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The World of Bed and Books

by

Lauren Roberts

Reading in bed is a special kind of activity. Though I read in bed even as a child, this delightful pastime  has come to mean a lot more to me now. I suppose it is one of those things—like a cup of hot cocoa, the Sunday newspaper and companionable silence—that require maturity to really appreciate.

I read everywhere: on backpacking trips, at the beach, in restaurants, even at parties where I have been found perusing my host’s shelves. (I met one of my good friends by doing that, having been taken to a party at her home by a mutual friend and finding her shelves irresistible.) But my special reading time—the one I am most protective of—comes at night, in bed. The emotional nourishment I receive from the soothing silence of the bedroom and the comfort of  my bed relax me in a way that nothing else can. Whatever stresses the day held melt away; this time and place belong solely to me.

But for me, reading in bed means more than just grabbing a volume from a shelf and climbing onto my mattress. There are rituals that must be observed, little habits that have evolved over time into a particular way of getting ready to read in bed.

We all have a few of these personalized customs—unique ways of carrying out small pieces of our lives that bring comfort in their routines. They keep us feeling on track, in balance, and give us the ability to handle crises because they support our personal foothold in life. Simply put, we’d go crazy without them.    
    
My favorite pre-sleep reading ritual starts long before I open the book. I begin with the bed. Taking hold of one corner of the fitted sheet, I remove it from the mattress and give it several hearty shakes. Then I stretch it out again in a smooth, unwrinkled layer, smoothing it repeatedly until the sheen of the cotton is as fresh-looking as if it just emerged from the dryer.

Next I firmly grab, in sequence, the top sheet and the comforter snapping each of them up and down several times, watching them undulate like waves enveloping the mattress. (My cats love this part, and usually attempt to “help” as much as they can by burrowing deep under each layer as it falls.) Regardless of how tired or cranky I feel, watching the sheets and the cats interact makes me laugh. I begin to feel “my” world overtaking the outside world. Tension falls from my body.  

I return to the living room to bring in one oversized pillow, and position it at an angle so that the bottom portion leans away from the headboard to provide support for my lower back. Next, I lay my reading glasses, a pencil for the marginalia I like to write in my books, and bottled water on the nightstand. But no radio or music or television (my home is television-free). I like peaceful silence.

Selecting my book is the final part of the process. It is also the most crucial. Bedtime reading, being special, requires an equally special book. Deciding what to read is the most difficult part because I love every book I own, and I own more than a thousand. I’ve read less than three-quarters of them so I don’t lack choices, but not every book will feel right. The soothing feel of the bed, the sense of timelessness and the tranquil mood require that my choice be neither too painful nor too funny; it must impart thoughtfulness without harshness, readability without pomposity, depth without depression.

How do I know which books are right for this time and which are wrong? I don’t, not really. That’s why I browse my shelves most evenings. I do know there are a few that will never be right for this time however much I love them.

This morning I made a quick trip to Chaucer’s, our local independent to pick up “just one small book.” Not surprisingly to friends who know me I came home with five. (And I had to force myself to stop at that number.) What’s interesting is that despite vast differences—their subject matters and approaches range from serious to rollicking—all are perfect bedtime reading:

Good-bye to the Mermaids: A Childhood Lost in Hitler’s Berlin by Karin Finell
Sin in the Second City: Madams, Ministers, Playboys and the Battle for America’s Soul by Karen Abbott
Heirlooms: Letters From a Peach Farmer by David Mas Masumoto
Chosen by a Horse: How a broken horse fixed a broken heart by Susan Richards
Once as it was by Griselda Jackson Ohannessian

Like many readers, I have more than one book going at the same time. So today I began Once as it was—an unusual memoir that has me solidly hooked—even as I finish up The Worst Hard Time and The River of Doubt (both also great bedtime reading companions).

With my selected book, I return to the bed, turn off all lights except my reading lamp, and invite the cats up. I watch each choose her favorite spot—Amara on my right side, Athena in between my legs and Aphrodite to the bottom left. Then I pick up my book. Sometimes I can read for only ten minutes; other times for a couple of hours. It is when my eyes start to cross and the words become blurred that I know my reading time has come to an end. I close the book, turn off the light and as I snuggle into that pleasant state of near-slumber, my mind drifts, mixing remembered snatches of that day’s conversations, the delight of shared laughs, the satisfaction of solved problems and most of all, the memorable prose that mingles with my own thoughts. Sometimes it all blends easily, a smooth homogenization of life and literature that goes down easily. At other times the mixture, like oil and water, never really gets together. But in all cases something solid results—my life changes, my mind stretches, and I have a feeling that I am different for the words read. Sleep, after such a feast, comes easily.


Almost since her childhood days of Mother Goose, Lauren has been giving her opinion on books to anyone who will listen. That “talent” eventually took her out of magazine writing and into book reviewing in 2000 for an online review site where she cut her teeth (as well as a few authors). Stints as book editor for her local newspaper and contributing editor to Booklist and Bookmarks magazines has reinforced her belief that she has interesting things to say about books. Lauren shares her home with several significant others including three cats, 800 bookmarks and approximately 1,000 books that, whether previously read or not, constitute her to-be-read stack. She is a member of the National Books Critics Circle (NBCC) and Book Publicists of Southern California as well as a longtime book design judge for Publishers Marketing Association’s Benjamin Franklin Awards. You can reach her at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

 
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