Phone down!

A digital detox is the need of the hour

What is the first thing you do when you get up in the morning? If you are anything like me you reach out for your phone to put off the alarm. And then, instead of putting it straight back down and heading for the bathroom to brush your teeth, you start scrolling. 

You take a look at X — what we still think of as Twitter — to see what news has broken overnight. You check into Instagram to see how many likes your post has garnered. You take a quick peek at your favourite news sites. You open your mail to see if anything needs replying urgently. And only then do you start your morning routine. 

Well, for me at least, this is going to change from this week forward. I have been convinced for a while that I need to reduce my dependence on my phone and conduct some sort of digital detox. I need to control my phone usage before my phone starts controlling me. And these are just some of the measures I intend to take. 

• No scrolling on the phone for at least an hour after I wake up. I will still use the phone alarm. But once I have put it off I will put the phone down and not pick it up again until I have finished my breakfast. Instead, I will read the newspapers, chat with my husband, and think about the day ahead without any digital distraction. 

• Leaving my phone behind when I head out for my daily walk. Instead of listening to music, podcasts or audiobooks, I will focus on my surroundings instead. Listening to birdsong, appreciating the beauty of spring flowers, watching peacocks frolic in the shade, eavesdropping on interesting conversations taking place around me. That sounds like a good plan to me. 

• A phone detox also means getting over my compulsive need to photograph everything that strikes me as unusual, beautiful or interesting. Instead of photographing every sunset, clicking every meal that I have ever eaten, chronicling every amazing view I see on my travels, I will focus on being present in the moment. Savouring the experience in real time makes more sense than recording it in your photo gallery, which you will probably never look at later. 

• Resisting the impulse to respond to every WhatsApp message and reply to every email the moment they pop up on my phone. Instead, I will carve out an hour every morning and evening to respond to messages. And refuse to engage with anyone digitally outside of that time period. 

• Move to reading physical books to put myself to sleep rather than rely on the Kindle app on my phone. While I enjoy reading e-books (none of that physical-books-only snobbery for me) the temptation to skip out of the app and check out social media sites on my phone is often too strong to resist. So, it’s best to let it rest on the nightstand while I lose myself in the pages of a ‘real’ book. Wish me luck!

Life lines

There are a hundred little things that make life worthwhile – let’s appreciate them

 

Columnists – and I am no exception – tend to rely heavily on what I like to call the ‘pet peeve’ narrative. You know what I mean, right? All those columns on ‘What I hate about airline travel’ or ‘The most annoying things about working in an office’ or even ‘The top ten ways in which my husband/wife drives me crazy’.

 

Well, this column is travelling in a different direction this week. Instead of another litany of complaints about what I hate about something, I am going to share a list of what I love about life. So, here in no particular order are just some of the things that I believe make my life worth living. 

 

·       Those lazy mornings when I can sleep in and not bother with the alarm. There is no luxury quite like lingering in bed, swinging gently between sleep and wakefulness, knowing that another ten minutes of snuggling beneath the covers is not going to throw your day out of gear. 

·       That first cup of coffee that signals that the day has begun. The aroma of coffee beans in the kitchen; the first sip that jolts my tastebuds awake; the caffeine jolt that follows; I don’t think I could get through the day without this.

·       The ability to download any book I want on my Kindle at any time of the day or night. Growing up in pre-liberalization India means that I still remember a time when new books took weeks if not months to arrive in Indian bookshops. So, it feels like a minor miracle every time I read a review of a new release and just open my Kindle app and download it within seconds. What a time to be alive!

·       Long-haul flights without wifi which mean: no catching up with emails; no scrolling through Twitter or Instagram; no doom-scrolling through news sites. Instead, it’s all about watching trashy movies or catching up on a good book – or both – with a glass or two (or four – who’s counting? Not me!) of champagne.

·       The fact that I live in a city that has so much to offer. There are beautiful parks in which I can walk through the year. There is no dearth of historic monuments to visit. There are plenty of museums showcasing everything from antiquities to art to textiles. There is a clean, functioning, well-connected Metro to take me to far-flung corners of the city. And there are plenty of coffee-shops and restaurants to hang out with my friends and family.

·       I am grateful that I have the downtime and the resources to go on holiday every once in a while. But I am even more grateful that much as I love going on vacation, what I love even more is coming back home. Holidays and exotic locations are all very well, and don’t get me wrong, I enjoy them as much as the next person. But there is nothing quite as lovely as sinking into the depths of my own sofa, or slipping between the covers in my own bed. 

