A sanctuary of reading

Like churches during the Middle Ages, books conferred instant sanctuary. Once you entered one, you couldn't be disturbed.

Will Schwalbe, The End of Your Life Book Club

Will Schwalbe

Will Schwalbe, above,  is describing his family's attitude toward reading during his boyhood. It sounds like heaven to me.

Both of his parents were readers, especially on weekends, and didn't like having their own reading disturbed by demanding children. They extended the same respect to those children when they had books in their hands. If there was a chore to be done, it could wait until the end of the book, or at least the end of the chapter. Schwalbe comments that discipline for wrongdoing couldn't be escaped altogether, but it could be postponed as long as you were reading. "But we quickly learned you had to both look and be completely engrossed — just flipping pages didn't count," he adds.

I am suddenly reminded of a cartoon showing a clergyman on his knees praying in his office when his secretary bursts in and says, "Oh good, you're not busy." That was something of the attitude I faced in my own family as I was growing up — and later in my marriage. When I was "only reading," I was considered to be doing nothing and available for service. Of course, considering how often I had a book in my hands, this may have been the only way to get me to do do anything.

Yet now living alone in the twilight of my life, I don't seem to read much more than I did previously. I create my own interruptions — to play a game of spider solitaire, to make a pot of tea, to add a few pieces to a jigsaw puzzle or to find a Sirius station playing a better song. Prolonged reading without interruption still seems like heaven.