I admit it. I love my Amazon Kindle.

Yes, I'm anti-DRM and I've never been interested in ebooks before. I used the argument of wanting to enjoy books -- you know, books. Those things you can take into the tub or dog-ear or hand to a good friend and not be too broken-hearted if you don't get it back because you're only out five to ten bucks.

I once got in trouble with my mother for bringing too many books on vacation. I'd filled a garbage bag full of paperbacks. If I'm caught waiting somewhere without a book, I feel naked and bored. I love books.

So when I got the Kindle as an unexpected birthday present, I didn't know what to think. I tried it out and it turns out I loved it. I won't go into all the awesomeness about it, (you can read reviews here and here), as this is not a Kindle review. This is an article talking about a very unexpected problem with the Kindle.

"Ooo, you got a Kindle? Can I see it?" people ask. And I balk. You see, in my house, we have different book shelves. We try to keep the scifi together. The mystery, the horror, nonfiction, reference, graphic novels, collectibles... each genre is roughly segregated. If you were to stroll around our house looking at our books, you would see what we chose for you to see.

And because it's not really kosher to stroll around the more private areas of people's houses to look at their books, you won't see what we don't want you to see.

Yes. I like porn. Pr0n. Erotica.

I loves me a good fuck book.

Now, I'm betting most of you aren't gasping. I write for SuicideGirls, and you're reading SuicideGirls. That's why I feel comfortable telling just you. The others, they may not understand.

My daughter's best friend's father, for instance. He may not understand. But he wanted to see my Kindle too. Which means he could see all the books I have on my Kindle. I specifically showed him the ability to go to the Amazon store...which then showed him my recommendations based on what I'd purchased.

"We're recommending THIS dirty book for you because you liked THAT dirty book!"

Oops.

If you look on my device, you can see my monthly Kindle subscription to Asimov's. You can see I just bought Soon I Will Be Invincible by Austin Grossman. I am reading several books by one of my heroes, Lawrence Lessig. I'm doing research into PG Wodehouse, who was a major influence of Connie Willis, who has in turn been a huge influence of me. I have a book on quilting, in case I want to pick up that hobby. (Yeah, I read fuck books and I do crafts. I have layers.) I have books to help research my latest novel, and I have the latest novel itself in doc form.

I have John Scalzi, Tobias Buckell, Benjamin Rosenbaum, and Haruki Murakami on my Kindle. I have friends' novels on my Kindle to review and give them comments.

And yes. I have some dirty books.

If you are eager to see my new Kindle, you will learn things about me that I may not want you to know. Like I'm a fan of anthologies edited by Alison Tyler. And I like Christmas erotica.

Heck, if you know the Kindle's interface you can figure out how far along I am in my books just by glancing at my book shelf. Then you might find the embarrassing fact that I just might be farther along in some pr0n than I am in Lessig's works.

One blessing is that you can manually delete things from the Kindle, which is what I did before I showed it off to some family this past holiday season. Of course, from what I can tell, if the Kindle has room for it, it will automatically download the books you've purchased from Amazon but it doesn't detect on the Kindle anymore. I can't figure out how to stop that besides turning off the WiFi.

The thought of deleting all my erotica every time someone wants to see my Kindle seems clumsy and silly. And honestly more work than I'm willing to do. Also, it would seem awkward if I struggle with the UI every time someone just wants to see a toy that logically you should just hand over.

Should I own my interest in the books where the secretary is tied up as a Christmas present for her boss? Should I confidently hand over the Kindle when someone asks, with a, "you asked for it!" look on my face? Or should I continue to pretend to be a productive member of Puritan society? No sex books for me, thanks. Not on my shiny, ironically pure white ebook reader.

Or I could just stop reading erotica.

Naaaaaah...


Mur Lafferty is an author and podcaster who recently released her first novel, Playing For Keeps. She Speaks Geek every month on SuicideGirls.com. Click HERE for more of Mur's musings.