Somewhere along the way we have confused the love of books with the love of reading. For many dedicated readers it seems infeasible that they might enjoy a book without the dry rustle of paper, or the musty smell of history. The sensory experience and the intellectual experience have become fused. But this need not always be the case. Any reader will tell you that a good book can transport you away from the mundane and the tangible. A great writer can suck you into the world of his or her creation, making you forget your surroundings, and even the book that you hold in your hands. When we admire (and desire) a book as a physical object we’re not admiring the author’s work, or the writing. Often we’re simply admiring the cover design, or the quality of the paper stock, or the typeface. We’re revering the marketing team behind it, or the sense of history in its crackling, yellowed pages – when we should be focusing on the author’s voice.

I’m not suggesting that we should stop loving books, or collecting them. It’s still one of my great pleasures. But let’s not mistake our opinions as book collectors for our opinions as readers. An intelligent, balanced, emotive, transcendent work of literature still retains all those qualities, whether you read it on a page or on a screen. The power of writing lies in the words.