Looking Out My Back Door: When a crisis isn't a crisis

Back when people first began using e-books, I guess that is what one calls them, my daughter, Shea, said, “Mom, you are such a voracious reader. You should get one of these. You’d like it.”

“And lose the visceral pleasure of a book made from trees? The thickness of the cover, whether hard or soft? The texture of the pages? The smell of ink? The smell of a new book? Or old? The satisfaction of physically turning the pages? Being able to write in the margins should I choose? Lose the sacredness of a book?

“No, thank you. I can’t imagine life without real books.”

Then one day I moved to Mexico, l...