Yesterday I accidentally spent more than $100 on audiobooks. I took Audible up on a special offer of credits toward books, but kept getting an error message when I purchased it, so I ended up making the purchase three times. I could ask for two-thirds of my money back, but I’m just as happy to have the books.
Audiobooks have been a huge revelation to me. I first listened to them back when they were on cassette tapes, probably in the 90s, but usually just when I was on a roadtrip. The ease and convenience of mp3s made them more appealing. But as regular readers know, the real turning point for me was realizing that audiobooks could be a way to deal with being a slow reader — slow almost to the point of disability.
The other big realization was that I could multitask while listening to audiobooks. I could listen not just while driving, but while mowing, doing yardwork, painting, doing crafts, taking a bath — and virtually everything else.
I have always been a miserable housekeeper. I would clean the house, say, every six months, or when it got so disgusting I couldn’t stand it, or when guests were expected. But there was something about moving into a brand-new house last year that made me want to keep it clean, so after 26 years of marriage, I became a wife who gives the house a good cleaning once a week. Some “cleaning days” I wake up feeling like I don’t really want to clean, but then I remember I can “read” while I clean and look forward to it.
My listening device of choice is my iPad. In some situations, like driving or bathing, I can just sit the iPad in one spot and listen. (Funny story — I had had the iPad for about four months before I realized it had external speakers.) If I’m in a situation where I’m moving around a lot or making noise (vacuuming, mowing, sanding), I put my iPad into a small backpack and carry it around with me listening through headphones.
Because of this multitasking aspect, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing as I experienced each book. Elizabeth Edwards’ Resilience? Cleaning up brush and stumps on a ridge on our property. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo? Painting siding to go on the house. Steve Martin’s Object of Beauty? Rototilling our vegetable garden. And so on.
A similar theme emerges from Audible’s recent solicitation of customer listening stories. The collection of stories is an obvious ploy to promote the books customers talk about in their stories, but it’s also interesting to see that, like me, people associate books with what they were doing while listening to them,
The stories listeners tell about their experience tend to spring from the fact that they were multitasking, like this one:
I was so engrossed in the story that (I’m embarrassed to say) for three days in a row…I completely missed my exit on the way to work. It didn’t end there. I also had “driveway moments” where I would sit in the driveway listening until I came to a good stopping spot. My husband came out the first time thinking something was wrong. When I told him what I was doing he just laughed at me and said, “You know you can bring it inside don’t you?”
Some stories relate to the extraordinary quality of the narration of audiobooks. I can only wonder if I would have found some of the books I’ve experienced on audio nearly as good as I did had it not been for the incredible richness that narrators brought to the book. Similarly, some books are ruined by poor narrators, though those are rare. Here’s a listener story about one of the terrific narrators:
I started listening to the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon (read by Davina Porter) about a year and a half ago. Every morning after putting my children on the bus for school, I would put on my running shoes and my iPod and go for a long walk while listening to Ms. Porter’s fabulous narration of these riveting and beautifully-written novels. I found myself so addicted to the books that I would make time to walk every day, regardless of the weather, and I became positively obsessive about not letting anything interfere with my daily read/walk. I found myself extending my walks just so I could continue listening. I wept, worried, gasped, and often laughed out loud while I was walking, drawing.
I love reading books in print just as much — even if they take me forever — but I can’t tell you where I was or what I was doing while reading most hard-copy books.
Entry by Kathy Hansen. Learn more.