In my view, the best gift you can get is the ability to enjoy your everyday life as much as you enjoy a break from it. That’s where true happiness stems from – and may each of us be lucky enough to experience it.

Thrill a minute

Here’s a list of books that will keep you reading late into the night

 

I am happy to report that the sequel to my book, Race Course Road, is finally done. I spent the last month putting the final touches to the manuscript before sending it off for typesetting, and in a couple of months, Madam Prime Minister will be available in all good bookshops across the country (and on Kindle, obviously).

 

So, how did I celebrate, you ask. Well, having spent so much time writing, revising, and proofing, I treated myself to a reading extravaganza, bingeing on my favourite genre: thrillers of every persuasion. Here’s a small sample of what I devoured. You might want to taste a mouthful or two as well. 

 

A Slow Fire Burning by Paula Hawkins

 

If you loved The Girl On The Train, you will enjoy this new thriller from Hawkins. The story begins with the murder of a young man on a houseboat, with suspicion immediately falling on a blood-soaked girl who is seen leaving the boat soon before his body is discovered. But as is usual with Hawkins, nothing is as it seems, and the suspects pile up as the plot becomes more and more complicated. And the denouement, when it comes, will be nothing like you imagined. 

 

You Love Me by Caroline Kepnes 

 

I remember being completely blown away by You, the first novel to feature Joe Goldberg as its anti-hero, when it first came out. Written from the point of view of a stalker, and later, murderer, it was quite unlike anything I had ever read. The second book in the series, Hidden Bodies, was quite as unsettling – as was the Netflix adaptation of the series. But this, the third outing of Joe, finds our protagonist looking to put his past behind him and settle down, thanks to the love of a good woman. Needless to say, nothing goes according to plan, as Joe’s essential nature reasserts itself. 

 

Hostage by Clare Mackintosh

 

This is another edge-of-the-seat thriller by the Queen of Suspense. Flight attendant Mina, grappling with marital woes, volunteers to do duty on an inaugural 20-hour non-stop flight from London to Sydney. But soon after take-off, she is handed a note by a passenger: the plane should not reach its destination, or else something will happen to her five-year-old daughter back home. How do you balance the lives of so many strangers on the airplane with that of one life: that of your daughter? There are no good answers to that question.  

 

Big Summer by Jennifer Weiner

 

Daphne Berg and Drue Cavanaugh were unlikely friends in high school until a humiliating (for Daphne) incident destroyed their relationship. Now, six years later, Daphne – always a big girl – has become a plus-sized influencer on Instagram, when Drue reappears in her life, contrite about what split them apart and insistent that Daphne attend her upcoming society wedding on Cape Cod as her bridesmaid. Daphne agrees and that’s when things take a turn and this book turns from a lighthearted comedy to a murder mystery. This abrupt switching of genres might jar in the hands of a lesser writer but Weiner, as always, makes it work. 

 

Not A Happy Family by Shari Lapena

 

Fred and Sheila Merton host Easter dinner for their three children (and their partners) and make an unexpected announcement that causes tempers to flare and disagreements ensue. The next day, the couple are found dead, murdered by person or persons unknown. Were the murders the result of a break-in gone wrong or did one of their children finally snap and kill them? Suspicion falls on every member of the family as the story unfolds, and the suspense is built so skillfully that you will find it hard to put this book down.

 

False Witness by Karin Slaughter

 

Your past has a way of catching up with you no matter how hard you try to leave it behind. Leigh Collier has overcome a traumatic childhood to build an ordinary life as a defence attorney with a teenage daughter she co-parents with her husband, from whom she is amicably separated. But then, she comes face-to-face with a client, who knows exactly what she is trying to escape from her past. And the only way to deal with him is to enlist the help of her younger, estranged sister, Callie. Part family tragedy, part thriller, this story will keep you up at night.

 

One year of Covid

Here’s what has kept me going these past 12 months

 

As I sit down to write this column, it is exactly one year since we first went into a Covid-induced lockdown. As anniversaries go, this one is pretty grim, mostly because the virus is still alive and well and kicking our ass. After a brief period during which cases went down – inducing hope and optimism among us all – the counts are going up every day, thanks to the various variants that are spreading rapidly among the population. 

