Bubby packin' books -- a gift he LOVED from my friend Debbie.

But the book industry is flailing. And that worries me. Mostly because I love books, my girls love books, and Bubby loves books.

(Full disclosure: It also worries me because I've got one of my books submitted to a few agents and the industry can't -- simply CAN'T -- wither down to nothing before I get one or two or ten published!)

The impetus for today's worry is information I received in a newsletter I'm subscribed to from a site called Shelf Awareness that focuses on the book industry. Here's the scary news I got yesterday (quoted directly from Shelf Awareness):

Net book sales in 2009 in the U.S. fell 1.8%, to $23.95 billion, according to estimates by the Association of American Publishers based on sales data from 86 publishers as well as on data from the Bureau of the Census. In the last seven years, the book business has had a compound annual growth rate of 1.1%.

Sure, there are still millions and billions of books still being sold, but the number is decreasing. And at the rate at which it's decreasing, will Bubby have books readily available when he's an adult? Will he be able to pass them down to his grandchildren? Will the ones I've given him -- and will continue to give him -- become relics of days gone by?

That el-hi number? Those are textbooks, the books kids use in school. To think schoolbooks are decreasing at such a crazy rate is absolutely frightening.

And that number for Children's/YA hardcover? Aack! Picture books are my forte; picture books are Bubby's best friend. What's up with that?

People are still reading, obviously. The adult hardcover and higher ed numbers are encouraging. And readers are obviously snagging up those e-books like there's no tomorrow. Now I'm a fan of technology and all, but I'm a bigger fan of books -- real, live, turn the page by hand, fall asleep with it on your lap and worry about scrunching the pages books.

I'm sure books will never completely disappear. There are too many people who believe as I do that books not only fill out one's time and mind marvelously, they also fill out one's room quite nicely. You can't line the walls of the study with Kindles and Nooks.

Well, you could, but how ugly -- and expensive -- would that be?

You might as well just buy books.

Today's question:

If you were to buy any book today, what would it be?

My answer: I'd buy "The Quiet Book" by Deborah Underwood for Bubby and "Divisadero" by Michael Ondaatje for myself.

I recently received a press release for a new book on being a grandma. The book is titled "Eye of My Heart: 27 Writers Reveal the Hidden Pleasures and Perils of Being a Grandmother."

Believe it or not -- and those of you who know me and my book obsession well won't believe it -- but I have very few books about being a grandma. In fact, I have only one: "Long-Distance Grandma" by Janet Teitsort, and it's a holdover from my editing days when packages of books for review came across my desk.

I think the main reason I don't have any is because books about grandmas always look like they've been written for, by and about grandmas the age of MY grandma, not grandmas who look and act like me.

But because I'm a grandma AND a writer, the press release for "Eye of My Heart" piqued my interest and I went to the publisher's website to learn more. An abridged (by me) version of the book description from Harper Collins says:

In Eye of My Heart, twenty-seven smart, gutsy writers explode myths and stereotypes and tell the whole crazy, complicated truth about being a grandmother in today's world. Among the contributors:

Anne Roiphe learns—the hard way—to keep her mouth shut and her opinions to herself.

Elizabeth Berg marvels at witnessing her child give birth to her child.

Beverly Donofrio makes amends for her shortcomings as a teenage mother.

Jill Nelson grapples with mother-daughter tensions triggered by the birth of her grandson.

Judith Guest confesses her failed attempt to emulate her own saintly grandmother.

Sallie Tisdale pays a high price—financially and emotionally—for her fast-growing brood of grandkids.

Susan Shreve finally accepts that she's the grandmother, not the mother.

Abigail Thomas plots her escape when she can't bear to bake one more cake.

Mary Pipher explores the primal role of grandmothers in a fast-changing world.

In this groundbreaking collection, you will encounter the real stories that usually go untold. Free of platitudes and clichés, the essays in Eye of My Heart are linked by a common thread: a love for grandchildren that knows no bounds, despite inescapable obstacles and limitations.

These are my kind of grandmas, my kind of essays. Keywords that made this a must-have book for me: "real stories that usually go untold," "free of platitudes and cliches." Seems that everything related to being a grandmother, whether it's books or coffee mug sayings or silly T-shirts are cliched and platitude-ridden -- and rather nauseating, in my opinion. I want REAL stories by REAL grandmas who aren't afraid to say what it's REALLY like when your child has children. It can't all be sweet and rosy and chicken soup for the soul. No relationships are, and being honest about that makes the bond between loved ones stronger than those built on mushy-gushy superficial sweetness.

So I headed to Amazon.com, purchased the book, then perused the "Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought" suggestions ... and it only confirmed my lament that few candid books on grandparenting exist. A sampling of the cliches and platitudes (title and author not revealed because I'm sure they're very nice women with good intentions):

"Words of advice to 'accidentally' leave on a daughter-in-law's kitchen table."

"Read and re-read -- then joyfully live out -- a devoted grandma rabbit's fun-filled, love-inspired book of promises."

"It will make you laugh, it will make you cry...it will make you want to run out and buy something nice for your grandchild!"

Gag me! And get me my copy of "Eye of My Heart" quick!