Beach Reading Minus the Beach

Beach reading minus the beach...

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

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