 

But even as we struggle to see light at the end of this particular tunnel, I think it makes sense to pause and give thanks to what sustained us as we lived through a pandemic. So, here, in no particular order of importance, is a list of all that I am thankful for this past year.

 

·       My book project: If I hadn’t had a writing project to focus on, I think the enforced isolation of the past year would have driven me mad. But, as luck would have it, I was halfway through the sequel to my political thriller, Race Course Road, when Covid struck. So, I could use the time that I was sequestered at home to concentrate on finishing my book. And that’s exactly what I did, spending every afternoon hunched over my laptop, furiously writing and revising. I am happy to report that I am all done now, and my new novel will be out by the end of the year – by when, with luck, Covid will have run its course, and I can actually promote it in person rather than on Zoom. Well, here’s hoping, anyway.

 

·       My Kindle: If writing sustained one part of me, reading kept the other half stimulated. And I couldn’t have done that without my trusty Kindle during those dark months when bookshops were shut and the only way to access new releases was to download them on an e-reader. Once I was done with new titles, I fell back on my comfort reads, scouring for old titles that had kept me entertained during my school and college days. That meant everything from Enid Blyton’s Mallory Towers series (yes, really!) to some of my favourite Georgette Heyers to such classics as Nora Ephron’s Heartburn.

 

·       Mini-breaks: After many months spent in lockdown, it felt like a special treat to head out for a mini-break, even if it was to destinations that were a few hours’ drive away. Even cities like Jaipur and Agra that we tend to take for granted in normal times, took on an exotic hue in my travel-starved eyes, as we ventured forth from home after being cooped up for what felt like forever. And it didn’t seem to matter that we spent our days within the confines of our hotel; it still felt like a lucky escape to an alternate universe so that we could return refreshed to our normal, humdrum lives.

 

·       Walks in the parks: Mini-breaks are well and good, but a girl also needs something to break the tedium of the normal workday. And if that girl is lucky enough to live in Delhi, then a walk in the park is just the ticket. Over the last few months, I have marked the end of my writing time by slipping on my sneakers, pulling on my mask and heading out to one of the many parks that litter Delhi. There are about four on my list and I alternate my walks between them, varying my route every day so that I have fresh vistas to gaze on, varied flowers to smell, and different monuments to marvel at. Without that blast of fresh air to blow my workday woes away, I don’t think I could have coped. 

 

There was much else that sustained me, of course. The companionship of my husband; the love and embrace of family; the supportiveness of friends. But most of all, it was the hope that we would all see better days soon.   

 

Reading List

Here are my top picks from among the books I read over the past year

I don't know about you, but when it comes to discovering new and exciting authors, I rely on two sources. The first is Amazon, which prompts me towards new finds based on the books that I have already bought or downloaded. And the second is the kindness of friends, those like-minded souls who call me up excitedly to tell me about that 'brilliant new author' that I simply must read. And honest to God, neither source has let me down till date.

So today, in the spirit of passing it forward, I am sharing with you my list of the most amazing books I have read over the last year. I can't recommend them enough!

* All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: I had my doubts about this one. It is set during the Second World War. It's two main protagonists are a blind French girl and a young German boy which is a member of Hitler Youth. It didn't sound very promising at all. But I trusted the word of a good friend and bought it. And I am very glad I did. The story is amazing in itself but it is the lyrical quality of the writing that draws you in. Acutely observed, beautifully articulated, this is a book that will stay with you

* The Truth About The Harry Quebert Affair by Joel Dicker: Originally written in French, the release of its English edition was marked by rather sniffy reviews. But it is telling that even those reviewers who carped that there was nothing special about the book confessed that they had, nevertheless, found it gripping. And they were right about that at least: this is cracking good read. A young author struggling with writer's block goes to visit his mentor and old professor, when the body of a young girl who disappeared 33 years is discovered on the professor's property. Buried alongside her is a manuscript copy of the novel that made the professor, Harry Quebert, famous. So, did he do it? Or didn't he? The young author grapples with these questions as he attempts to save his saviour.

* Dear Daughter by Elizabeth Little: If you liked Gone Girl, you will love this. The 'dear daughter' in the story is Janie Jenkins, who is convicted of her mother's murder and sentenced for life only to be set free on a technicality after ten years. Is she guilty or innocent? Even Janie doesn't know for sure. So, she sets out to find out what really happened on the night her mother died, dodging a media machine determined to hunt her down and a crime blogger who is obsessed with her guilt. This one will keep you awake all night.

