There’s no accounting for this, but apparently many people in the UK have been getting into quite a lather awaiting the release of the Amazon Kindle. “It’s not fair,” they have whined. “In America, they’ve got the Kindle as well as the Sony Reader. But we’ve only got the Sony Reader! The Kindle’s got a keyboard, you know. You can make notes on it. And you can download books direct to it from Amazon on something called Whispernet — and Amazon has got zillions of titles. When, oh when, oh when will we finally get our Amazon Kindles?”

Well, you suckers, I’ve got one in front of me right now, and I’m not sure what the fuss was about. It is a slim, white, lozenge-shaped object. At present it is in sleep mode and I am not sure whether to wake it up. It’s been in my possession for only a few hours, but that’s quite long enough to discover some of the pluses and minuses of this object.

On the plus side, I was able to download Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall onto it in about two minutes at a cost of $12.26, (£7.50) which is a considerable bargain as well as a technological miracle. On the minus side, I am having to overcome an overwhelming impulse to smash it against the corner of my desk.

Two things are glaringly wrong about the new “international” version of the Kindle. First, it’s not international at all. It is entirely American. It even comes with an American plug on its charger, which annoyed me no end. “What?” I shrieked, when I saw it — and then calmed down when I found there was also a USB connector, so I could charge it through the computer.

But the main problem is that you download books from Amazon.com rather than Amazon.co.uk — and you quickly discover that many titles available for download in the US are not available to UK customers, presumably for copyright reasons. So look up any number of the current US top-sellers — EL Doctorow’s Homer & Langley; the new Dan Brown; Nicholas Sparks’s The Last Song — and, well, forget them again, because you can’t have them.

“No items found” was the stark response I got to most of my happy inspirations for things I’d like to read. Ooh, the new Robert Harris? No items found. The new Lorrie Moore? No items found. If you look up Dan Brown, incidentally, you get only one title, presumably written by a luckless chap of the same name: a book called Communicating Design, which I found ironic in the circumstances.

Because the second and more shocking thing about the Kindle is the design. People who are used to tapping and stroking the screens of their iPhones will hold this Kindle and weep with frustration and disbelief. What is this thing? An Etch A Sketch? You mean I have to press these teeny-weeny dolly keyboard buttons to type something, incredibly s-l-o-w-l-y? You mean this little square navigation knob (which takes the cursor up and down a line at a time, and side to side a word at a time) is the only way of getting round the page? This little square knob might snap off! And here I am all trained up in touchscreen technology. Good heavens, I absolutely demand the right to point and tap.

The arguments for electronic readers in general have been well enough rehearsed in the past few years. Some people cheer about the convenience of having hundreds of books loaded onto a device that weighs the same as a side plate, and often invoke the issue of holidays and baggage allowance; they also point out that if fewer trees have to die for the sake of terrible books, that’s a good thing. But there is opposition. There are those who speak eloquently on the essential bookiness of the book; who like real paper and real printing, and like feeling the spine of a hardback in the palm of their hands.

My main objection to ebook readers, however, is just that I like to see what other people are reading on the bus or the train; how far they’ve got; whether they’re enjoying it. It seems to me that such information needs to be public for the good of us all and I’m sad to think of reading in public places ultimately becoming so private — or even furtive.

Evidently the sale of romantic and erotic titles is much higher in the ebook world than in the printed one, which possibly says it all. Having nothing to hide, however, I never mind people seeing what I’m reading, although this openness does have its downside. I was once in a cafe in Greece reading Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance, and trying not to scream aloud at the unfolding horrors of its characters’ lives, when a woman I’d never met came up to me, saw where I’d got to (three-quarters of the way through), and said, cheerfully: “I’ve just read that. Ooh, it gets worse and worse and worse.”

Back with the Kindle, I am feeling less violent towards it. It has the virtues of lightness and slimness, and the screen display is clear. The memory holds up to 1,500 books, and you get six type sizes to choose from. The ability to add notes to the text you are reading is useful if you are the sort of person who normally reads a book with a pencil, but at the same time it is horribly undermined by the need to master this sodding plastic keyboard designed by an idiot on an off-day.

But the big advance, surely, is the direct connection to 3G wireless, and having calmed down a bit, I think there is something truly wonderful about the idea of the air waves being used to whiz whole books straight into people’s hands without anyone involved in the process having to sell their soul to the devil for the privilege.

By and large, the air waves are full of such awful junk — and I am judging from my own e-mails here — that the idea of large, meaningful texts such as the Hilary Mantel being beamed about is quite consoling. I find myself wondering whether they will ever invent a device that whizzes the books straight into our brains? They are cutting out so many middlemen already (printer, distributor, bookshop), why not cut out the reader as well? I’m a bit surprised nobody has thought of that, quite honestly.

Times Recommends

• Lies and cover-up at MG Rover exposed by report
• High oil prices push manufacturing costs up
• Primark founder steps down as chief executive