On a rainy Sunday, no matter the length of my to-do list, I feel it is my inarguable duty to curl up on a couch, open a book and hide from the world. This past Sunday I took my duty to extreme measures and read a book from cover to cover, the first time I had done so in quite some time. By the end I felt accomplished and pleasantly, if not strangely, exhausted. Reading will never lose its hold over me – I’m a proud addict.
You see, I have bunny ears. Not on my head, but on my television. They bring me four channels and sometimes, randomly, a fifth. I’m not big into television. I was raised on books and, even though I easily get sucked in when a television is in front of me, I usually stick with what’s gotten me this far. Having chosen a profession in writing, I figure it doesn’t hurt to learn how to write. Reading is essential for that.
So on Sunday I sprawled out, book in hand, on a beat-up couch that was recently delivered to me by college buddies who had to choose between burning the warped piece of furniture or pawning it off on somebody. I believe they made the correct decision, as it now sits on my back covered porch and, while not disrupting the furniture setup inside the house, provides a soft resting place where I can either feel the sun or smell the rain, depending on what the sky offers me.
I was reading The Last Picture Show by Larry McMurtry, the author of Lonesome Dove. It is an engrossing, easy-reading little novel that examines the often twisted social life of a tiny Texas town in the 1950s. It was made into an award-winning movie with Jeff Bridges, which I haven’t seen. For nearly an entire day, from the comfort of my back porch, I lived in Thalia, Texas, or perhaps inside McMurtry’s mind. Either way you look at it, it was a fine place to be.
Despite my reading affliction, which I have carried for all of my literate life, I still am not a fast reader, making Sunday’s achievement that much more of a milestone. I’m methodical and obsessive, dwelling on grammatical errors and typos, flipping back through previous pages to make sure I fully understand the subtle intricacies of characters and taking breaks to absorb it all.
Books are books and I don’t generally discriminate between fiction or non-fiction. It really depends on my mood. But after years of working through dense and often painfully dry historical texts, some in Spanish, I tend to lean toward fiction at this point of my post-college life. Not to mention, it’s a nice break from the constant stream of news flooding my brain. So for me, and I’m sure for many others, a rainy Sunday need not be depressing. In fact, it can open up whole new worlds.
Stay Connected with the Daily Roundup.
Sign up for our newsletter and get the best of the Beacon delivered every day to your inbox.