Back in the spring I signed up for an account at Audible. I took some convincing to join, because prior to then I’d listened to maybe three or four audio books in my life; and I never felt any desire to listen to any more. After a year’s worth of advertising, the marketing department of Audible finally got the better of me. I’ve been hooked ever since.

Pre-audio, my book habits mainly consisted of fiction, biographies, business and design. As soon as I started listening to audio, my intake of most of those genres increased; and history got added to that list. I did not read less, I just had time to consume more.

I have time for audio books because I never just sit down and listen to them; I’m always doing something else at the same time. Such as drawing. Drawing and audio books go very well together because they don’t distract from each other. In fact, I find drawing helps me to focus on the book more.

Paper books on the other hand, take all my attention. Even if I put music on in the background, I soon zone it out. That means I have much less time for it. It’s great for train journeys and to wind down just before bed, but other than that I have to find the time for it. I do find that time, but it doesn’t come easily.

However, as far as I can tell, time is the only reason I’ve become hooked on audio books. In every other respect, reading is favourable.

But not by much. Being able to control the reading pace wins kudos for paper books. I also find it a bit annoying when I want to research something I’ve heard about in a book, but don’t know how to spell what I’m researching because I’ve only heard the word. Yet, knowing the pronunciation almost counteracts that negative.

Reading is not favourable by much, except that is, for fiction.

I’m currently listening to my first audio fiction book. It’s Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather. Prior to this, I had read 19 other books from the same Discworld series so I know what to expect; and in the audio version I’m not quite getting it.

As great as Nigel Planer’s narration is, there is something very definite that is lost with the book read aloud. The atmosphere, mood and even visual quality of the book diminishes. In most cases, I would struggle to understand exactly where these things qualities dwindle, but one obvious example is the rendition of the character Death.

Readers of Discworld will know that Death speaks in capital letters (or small-caps). For those who don’t, here is a quotation near the beginning of Mort:

   The air took on a thick, greasy feel, and the deep shadows around Mort became edged with blue and purple rainbows. The rider strode towards him, black cloak billowing and feet making little clicking sounds on the cobbles. They were the only noises – silence clamped down on the square like great drifts of cotton wool.
    The impressive effect was rather spoilt by a patch of ice.
    OH, BUGGER.
    It wasn’t exactly a voice. The words were there all right, but they arrived in Mort’s head without bothering to pass through his ears.

How, other than in writing, can you express that kind of voice?