* You by Caroline Kepnes: This is a story about obsessive love, told from the point of the view of the stalker, a book store manager who fixates on a young student who visits his book store. Sounds appalling, right? And yes, on the face of it, it certainly is. But such is the skill with which Caroline Kepnes depicts a sick mind that by the end of the story you find yourself immersed in the world of the narrator, in which the usual moral codes don't apply. And even more shockingly, you begin to see things from his perspective, even though you know in your rational mind that he is pure evil.

* The Widow by Fiona Barton: Written by a former journalist, this is a book that is deceptive in its simplicity. The story unfolds through the viewpoints of different characters: the widow (of the title) whose recently-deceased husband was once accused of abducting a child; the reporter who tries to persuade the widow to sell her story to her newspaper; and the police detective who was investigating the case of the missing child. The constantly-shifting perspective is unsettling, especially as you discover that nothing is quite what it seems.

* Crooked Heart by Lissa Evans: This is one of the quirkiest books I've read in a long time. Set during the period of the Second World War (honestly, what is this recent obsession with World War II?) it tells the story of a lonely orphan being brought up by eccentric godmother, whose faculties are rapidly declining. After her death, he is evacuated to the country where he is taken in by yet another eccentric woman. The bond between these two damaged creatures evolves slowly as they become partners in petty crime, and create a dysfunctional family all of their own.

* The Sleepwalker's Guide to Dancing by Mira Jacob: This is yet another tale of Indian immigrants in the West, struggling with dislocation, straining against family ties, and trying to do the best they can as they navigate the tightrope between two cultures. But don't let that put you off. Mira Jacob has a lightness of touch which makes Jhumpa Lahiri seem wooden and clunky. This novel, spanning continents and generations, sparkles and shines with wit and humour even as it shines the spotlight on familial relations and the immigrant experience.

The writing is on the wall

The e-book may be here to stay; but the physical book is alive and well, and doing better than ever

So, were the rumours of the death of the physical book greatly exaggerated? You remember them, don’t you? All those articles in the media bemoaning the fact that people were switching over to digital reading devices, and that the sales of actual books were declining year on year. It was inevitable, these doomsdayers assured us, that the book as we know and love it – rustling paper, beautifully crafted covers, and that ineffable smell of print and ink – would soon become a novelty item. Instead all of us would adapt to digital devices and do all our book-reading on one kind of screen (e-readers like Kindle) or another (smartphones and tablets with an e-reader app).

Well, the facts would seem to belie that assertion. According to a recent article in the New York Times, e-book sales fell by 10 per cent in the first five months of 2015 in America. And a Nielson survey showed that the portion of people who read books primarily on an e-reader fell to 32 per cent in the first quarter of 2015 from a high of 50 per cent in 2012.

In the UK, its largest book retailer, Waterstones, announced that it would cease to sell Kindles in its stores, because the sales were ‘pitiful’. It would use the space freed up to display physical paperbacks and hardbacks instead. The move makes sense, given that the sales of physical books in Waterstones rose by 5 per cent in December 2014. The Guardian reported that figures released by Nielson Bookscan showed that sales of print books for the first 36 weeks of 2015 rose by 4.6 per cent when compared to the same period in 2014, the first time such growth had been reported since 2007.

Amazon was quick to read the writing on the bookstore walls. It moved to open its first physical bookstore in November 2015 in Seattle’s University Village neighbourhood (though, of course, there was a designated space for e-readers as well), with the most popular books that week displayed behind the checkout counter. Prominent signs assured customers that the prices in-store were the same as they are on Amazon online, so nobody need fear missing out on a good bargain.

I couldn’t help but smile with quiet satisfaction as I read these stories. It felt good to see that the physical book was pulling its weight in the battle between digital platforms and real-life reading. Except that in my experience, it isn’t so much an either/or situation, but a bit of both.

Speaking for myself, I was a late convert to the pleasures of digital reading. I still don’t own a Kindle but I do have the app on my Ipad. And over the last few years, I have built up quite a library on it, with titles ranging from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I couldn’t find the physical copy the night I watched the movie; hence the impulse purchase) to all five books of the Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin (downloaded before I went on holiday so that I could read those ‘heavy’ tomes without weighing down my suitcase).

