While I’d hate to occupy the kind of close-minded views religious monks occupied towards Gutenberg’s “black-arts” movable type printing press, I’m not sure about the Amazon Kindle, which is hailed as the first revolution in reading since 1436.

I like the smell of ink and paper when I read. Not because it’s associated in my mind with my history of enjoying ideas, language, narrative and plot. But because reading from a book is a great tactile experience, and pleasurable because it is engaging both mentally and sensuously. I like the feel of paper as I turn the page, I like the smell of ink. I enjoy interactivity with the book when I accidentally smudge characters on the page. I also dog-ear my books prolifically, and enjoy it. With the Kindle, can I dog-ear? From the look of it, it is doubtful.

I also like old books which have been passed down, re-bought, inherited, and inevitably with some drawings in the page gutter, doodles and notes scrawled around the text, or the name of the owner and date of purchase on the inside of the cover. With the Kindle, all this is lost.

What’s more, what about the perceived social aspect of reading? I’ll confess I quite like being the voyeur on public transport and spotting what people are reading. In 2004 I noticed six out of ten commuters on the Boston T all reading Dan Brown’s ‘Da Vinci Code’. With the Kindle, all we’ll see is six out of ten commuters holding a grey Etch-a-Sketch.

What about artists and illustrators, whose work became famous through the medium? Book covers and title pages existed originally to protect the unbound book from dust and damage, but now the data is digital, there is no need for physical means of protection.

The only thing that really tempts me is the prospect of being able to read comfortably in bed. No more awkward page-turning accompanied by shifting over. With the Kindle, the exercise of imagination and innovation in finding a comfortable position to read is lost.