On the Where of Reading

I love this. You brought back memories of my own childhood reading. We had a small bookshelf, and frequent trips to the public library. I also stewarded a few decades worth of National Geographics in my room. I often read sitting by them, on the shag carpet, hunched over, with one of the leather-bound volumes opening up the world to me.\r

These are wonderful thoughts to play with right now, thinking about how to arrange my new reading/writing spaces. I look forward to watching the conversation ripple. (Your rafting sounds dreamy.)\r

Thanks for a wonder-full post.

i generally read in 3 places: the bathroom, on the toilet (where my father kept porn, i keep poetry); the train, to and from work if i'm not too drowsy; and, my bed, which is probably the best place on earth (according to my wife). \r

i don't take notes when i'm reading on the toilet, but i do dog ear pages that strike me as being particulary up my dark little alley, worthy of a return trip that may or may not materialize. in other words, i'm always planning something, and planning is important because it means i still believe i have a future, which provides me with a certain bump in the quality of my life, an edge to lean on--an edge that won't bleed me to death. \r

i don't take notes on a computer/laptop--ever. i still enjoy picking up a pen and pulling out a notebook. i currently keep a black notebook in my black bag on the train, and i also keep a purple notebook in the nightstand. eventually, the notebook colors will change when they are filled with lines, fragments, and the rare quote or two. i remain rooted in the grand tradition of the rectangular object filled with white paper and baby blue horizontal lines. \r

occasionally, i will also read at the kitchen table; usually when i'm beginning an evening of drinking and some soft music. i will read at the table until i've had enough liquor and feel like dancing to some very loud music, much to the chagrin of my daughter who is probably trying to watch some very sedate disney show. being a highly competitive sort, she will try to out volume the stereo with the television's surround sound system, but that works about as much as her trying to out volume me, especially when i'm drunk.

There aren't very many good books out there so it's usually not a problem, but I try to avoid reading in the library, because any time I come across a good book I turn into a GIANT DUNGENESS CRAB.

On a lighter note, I might have had modernist fantasies as some of these folks did. \r

http://unhappyhipsters.com/\r

Very funny.

very funny, indeed!\r

unlike mabool, i find there to be no end of good books (perhaps i say "great" where s/he says "good"?) and thus have developed the capacity to read absolutely anywhere. i can tune out neighbor noise, coffee-shop conversation, train station announcements, subway din, people shrieking in the pool. i can read while walking (and without stepping in the path of cars), though i have learned this marks you as a total geek.\r

airplanes are not my reading utopia -- but reading on planes is a fabulous defense against polite chit-chat and captive audience horror.\r

i like to read in a comfy chair, with something good to drink at hand. i like to read while i'm eating, if i'm eating alone. i never read books at a desk, but i read on-screen at my desk all the time. this used to be painful, before i got a good desk chair; now, i can read on-screen without thinking so much about my body. i read your post at my desk, sina, and enjoyed every minute of it.

Sina, thank you -- I wish I could find the quote from Bergson in Memory and Matter (or possibly Matter and Memory...I always get hem mixed up) about reading and memory/reverie. How reading opens us to our own "time," which is writing. So your question is somatic in the deepest sense. Let's see. I used to hide behind the long red velvet curtains in the back room at 38 Eastcote Road, which my parents bought (along with an ornate chandelier) in a random, excessive attempt to be more English, my knees tucked up to my chest, in a salwar chemise and legwarmers, to read D.H. Lawrence. I was 14, for example, when, on a warm day, my father ripped the curtains back from the French window that opened to the back garden, and tore "Lady Chatterley's Lover" from my hands. The memory of fashion accompanies the memory of reading.

A most enjoyable series of reveries. We've gone from Sina drifting in a (pink tubular) Twain-esque reverie to D.H. Lawrence behind red velvet. Thanks for the journey, folks. I like Mabool's Giant Dungeness Crab. A pair of ragged claws topped with avid eyes. Myself, I'm more with S.J.Lemon here - notebooks everywhere, bookmarks jamming them, dogeared favourites strategically scattered across my potential roaming. The only difference there is that I do indeed write in the bathroom, shamelessly. Think of that when you're old and grey and requesting permission to handle my sainted, archived moleskines and ringbinds.\r
P.

It's interesting how intense the memory of reading is, and personal, even though we are often reading with such intensity in places such as airplanes and subways. I used to take note of the books and people reading them on the A train in particular--it was fascinating. \r

Love the image of your father snatching away the DH Lawrence. I was thinking of Bachelard, but yes Bergson too.

Your raft-reading sounds fantastic.\r

For years I tried to read on my daily train commute. I would sit on the upper deck of the train, where there were two columns of single seats separated by a wide gap overlooking the lower level. I thought the semi-privacy of this arrangement would foster my absorption in the book, but actually I found myself fidgeting a lot, looking up constantly, getting distracted by the movements of fellow riders across the gap, or by the yawning gap itself. Nowadays I do my best reading on a crowded subway, the more crowded and noisy the better. My concentration seems to increase in direct proportion to the number and proximity of other riders, the effort required to simultaneously resist and accept the crush of collective public intimacy.\r

Though whenever possible, my favorite reading position is semi-recumbent in bed, trapped beneath the goodly weight of two or three furred animals.

my boy is 1+1/2, i let him turn the pages. he's not very patient so we only read poetry.\r
read walden at walden pond.\r
don't drink when you read, or you'll have to excuse yourself.\r
against a tree is a good place to read in the city. sittingon a chair while reading seems to ruin it, there are always better, dirtier places to sit.

Habits change, too. I used to read in cafes, now I simply can't do it...can't really write in them either.

Sina, I also can't, though I had a whole mythology connected to the writing in the cafe. Why do you think you can't, yourself, anymore?

Good question. Is it age? The fact that I have a room of my own now and an office of my own and spend so much time writing? When I'm out I want to be out...and I would rather be moving than sitting in a cafe. Don't spend too much time in cafes period. I walk. I walk and walk and walk then I go home and write. I write, I walk, I write I walk.

Best place: Back right-corner seat facing the front in an old city bus at night. Legs curled, feet on backpack, shoulder crushed into the window, rain beading and flicking against the steamed glass. Book on knees. When we hit the highway, the driver extinguishes all of the forward lights, and the few passengers who aren't sleeping bump awkward hands in the dark to turn on the seat-lamps. Four of us remain illuminated in the back, silent under fluorescent panels, reading. Half an hour in a constant metal shudder through Ladner and along Mud Bay, rain sliver-shadows under the fingers and orange streetlamps to the side, painted lines and pages keeping time until we have to get off. \r

The in-between places with built-in humming: airport security lineups, ubiquitous chain cafes, food courts, Metro platforms, laundromats. Sofas in front of elevators. \r

I may change my mind about the best place if I ever buy a couch.

"read walden at walden pond" very nice. \r

It's true, having a comfortable chair and couch in my office makes it difficult to think of reading elsewhere...but definitely appreciate the "in between places with built-in humming" the humming is very good.