But my new-found fondness for the Kindle doesn’t mean that my love affair with the physical book is over. Not by a long measure. I may ‘cheat’ on my first love from time to time, guiltily dipping into the Elizabeth Jane Howard’s The Cazalet Chronicles or my favourite Dorothy L. Sayers mystery late at night, as I read undisturbed on my IPad without disturbing the slumbering household. But after this late-night straying I always slink back home in the light of day, suitably chastened and eager to make amends to my physical read of the moment. Since you ask, it is All The Light We Cannot See, a brilliant book by Anthony Doerr; do pick up a copy or download.

My brain now automatically sorts books between those that I wish to possess physically and those that I am happy to have stored electronically. So, favourite authors like Donna Leon and Daniel Silva are bought in bookstores, and then propped up on my bookshelves to be dipped into as and when I fancy. Books that I am unlikely to want to re-read are downloaded on the Kindle: Jodi Picoult, Robert Galbraith, Harlan Coben, Lee Child are among this list.

Then, there are those authors who enter my life through Kindle and then push their way on to my bookshelves through sheer persistence. I first read Gone Girl on Kindle, but was sufficiently moved to track down and buy physical copies of all the previous books of Gillian Flynn. I discovered Elena Ferrante (the writer not the woman, who still hides behind her pen name and her anonymity) when I downloaded My Brilliant Friend on a whim. But such was the power of the writing that it leapt off the screen and took possession of my nightstand. Since then, I have bought physical copies of all four books of her Neapolitan quartet.

Sometimes this process works in reverse. I discovered Sarah Dunant in print and still treasure the physical book I bought (The Birth of Venus). But the last book (Sacred Hearts) didn’t really resonate, so her latest (Mapping The Edge) has been consigned to my Kindle. Ditto, with Sophie Hannah and Kate Atkinson.

And so it goes, as the e-reader and physical books continue to co-exist happily in my life; as I am sure they do in yours.

Chapter and verse

If you love bookshops, do your bit to keep them alive

I have always believed that you can tell a great city from the fact that it has some great book stores. New York has Barnes and Noble, a ginormous space on 5th Avenue where you could easily get lost as you made your way from the new releases to the classics section. Singapore has the best Kinokuniya I have ever been to, stacked with every book you've heard of or wanted to read (and then some). London has its hallowed Hatchards, a book store positively bristling with history, redolent of the heady smell of paper, and filled to the brim with titles both new and old.

Some of my best holiday moments are spent in such book stores. I could easily spend the better part of the day simply browsing the aisles, picking up an old book of poetry I last read in college to see if it still speaks to me, glancing through the first chapter of the new book by a favourite author, discovering new writers as I trawl through all the titles on display.

So it was only fitting that the last day of my summer vacation found me in the Piccadilly branch of Waterstones. This is one of my favourite stores, not least because it encourages its staff to put up little handwritten recommendation cards about the books that they have enjoyed (and you might conceivable like), but also because it has these capacious red sofas on every floor, where you can sit and read the day away without anyone coming and bothering you or asking if you actually intend to buy anything.

I always start my visit by revisiting my childhood favourites, all those Enid Blytons that I devoured hungrily the moment I got them out of the school library. I chuckle at the adventures of the Five Find-Outers or the Famous Five. I giggle with fond reminiscence as I glance through the Mallory Towers series. I delight at stumbling across such childhood reading staples as The Black Beauty (which I knew by heart at one point).

Then it's time to pay my respects to the books that marked my teenage years and early youth, now reissued with ever-more-fabulous covers. P.G. Wodehouse gets a look-in as does Georgette Heyer. I am, in fact, sorely tempted to buy the books all over again simply because they look so beautiful and elegant (talk about buying a book by its cover!) but manage to resist the temptation by sheer force of will.

I distract myself by going over to the suspense and thriller section where all my favourite authors live. And if I can find a Val McDermid or a Karen Slaughter I haven't yet read, it goes right into my little cart. Only then do I wander over to the new releases to check if there is anything worth getting my teeth into on the flight back home. Yes, I was disappointed by the last Daniel Silva, but maybe the new one, The English Spy, will make me remember why I fell in love with his writing in the first place.

