One of the singular pleasures of my life is laying up in bed with the lamp on, reading a book.
I’ll read anywhere I’m put.
But my first instinct when I have a book in my hand is to get horizontal— floor, bed, couch— any flat surface will do me.
I’ll even take a bench if that’s all there is, and I’ll tuck my elbow behind my ear to keep from getting one of those hard bench headaches.
Two or three days ago, I found myself horizontal and sideways on the bed and reading— with a stomachache. I pulled up my knees and yanked up the sheets. One hand absently rested above my abdomen.
The book on the bed that day was Flannery O’Connor’s Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose.
I don’t know what you’ve read by O’Connor, but she’s an American writer from the South— one of …. Read on, Reader!