The Power of the Page

I’m not embarrassed.  I’ll be the first to admit it… I’ll take a year to finish a sleepy novel.  Granted, I usually have three to four books rotating on a regular basis, dog-eared-pages waiting in turn. I’ve always felt the need to be “reading something.”  

Yet, on occasion, we come across a book that grabs us, handicaps us, makes us sit in the uncomfortable chair in the kitchen.  The kind of book where the dishes collect in the sink. Lunch is forgotten.  We stay in our stretchy pajamas, ignore our hair and don’t make the trip upstairs to brush our teeth.  The flower beds we plan to weed, remain overgrown.  The porch still needs to be swept, errands still need to be run.

The kind of book that when neighbors pop over and gaze at our hobo-style appearance we say: “Yeah…I look like hell, but I’m reading a great book…can’t put it down.”  

What’s wonderful about confessing to such indulgence is the understanding and appreciative nod as well as a sparked interest into what material would have such an affect as to forget to shower.  

“Must be good…what book?” they inquire.

And although it doesn’t happen very often, reading something that changes our minds for an afternoon, rattles our auto-pilot thinking, hopefully inspires us to not only feel differently about ourselves, but others.  Yes, some books are that good.  Reading good literature is often magical, wrapping our minds in a blanket of intrigue or comfort.  We can forget, momentarily, the world outside our door continues to bump, grind and whirl.

Last weekend, Peyton and I hit a few tag sales.  Anytime I come across boxes of books, I tilt my head and begin reading all the tattered titles.  Much can be said about the type of books people are selling at tag sales.  And although I’m not a huge Katherine Hepburn fan, I came across her biography, “Kate Remembered,” written by A. Scott Berg.  He was authorized by Ms. Hepburn to write it only after her death.  I knew she was a private person, intelligent woman, fiercely independent with a competitive nature.  I thumbed through it, figured it looked interesting.  (And at three books for $2.00, I had nothing to lose.)  

I opened it, and then I couldn’t put it down.  It was tasteful, insightful.  She was a woman who lived by her own rules.  She wasn’t afraid to tell a studio executive to “go to hell” or to engage in a tryst or two.  She firmly negotiated her own contracts while maintaining her femininity.  She knew her worth.  She was a woman in a man’s world,playing by a man’s rules.  Yet, she was smart and confidant enough to take risks.  She found opportunities in most situations, using them to her advantage.  She was a woman ahead of her time.  

“I had to compromise left and right,” Hepburn was quoted in the biography.  “But I was careful to choose my battles. Fight the important ones. The ones I thought I could win. I often lost and was often proved wrong.”  No question – she compromised plenty.  But generally, she stooped only to conquer. 

Regardless of the genre, publication, author or popularity, a good read is simply that.  It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or expensive, crisp or stately.  As long as the message is meaningful, pulls you in, educates and leaves a lasting impression you’ve done well.

So, give yourself permission to blow off an entire Sunday, as I did.  The hell with it…Don’t feel bad about it.  Because tomorrow, the dishes will again be in the sink, the weeds will most certainly return, errands will always need to be run.

But it’s not too often a good book will demand your attention, compromising both your sense of fashion and personal hygiene.