Kindle: My New Flame
Monday, October 5th, 2009
The screen actually looks like paper. It even has a matte look. Wow.
Why?
I’ve been intrigued by the idea of the Kindle, Amazon’s proprietary, computerized version of a book — actually a lot of books stored in one very light-weight package. But I really couldn’t imagine liking it. After all, my biggest irritation with laptops is that the screens are pretty much impossible to see outside except on the dreariest of days — and who wants to be outside then?
Plus the only way to try one out is to know somebody who has a Kindle or actually buy one from Amazon. Unfortunately, most people I know aren’t anxious to trade in the feel and smell of real books for some cold and possibly complicated alternative.
Then I went to the Pink Palace Craft Fair where Dorothy Northern, an exceptionally talented jewelry creator, graciously let me play with her Kindle.
I’m not sure about love, but it was definitely extreme like at first sight.
The screen was a shocker. It looked like ink on paper. Truly. And you can easily change the type size if you forget your glasses. Dorothy assured me the battery power was good enough to easily last through a trans-Atlantic flight. And she mentioned how just before she was leaving for a holiday, she decided to down load more guide books and maps, and bam, it was done.
Yep. This baby works independently. No computer needed, though you can transfer Kindle books to your computer if you want to. It doesn’t require a wi-fi hot spot and there are no connection or service fees. It holds a whole lot of books, too — claims 1500. And it was unbelievably light. Lighter than a lot of paperbacks.
To repay Dorothy’s good deed in letting me play with her Kindle, I encourage you to visit her website by clicking here.
And, if you dismissed it before, give that Kindle a second thought. Because there’s one additional advantage Amazon doesn’t seem to be promoting: no one will judge you by the cover of the book you are reading. Trash or treasure, it all looks the same to them.