This time, however, as I stood at the till, waiting to pay for my purchases, I noticed something odd. Though the store was positively heaving with customers, everyone was browsing but hardly anyone was buying. Ah yes, of course. The book store was just a place where people stopped by to draw up their wish list. They then went home and ordered the books online, saving about 20 to 30 per cent in the process. Or even better, they downloaded it on their Kindles, so that they could carry around as many as 20 titles at a time.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against buying books online, though I have yet to do so myself. And I do read my books on Kindle as well, especially when I am travelling and need to save on luggage space and stay within weight restrictions. But it kills me a little to see people exiting a book store without having bought even the cheapest paperback.

Think about it. If we all behave in this way, treating the book store as a pit-stop on the way to making an electronic purchase (or download), how long do you think the actual physical bookshop will survive? How long will independent book stores with razor-thin margins manage to stay in business? And even large commercial chains will have to reexamine if they want to stay in brick-and-mortar locations when most book buying takes place online.

If this trend continues, it is only a matter of time before the bookshop begins to wither and die away. And when the last one closes its doors, where will all of us, dedicated book lovers, go to get our fix of that heady perfume of paper and the printed word?

If that scenario alarms you as much as it does me, then let's take a pledge this Sunday morning. If you love books and reading, then make a resolution to buy at least one book from a book shop every month. It doesn't have to be a pricey hardback, even the cheapest paperback will do, so long as you buy it from an actual book store.

It won't make that big a dent in your budget, but for book shops everywhere it could well mean the difference between life and death.

The writing is on the, er, screen…

There is no denying the convenience of the e-book but it’s the real thing that still gives me a thrill

I’ve entered the world of the e-book rather late, but ever since I bit the bullet and downloaded the Kindle app on my iPad and Mac, I’ve gone just a little bit crazy. I stay up late trawling Amazon for titles by my favourite authors, buying a Kindle version, marveling at the speed of the download, and at how – wait for this! – I can read them on both my iPad and Mac, syncing them so the book opens where I last left off reading on either machine.

I know, I know, it’s all a bit sad. The wide-eyed wonder at the marvels of modern technology. The compulsive downloading of books with the feverish urgency of an addict. But tell me this, how could I possibly resist when I found the new titles of two of my favourite authors on Amazon just before I set off on holiday? They still hadn’t hit the shops in India. But there they were on Amazon’s shelves: Donna Leon’s The Golden Egg and Jodi Picoult’s The Storyteller. The freshly-minted covers were gleaming up at me, whispering ‘Buy me, buy me NOW.’

And so, gentle reader, I did.

You cannot imagine my smugness (or perhaps you can) when I set out on my travels with two brand-new titles nesting inside my Kindle app. This was brilliant, I told myself. Counting my previous downloads, I had five books on tap – and all within a tiny gadget that weighed about 650 grams. No more weighing down of suitcases with tomes I had to get through on vacation. I could finally do that glossy-magazine thing of travelling light. Score!

But then I made the mistake of wandering into a bookstore on the first day of my vacation. And there it was: the new Donna Leon book, all mysterious black and glamorous gold, mocking me from the shop window. Ha, it said, don’t you wish you had held out for the real thing?

And you know what? I kind of did. Now that the actual, physical book was in front of me, I wished nothing more than to possess it. It would join the 16 (or is it 17?) Donna Leons lined up on my bookshelf at home, and live happily every after in my study where I could pull it out occasionally, re-read the odd chapter (or hell, re-read the entire book) whenever I felt like it. I would feel its heft in my hands, the pages would whisper as I turned them, and I could breathe in that new-book smell, more evocative than jasmine or lily of the valley.

Of course, I couldn’t possibly do that now. The book had been downloaded on my iPad, I had already started reading it on the flight. How could I possibly justify buying the same book twice (albeit in different forms) to my frugal middle-class brain?

But that night, as I lay in bed with my iPad, scrolling the pages rapidly to get to the meat of the plot, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have been happier reading this in print.

Yes, there is a certain convenience to reading your books on an e-device of some sort (so long as you remember to keep it charged). And e-books are certainly a blessing for people like me who live in small apartments that are already overflowing with far too many (if there can be such a thing) books. And who can deny that there is a certain environmental argument for not felling more trees to produce paper on which books (no matter how execrable) can be printed.

I see all that on a rational level. And now that I have discovered the delights – and the convenience of Amazon – I will certainly be lightening my load with e-books whenever I head out on holiday. But that said, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of holding a brand-new book by one of your favourite authors in your hands, and plunging right in.