Over the summer I accidentally ordered a large print book from Amazon. I remember posting on Facebook that I may never go back to regular books.
I did go back to regularly printed books, but today I checked out a large print book from the library and wow, I may never go back to regular books.
For the last several years, I’ve been reading less and less for pleasure. I chalked it up to reading too much for the classes I taught and staring at a computer screen all day. I also thought there might be something to just being worn out on fiction as well.
I’m beginning to wonder if it’s just eye strain. Can the average type size be big enough for me to read but small enough to fatigue my eyes quickly?
I’m hoping the answer is yes.
You‘re old—ha ha!
I don’t really care if large print books make me look like a fossil. I did, after all, ask for an AARP membership on my 50th birthday. By the way, AARP The Magazine is very generous with the type size. It’s the comfy equivalent of stretch-waist jeans.
I also don’t know why anyone should feel stigmatized about large print books or any other assistance that makes life more enjoyable. Some people are reluctant to wear a hearing aid, which seems a silly thing to be self-conscious about—your earholes.
When I was a savage child, we were merciless to kids who wore eyeglasses, but to be completely honest, we found something wrong with everybody. It was pretty much “Lord of the Flies” with skateboards and bell bottoms.
If there’s a large print version of “The Goldfinch” by Donna Tartt, I’m going to order it, even though it’s probably 1900 pages. I only hope the book won’t be too heavy to lift. My back ain’t what it used to be.