WITH PIPE ALIGHT

Southland Times, Issue 18975, 23 June 1923, Page 9 (Supplement)

WITH PIPE ALIGHT

BED BOOKS

(By

“Criticus

Every little while the magazines and newspapers which pose before us as "literary” invite someone to discuss “Bed Books” and on every occasion cue discovers works suitable for reading in bed which previous writers have overlooked. Robert Blatchford went very learnedly into this subject, and became quite punditty on the qualities necessary for the making of a true bedside book. It seems that the book we are to read before dropping off to sleep must not be exciting, must not so disturb the nervous system that sleep cannot find an easy resting place. And then it is essential that the book should not be one which cannot stand interruption, because it. is inevitable that the covers must be closed and the tome put aside when the eyes become heavy and the mind drowsy. A lot of this, of course, is flim-flam, and so we may be quite satisfied that where the fools have rushed in we need not be afraid to follow. There are certain qualities which, of course, must be accepted as virtues in bocks designed for bed reading, and among these is lightness. I could never give my benediction to a book for the bed if it was so heavy that both my hands were required for keeping it raised. In these days, when the temperature is not overhigh the hand which holds the book must of necessity get cold, and it is obviously better to have one hand cold than two. Then, again, a heavy book is tiring and soon causes the hand to sway about, to the convulsive death of one’s attention. There are people who do their bed-reading while reclining on one side, resting the volume on the bedclothes, thus making it possible for both hands to be kept in shelter, others make a desk of a pillow, and this sidereading is, I think, the most comfortable for a long session because the arms are resting and warm. In this way, cne is independent of the weight of the book, but it is necessary that it should be well bound so that the leaves will not go turning over of their own will, and it is equally desirable that the leaves should be cut. Doctors will assure you that reading in bed is not good for the sight, and with them one is inclined to agree, but a goodly proportion of the things that are inimical are exceedingly pleasant, and so why should we not pay our price and enjoy ourselves? Of course, it is desirable that the type should be large and easy to the eye, if one is not to do hurt. These points are not discussed by the literary folk who take up the subject of bedside books, but they are extremely important. Can you imagine anyone enjoying a large two-handed volume of the Encyclopedia Brittanica in bed, when the sleeves of one’s pyjamas insist on sliding back over the elbows, leaving the arms to become goosefleshy ? Can you hope for pleasure with a single-volume Shakespeare in 5A point type, to read which one must strain ? I can’t.

But for what do we want bed books? There are two reasons for reading in bed: because one likes it and one cannot go to sleep. Reading in bed to me is enjoyable, because the house is always quiet and there is nothing but sleep to cry a halt to my pleasure. I would not like to confess to the number of times I have up a book late at night and continued reading until dawn climbed over the window-sill and made my electric light look ridiculous. I can remember, when I was younger and wickeder, stuffing the chinks beneath my bedroom door with paper, or my socks, and reading gloriously by the light of a bicycle lamp hung from the head of the bed, thus circumventing my parents who turned off the household lighting system at its main, or who looked down the passage for the betraying pencil of illumination along the base of the door. In those days I read in bed because it was enjoyable and because I wanted to finish the book I had in my hand. I did not know what bedside books were; I had books to read in bed. Then I had never watched the hours creeping like years through the blackness with insomnia and I had never known what it was to be drowsy when a book was interesting. Sleep was my touchstone in those days: if I felt dyowsy I condemned the book out of hand.

But these bedside books? They have two duties to perform, nay, they have three. In the first place, being at the bedside, they are arrayed for the purpose of revealing one’s character, one’s cultural standards and it is, therefore, necessary that they should be carefully chosen, for they will be seen and discreetly marked. It is necessary that impressive names should appear on these books, that they may inspire in the beholder the opinion that there owner is a reader of “heavy stuff.” Care must be taken that the leaves of these works are cut, because there is nothing so disastrous to a reputation as an uncut book. One or two of the more profund works should be left lying carelessly on the table, as if they were part of the feast of the night before. These are important details. Then these books may be designed for morning reading. Good heavens! Do you read books in the morning? On rare occasions, because one is so frequently called to matutinal tasks; but I can assure you that there are occasions when a book is preferable for morning reading to the newspaper. The third duty of a bedside book is to send one to sleep and that is the easiest task. If one is suffering acutely from insomnia then the best thing to do is to determine to make a night of it and to read something interesting, something exciting without any thought of wooing sleep. But if one desires to take a book as a night-cap then there is an immense field from which to make a choice. If you are fond of light reading take up some abstruse subject, economics or psycho-analysis and the deed is done. A page or two of Karl Marx will bring sleep, and even less of Irving Fisher’s “Stabilising the Dollar.” Some of the modern poets are effective in this service, but best of all, employ this article.