If you take a peek at a book reader’s library, you can tell a heckuva lot about them. Like what sort of sick, vampire fetish they have or what disturbingly-gross aversion towards medieval poetry, written by cross-dressing, albino serfs, they’re akin to. I’m preaching to the choir on that last one, though.
About six-months ago I received an Amazon Kindle as a gift. Truth be told, I was skeptical about the e-reading device. I didn’t buy into its proposed ability to harness my attention away from paper-based books. There was always something . . .
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