Silicon Valley’s mantra of “move fast and break things” may have been one of the worst slogans in history. In their rush to disrupt everything, our favorite tech bros created products that have managed to fracture society’s foundations: election integrity, truth in media, and our collective ability to focus on anything longer than a TikTok video. And yet now, even as artificial intelligence accelerates this digital demolition derby, the tech industry’s response isn’t to slow down and reflect; it’s to move even faster. That’s why it’s shocking to see Amazon, a company that helps us buy things faster than we ever have before, offer us something refreshingly slow: a Kindle with a color screen.
The Kindle has been around for 17 years. E-readers feel like static, almost antiquated tech—not exactly the shiny, headline-grabbing gadgets we’ve come to expect from the tech world, products that boast tens of thousands of pixels per inch and processors that move at speeds our mere mortal brains can’t comprehend. And yet, the new color Kindle, which consumers have been asking for (even begging for) since 2007, is none of that. Which is what makes it so amazing. I’m not going to do a comprehensive product review, where I get into the weeds of the device itself, but I will say, color on a Kindle wasn’t something I realized I wanted. But now, after using it for a few days, I can’t imagine living without it. I can highlight in color. I can see my book covers. It’s brighter. There’s a new page-turn function that feels like you’re turning an actual paper page. And most importantly, it feels like just that: paper.
But the question is: What took Amazon so long? According to Panos Panay, senior vice president of devices and services at Amazon, the reason we had to wait 17 years for color is because the company wanted to make sure that adding color wouldn’t have taken away from the experience of being on an actual Kindle. In short, Amazon could have easily slapped an LCD screen in a Kindle body to appease users clamoring for color over a decade and a half ago. But that would have taken away from the reading experience, Panay says. Instead, they wanted to develop a color display that wouldn’t compromise what the Kindle is fundamentally about: a reading experience that feels like reading, not like scrolling.
In an interview this week, Panay told me that slowing down was at the core of every decision made about the new color Kindle, which went on sale this week. “Remember what reading is about? It’s about learning and understanding. It’s born for patience. It’s so much different from scrolling with your thumb as fast as you can,” he told me. “You have this sanctuary, or calming effect that comes with reading.” (Panos told me the Kindle team tested dozens and dozens of different displays to find the perfect blend of color with the feel of actual paper.)
What I find so interesting about the Kindle (both color and black-and-white) is that everyone I know—no matter how old they are—has a love-hate relationship with their smartphones. (A lot of people have a hate-hate relationship with theirs.) Those fancy OLED screens and apps and endless notifications are like a black hole of meaningless engagement. But let me ask you a question: Do you know anyone who hates their Kindle? That’s what I thought.
That ethos of slowed-down simplicity has not just struck a chord with old folks, who are overwhelmed living in a world of AI this and AI that, yelling at those pesky kids to get off their digital lawns. Amazon told me that Kindle just had its best sales year in a decade, driven largely by millennials and Gen Z, who are, it seems, also weary of how overwhelmed and shallow most other technology makes them feel. Kevin Keith, vice president of Kindle, told me that the 60% of Kindle sales during this spike were from these younger adults.
I’m not going to lie; part of the reason young readers are buying Kindles may be because of BookTok, the wildly popular corner of TikTok where readers share their latest literary obsessions. And some of the stuff they read makes me cringe—ahem, Colleen Hoover—but here’s the thing: They’re reading. Books. Lots of them. “I think what’s driving BookTok is not just reading generally, but no-distraction reading,” Keith told me in an interview. “People are done with their phones and they want time off those phones. You get lost in all the notifications you’re getting—the beauty here is we have no distractions, no notifications, no social media, just your books, and you get lost in that. And that’s why customers are coming back in droves to Kindle.”
Maybe the human race isn’t doomed after all.
What’s telling is that the Kindle isn’t alone in this counterrevolution against attention-destroying tech. There’s a growing “slow tech” movement gaining momentum: People are buying Light Phones or dumb phones that only make calls and send texts, as well as analog watches that simply do this weird thing called telling the time, and are even returning to film cameras that force you to wait and think before each shot (I just purchased an old film camera for this very reason). These aren’t just hipster affectations or nostalgia plays; they’re life rafts for people drowning in the endless stream of digital shit and the speed with which it’s being thrown at us. Each of these devices shares a common philosophy with the Kindle: Do one thing, and do it well, and get out of the way without trying to hijack your attention for engagement metrics.
The science behind why we’re drawn to these slower, more contemplative devices is fascinating. Research has shown that reading books—whether on paper or e-ink—engages our brains in ways that scrolling through social media simply cannot replicate. When we read long-form narratives, our brains create elaborate neural networks, strengthening pathways associated with empathy, critical thinking, and deep focus. MRI studies have found that networks related to perspective taking and story comprehension remain active for days after we finish a book, like mental echoes of the stories we’ve absorbed.
In stark contrast, the endless scroll of social media feeds triggers what neuroscientists call the “switch cost”—the mental price we pay for constantly shifting attention. Every time we swipe to the next post or story, our brains release a tiny hit of dopamine, training us to crave more quick-hit content while simultaneously eroding our ability to sustain attention. You’ve probably seen all the endless research about how social media has destroyed kids’ lives, with the Surgeon General saying that 46% of kids reported that social media negatively affects their body image. In addition, research found that children and teens who spend over three hours a day on social media face double the risk of experiencing symptoms of depression and anxiety.
