn’t. Worse still, the online world would be flooded the next day with spoilers. What was I to do? How could I fill the minutia of Sunday night without checking Facebook obsessively?
Eventually, the feeling of anxiousness left as I reached for something I’ve rarely felt I had the time for the last few months….I picked up a book. Specifically Ray Bradbury’s “The Martian Chronicles.” I wasn’t trapped by lack of internet. I was freed.
For those among you not familiar with books, let me explain. They’re like E-readers but without a screen. They don’t need recharging or use WiFi. After a while, they develop an earthy smell that promises adventure, triumph, tragedy and comedy.
I’ve devoted a lifetime in the pursuit of purchasing them, buying them as gifts and hoarding a modest library with everything from Lord of the Rings to Maya Angelou poems.
I’ve always been a reader, but have developed a bit of a block lately. I’m not sure why, but I just couldn’t get into a book. Everything I picked up seemed lifeless and boring. I stopped and restarted the same novel several times and just couldn’t march through it. Writer’s block is the worst curse for a writer, but reader’s block - it’s distant cousin- is just as maddening. I felt like not just one, but several worlds were cut off from me. It felt like a form of insomnia. Normally I’m a voracious reader, but for the last few months my appetite had been nill.
“The Martian Chronicles” changed that. The first few pages had me immersed in the descriptions of Mars. Bradbury’s stories were funny and even terrifying. I turned page after page, relishing in the swishing sound as the course yellow pages moved, delighting in the old-book smell that comes from paperbacks. That is the biggest difference in a screen and a physical copy of a book: The tactile sensations of reading are almost as pleasurable as the stories.
I gained a perspective on how much the digital world has changed my habits. I rediscovered a past-time I dearly love and had lost. Going forward, I’m going to try and not fall into a digital trap of nonsense. In other words, I am now aware of the problem and working to resolve the issue.