An Actual, Three-Dimensional Book
I bought a book.
That’s not the interesting part, and I promise you that there is one. I bought a hard copy of a fiction book. Some time ago, I hesitantly stepped into the world of digital books and became very attached to my kindle (we practically picked out china patterns together). My life and reading habits changed drastically, and I couldn’t have been happier for it. Additionally, I procreated, and my house seemed to shrink at the same time- funny how that happens. Due to baby stuff and the babies themselves, space became a highly valued commodity. I simply had no space for books. I know, I know, this seems like a Greek tragedy. Much like Antigone sacrificed, I moved my books to storage. I kept a few tomes out for reference, like my Works of Shakespeare because I never knew when I’d have to look up a character from Macbeth (happened recently- not kidding). And, as I pluck away on my current work in progress, I keep certain necessary materials on hand, such as a demonology encyclopedia. Side note: Never judge a writer by the books on her desk or her internet search history.
However, back to the aforementioned interesting part, as far as fiction pleasure reading, digital kindle versions were really the way to go for me. For one, I just love my kindle, and it loves me back. For two, if I had to make space for the three to five books a month I was buying, the babies would be buried in books, and anticipated scenario later, but not now. As a mom of two young kids and one high maintenance dog, I’m a sucker for anything that will make my life easier and less filled with clutter. If I had a hard copy of a book, it’d better be reference for writing or filled with coupons for wine, or possibly both.
After packing away this year’s Halloween devil woman costume, rolling up the spider web tights, and detaching the horns from my wavy red wig, I sat on my bed with a sigh wishing I had something different, something quirky to read in keeping with my Halloween spirits. I was a bit weary of my vampires, and I wanted a breath of fresh graveyard air. I was craving something different.
A quick troll on Goodreads led me to my “something different.” Horrostor piqued my interest immediately.
The story itself seemed far from original, but intriguing, nonetheless. What really hooked me was the packaging. Anyone who looks at this book knows immediately what it’s pretending to be, what it’s supposed to look like. We’ve all seen them in our mailbox and on coffee tables in our own homes- an Ikea catalogue. No catalogue looks quite as distinct. The horror story takes place in a store, much like an Ikea. The setting is arguably as important as any of the main players. Night Circus was much the same way: The setting was the story. And, that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s bold. It’s brave, and more importantly, it’s different. The book doesn’t just look like a catalogue when closed and sitting out on a table. No. It reads like one, too. It’s has pictures and advertisements of the fictional store’s products. And, those pictures get progressively creepier as the story does. If you know anything about me, you’re likely asking how long it took me to one-click order. The answer is less time than it took me to write this post.
I love this book, not only for the horror element, the unique format, and the obvious quirkiness of the author, but also for the fact that in spite of my current chaos, I bought the hard copy. It sits on my table, like the catalogue for which I really have no space.
As much as I am an advocate of technology, progress, and anything that makes reading easier for the general public, I still appreciate books as an art form. Horrorstor reminded me of that.
