Category: Reading

From the archives (1) Bedside Manners

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Bob’s bedside table (an example) Zoom in to see what he’s reading

So I’m visiting John in hospital and it’s just as well I didn’t come the day before, he says, because he was in a world of pain. Knee operations are like that. Hospital rooms evoke all kinds of memories, most of them not very pleasant, even a private room with a TV, telephone and a view of the painless world.

John was telling how his daughter phoned on his world of pain day to see how he was. The phone, on the bedside table, just out of reach, rang and rang. Somebody had moved the bedside table so they could set up the contraption that monitors one’s vitals.

There’s a small fortune to be made for someone who invents and promotes a bedside cabinet suited to the largely bed-ridden. It may well be that someone already owns the patents or has actually produced a prototype. They would go well in hospitals. The standard hospital brand tends to be a metal box on castors, usually with two (lockable) drawers and a cupboard to store your clothes, shoes and toiletries.

What is really needed, if you happen to be supine in bed and unable to roll over and reach out, is a bedside table that will come to you. I’m not an inventor, designer or cabinet maker, but I envisage the patient with a remote control pressing ‘turn left’ and with a barely perceptible whir, the bedside table obediently turns so it is facing the bed. The patient presses ‘rise” and the table rises, until the patient presses ‘stop’. ‘Open top drawer’, and the top drawer slides open, to offer an array of things one might need:  reading glasses, hearing aids, wallet, mobile phone, private medical insurance card.

Those of you quick on the uptake will immediately see the broader commercial opportunities of such a user-friendly bedside table. The home model would have a built in power board for mobile phone, e-reader, MP3 player or whatever gadget you keep in the bedside cabinet that might require recharging. Ahem.

At this stage of musing it is important to note the debunking of the myth that one risks brain cancer by keeping a mobile phone next to the bed.  The ABC’s Catalyst program is under attack for a program this week linking Wi-Fi and mobile phone use with brain cancer. According to the Australian government’s radiation safety agency ARPANSA, there is “no established evidence” that low levels of radiofrequency radiation from these devices cause health effects. The Conversation, an excellent source of analysis by academics and journalists, asked experts for their opinions.

If you search ‘bedside table’ you will find hundreds of designs (and prices) but nearly all follow the basic principle of a night-stand – a vertical cabinet with two or three drawers or two drawers and a cupboard. Once you’re in bed, only the top drawer is easily reachable and of course every time you lean over to look for something, there’s a risk you will knock something off the top (where many of us keep things like books, reading glasses, contact lenses, hearing aids, a glass of water, e-reader, wallet, and so on – not unlike the illustration above.

The smart bedside table would have a tissue dispenser built in to the side (also touch of a button) to free up space on the top of the cabinet. Bedside tables (the typical bedroom suite comes with two), are not designed with age groups in mind.

The 18-35 groups could get by with a wooden chair, on which to place current reading (e.g. Wild, by Cheryl Strayed, The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer, On the Road by Jack Kerouac), and the essential accoutrements of the young and impulsive.

The 36-49 groups used to favour clock radios so they could get up with the lark listening to classic FM. These days it is likely to be a smart phone alarm and an MP3 player programmed to play your early morning playlist. Books may include: The Seven Habits of Highly Successful People by Stephen Povey or conversely, Summer on a Fat Pig Farm by Matthew Evans.

We elders need a lot of space on the table top. There’s the aforementioned hearing aids, a glass of water (to drink), a glass of water (for our teeth), one or even two of those Monday to Sunday prescription boxes so you don’t forget to take what the doctor ordered. There’s often a torch so those of us with cataracts don’t walk into walls or doors.

The over-65 top drawer is likely to contain a plastic folder with five or six prescriptions repeats, boxes of medications, tubes of ointment for various aches and pains and itches, several old watches, cufflinks (who wears cufflinks?), pebbles, feathers and shells collected from the last beach walk, a Swiss army knife, a pedometer with a flat battery, hearing aid batteries, a scattering of coins, a few buttons that ought to be in the button tin, the thumb splint from last time you had a bout of tendonitis, a well out of date asthma puffer, a well-thumbed copy of Meditations for Men Who Do Too Much, five bookmarks and a card with all your pins and passwords disguised as telephone numbers.

How are we doing so far?

The second drawer of your typical bedside table might be the place you keep bulkier objects like a wheat bag (put in microwave for 40 seconds and apply to aching body part), the leather writing compendium a well-meaning friend gave you for your 21st birthday and which you cannot bear to throw away, even though it is a mid-20thst century curio containing five old address books and a Valentine from 1974.

The bottom drawer is where you should keep a pouch containing important personal papers so you can grab it and run if there is a fire.

