No, it not the same as beach reading on a beach. I have hit a new high, or low, on starting books and not reaching the end. Right now I have three perfectly respectable, well reviewed books on my iPad. Over the weekend I switched back and forth, reading ten pages here and there and never engaging fully. When I couldn’t fall asleep last night I reached for Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie, an oldy but goody that always makes me laugh. I didn’t fall asleep until 2:30 am, but I was smiling.
The problem is the lack of a beach. While listening to waves and seagulls I could relax and read peacefully. I could remember the early days of marriage and identify with the married couple in a contemporary romance. With a beach I would not have the urge to shake them and tell them to grow up. I could appreciate the description of wealth and opulence in an earlier version of New York City. With a beach I would not be tempted to tell the characters to stop being so annoying and entitled and look beyond their small, selfish world. I would feel more compassion for the fictional depictions of great authors and artists at an earlier point in American history in a part of the country due north of here. On a beach I would sympathize with the weight of their lofty thoughts and idealism and resist the urge to tell the main character that morphine is not a good way to treat migraines.
I need a beach. A little more sleep would also be good.
- S. Bakos
- S. Bakos
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