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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