For My Reading Pleasure

I recently read Wallace Stegner’s Angle of Repose and John Daniel’s Rogue River Journal. With each book, I reveled in the evocative prose, enjoyed the lilt and lyricism; I delighted in the authors’ ability to draw me into the lives and landscapes using only the written word. What amazing talent!

Neither book was read via an electronic book (such as Kindle). That is just not the way I want to read my books.

There’s something calming in the tactile process of turning the pages. My mind is restful, open and ready to receive the unfolding story. When it’s time to put my reading aside, that act of placing a bookmark and closing the cover reminds me of the way I feel when I say “S’long” to a friend and close the door: I know we’ll meet again.

Rather than read news online, I subscribe to a daily newspaper. I enjoy that morning ritual of getting the coffee started, opening the front door to a new day, stooping down to retrieve the paper, cocooned in its plastic wrap. As I settle into my “reading chair,” that fresh cup of coffee and waiting newspaper help welcome the beginning of my day.

Even when I worked full time and had a home and family to care for, I made time for this morning ritual. True, I didn’t always get to the paper first thing; the “morning” ritual sometimes became a “mid-morning” event. There were other priorities in those days.

One afternoon not long ago as my nine-year-old grandson and I were walking in town, he popped out with “Reading is a kind of power, isn’t it?” He didn’t break his stride, didn’t look up at me as he said this. Of course, I agreed with him but mostly just let the observation hang in the air.

There was a sense of purity, clarity, epiphany about his rhetorical question and it didn’t call for any discussion. He had made a connection and his book-loving, word-enjoying grandmother was very, very pleased.