Perhaps that’s why Jeffrey Toney’s reminiscence of the physical books he loves struck a chord. As Toney notes, art books are ill suited to the Matrix. One of my prized possessions is a copy of Alphonse Mucha: The Spirit of Art Nouveau, a beautiful coffee table compilation of this groundbreaking artist’s work. I remember coveting this book online for weeks, and being shocked upon finding a copy in the Art shelves at Half Price Books for $37. I’ve spent hours pouring over it, both alone and with friends. Someone may, one day, convert this tome into a rockin’ iPad application. But you can’t Kindle or Nook this book. The content is the pictures, not the type.

Digital books are fine for easy storage and search, but they carry no history. I can go on Amazon.com and download Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz for free. (And I have!) That doesn’t compare to when my high school girlfriend Mandy, aware of my fondness for the author, bought me a rare turn-of-the-20th-century print out of an antiques store window in Rochester, New York. Digital media is Teflon-coated against memories. None of us will look back 40 years from now and say to our grandchildren, “Yes, I remember the day I downloaded The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo.”

Maybe digital will make these “real book” moments even more precious. Maybe we’ll find that we treasure the physical books we own more – not merely because they’re rare or beautiful, but because they’re doorways to our histories.

What physical books do you cherish?

(* Actually, Mark said, “You can’t grep dead trees.” I decided to take mercy on the 99.7% of you who wouldn’t get that. You owe me.)