Why I’ll Always Choose My Kindle Over a Physical Book

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I’ll admit it—I’m that person who will wax poetic about the smell of a new book, the satisfying crack of a fresh spine, and the way a paperback feels in your hands. But when push comes to shove, I’ll still reach for my Kindle every single time. And before anyone gasps and clutches their leather-bound classics, hear me out.

My love affair with the Kindle started back when e-ink screens looked like gray oatmeal and people argued about whether “real readers” would ever go digital. I was one of those early adopters with the second-generation model, proudly showing it off like it was a Michelin star. Since then, I’ve upgraded every few years—part tech geek, part book addict. My current device, the Jade Paperwhite, might just be my soulmate in matte plastic.

Convenience is the main reason my Kindle wins every battle. I’m the kind of reader who juggles four or five books at once—fiction, memoirs, the occasional culinary biography, maybe a self-help title I’ll pretend to finish. With a physical library, that means hauling around a tote bag that could double as gym equipment. But on my Kindle? Everything’s there, neatly waiting for me. Whether I want to lose myself in a novel or read an essay about the meaning of life, it’s all a tap away. No bulk. No decision fatigue.

And yes, I’ve tried reading on my phone and iPad, but let’s be honest—they’re chaos disguised as convenience. Between texts, notifications, and the temptation to Google something mid-sentence, I end up doing everything except reading. My Kindle, on the other hand, doesn’t care about my unread messages. It’s gloriously boring in the best way. No distractions, no apps begging for attention—just me and the story. And that e-ink screen? My eyes thank me nightly. There’s a softness to it that feels more like paper and less like staring into the sun at midnight.

There’s also a small, underrated joy: never losing your place. I have an embarrassing habit of dozing off mid-chapter, and when it happens with a real book, I wake up to bent pages and confusion. But my Kindle? It remembers exactly where I left off—like a loyal friend who quietly says, “Welcome back.”

Another perk that deserves a standing ovation: traveling with it. Whether I’m heading to the beach for a rare vacation or waiting for my next appointment, the Kindle is my constant sidekick. It weighs less than my chef’s knife and carries hundreds of stories, all ready for a long flight or a quiet night. And the battery? It lasts longer than most of my motivation these days.

Maybe part of the reason I cling to my Kindle so fiercely is because of what it represents—freedom. Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure means my energy comes in unpredictable bursts. On the bad days, when my body feels like it’s waging war against itself, I can still travel anywhere through words. My Kindle lets me escape without leaving my recliner, carrying me through stories of resilience, romance, and recipes for hope.

So yes, I understand the charm of physical books. I still have a few treasured ones on the shelf—signed copies, gifts, or the kind I’ll read once and never loan out. But my Kindle? It’s my everyday companion. My reading lifeline. My library on the go.

Now, I’m curious—where do you fall on this literary love triangle? Team Kindle, Team Paperback, or Team “Audiobooks Don’t Count as Reading” (you rebels know who you are)? Drop a comment below or subscribe for more stories about reading, writing, cooking, and the kind of life that happens between the heart and the lungs.