I received four books this past Christmas. They are sitting on the table next to my recliner, next to the two unfinished ones I received the previous Christmas. Okay, so, I’m a slow reader.
I like to read but after 20 minutes, I am sound asleep. Zonked. Out like a light.
I prefer nonfiction. Not those how-to books or cookbooks or “Computers for Dummies,” though I did finish that one. I’m beginning to wonder if I should start reading action-adventure novels. I hate action-adventure novels.
I have reread so many books I’ve lost count. By the time I pick up a book again, I have forgotten what it was about and have to start over from the beginning. That’s when I realized I didn’t like the book in the first place. When my bride and I retired and downsized to a smaller house, we gave away over 700 books. Probably about half were unfinished … by me. I’d like to know how they ended.
I like the feel of a good book. I like turning the pages. I like the smell. I like to use the dust jacket folded over as a bookmark, but when I wake up it has slipped out, and I have no idea where I was. I must start over again, and it becomes a vicious circle of reading, dozing, reading … well, you know.
I bought one of those e-book readers. I thought having a bright light shining in my face constantly might keep me awake. It worked for a while. I managed to stay awake long enough to actually finish a book or two, but I soon realized that it was much too easy to just slide my finger across the screen and within a few seconds a new one would magically appear, 20 bucks instantly vanishing into cyberspace (I learned that word in the “Computers for Dummies” book.) Borrowing a book from a library is better, but I can never seem to finish it by the time it has to be returned.
Our son was a good reader when he was young. Still is. He taught himself how to read by about four years of age. By the time he was eight or nine, he had read all the classics, “Treasure Island,” “Last of the Mohegans,” “Tom Sawyer.” One time we peeked into his room after bedtime, and we could see the glow of a flashlight under his bedcovers. He was reading “Oliver Twist.” Books didn’t put him asleep. He even read “Moby Dick.” I fell asleep on that by the end of the first chapter.
I misspent much of my youth in our town library pretending to do homework. Occasionally, though, I’d have to finger the card catalogue, searching for something for a school book report and run across an interesting title that looked worth reading. I’d end up finishing the book but not the book report. I must have picked up my love of books nestled amongst those stacks.
My son gave me a book this Christmas that is so big and heavy, 827 pages and 5 pounds. The type is so tiny that I will need a magnifying glass. I’ll be sure to put one on next year’s Christmas list. I think I’ll put that book at the bottom of the pile. By the time I get to read it, I’ll be so old and unable to see the type I’ll have an excuse not to read it. If my son asks if I read it, I’ll say “It was heavy reading, man.” (Is that too ’70s?)
My New Year’s resolution is to finish all of these books on the table next to my recliner and the dozens of others on the shelves in the den.
I read somewhere that if you read before you fall asleep you wake up smarter. Boy, I must be really smart. George R.R. Martin the novelist said, “Sleep is good … books are better.” I’ll let you know if that’s true if I can ever finish one.
Editor’s note: Mattapoisett resident Dick Morgado is an artist and retired newspaper columnist whose musings are, after some years, back in The Wanderer under the subtitle “Thoughts on ….” Morgado’s opinions have also appeared for many years in daily newspapers around Boston.
By Dick Morgado