If your bedside table has a bottom drawer or a cupboard, you could try a psychological experiment:  Every Sunday night, list everything that has happened in the news this week that you don’t want to think about and lock it away.

A year later you can read these 52 pages: Cardinal Pell. Who was he again? Oh, the asylum seeker babies. The Hague ruled on that, didn’t they? Anyway, they all went live in New Zealand.

A cluttered bedside table can be a trigger for allergens. At least once a month you should throw everything on the bed and give the cabinet a jolly good clean. Then put back less stuff. Go on, you can do it – who needs two watches that don’t work, an empty floss container or a tube of Dencorub with a 2009 use by date?

Some of you might wonder why I didn’t write about asylum seeker babies or Tim Minchin’s song about the cardinal, or that proposal by the Australian Chamber of Commerce and Industry – (journalist Paul Syvret called it a ‘brain fart’) – to turn age pension payments into a loan, repayable on the sale of the pensioners’ home.

As you can clearly see, especially if you zoom to 200% and examine the photo above, I had other things on my mind.

 

Book book, read it, read it

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Bob reading “icky stuff” – photo LW

Two days into a five-week pilgrimage to far North Queensland and back, I ran out of suitable reading material. I’d rapidly consumed two of the three crime thrillers acquired for the journey and gave up on the Jonathan Kellerman when the body count reached four in the first dozen pages. She Who Reads Literature meanwhile snaffled the collection of short stories by Annie Proulx I borrowed from the library.

When I discover a new writer, I usually binge-read two or three, which in this case was John Sandford’s series about an unlikely detective, Virgil Flowers. I warmed to Flowers, as he is portrayed warts and all, which in his case is a serious viral outbreak. He lies, bullies suspects, intimidates witnesses, ignores his superiors and, as with all maverick cops, goes about his dodgy investigative business with seeming impunity.

He’s a lanky fellow with long hair and a habit of wearing surfer attire (jeans and rock music themed T-shirts). As with many private eye/rogue detective characters (created by male writers), Virgil thinks he is God’s gift to women. When you consider the outlandish plot of the first Flowers novel, Dark of the Moon, and an ever-rising body count, it’s a wonder Virgil can find time for a hamburger, never mind a woman. When he’s on the trail of drug dealers, psychos, murderers and dog nappers in the State of Minnesota, he sometimes goes days with little sleep. He is a dogged investigator with a dark sense of humour, but so often misses obvious clues you feel like yelling – “Nooo, Virgil – behind you!”

Crime thrillers and spy novels are my preferred genre, although I  delve into literary fiction if I can find a writer who knows how to craft a narrative and invent believable dialogue.

I have read a few books by Annie Proulx, whose recent book Bark Skins has been turned into an online TV series. Kaui Hart Hemmings (The Descendants, The Possibilities), was a revelation. SWRL and I both like Richard Flanagan (although agreeing that Gould’s Book of Fish was impenetrable).

I’ve read everything the superlative Canadian author Michael Crummey has written thus far. His historical fiction is usually set in Newfoundland, so to engage, one ought to have a passing familiarity with the Maritime Provinces. Crummey’s narrative flair, descriptive skills and occasional poetic flourishes keep the reader deeply engaged. Try River Thieves as an example of his fine writing.

In pursuit of a worthwhile holiday read (sans serial killers), I discovered a novel (long-listed for the Booker prize), by UK writer Max Porter, whose brilliant debut, Grief is the Thing with Feathers, won awards. The follow-up, Lanny, was available on Amazon for US$8.99. Armed with less than reliable WiFi in the coastal towns of Agnes Water/Seventeen Seventy, I managed to download it.

Now I can go from here to Cairns (probably via an inland detour), with an unorthodox book which is both intriguing and beautifully written.

SWRL sometimes asks why I read “violent, icky stuff”. I’m not alone. A survey commissioned by the Australia Council found that 49% of participants nominated crime novels as their favourite genre. Next came historical fiction (36%), contemporary literary fiction (33%) and science fiction/fantasy (32%).

The Australia Council partnered with Macquarie University on this  three-year research project: ‘The Australian Book Industry: Authors, Publishers and Readers in a Time of Change’.

The survey revealed that Australians read more than three books per month and spend five hours reading books each week. Frequent readers report reading six books per month and almost eleven hours reading books, with 80% of their reading time devoted to reading for pleasure. Does this sound like you?Another key finding that concurs with my experience is that readers are mixing new digital options with conventional ways of reading.

Australians value locally written books and the Australian book industry. Considering that the dominant genre is crime and mystery fiction, Australian authors stand out in this department. The late Peter Temple turned out nine well plotted thrillers that deservedly won major awards.He is best known for inventing Jack Irish, an accidental investigator, well portrayed in the TV series by Guy Pierce.

Temple has a worthy successor as Australia’s No 1 crime writer in Mornington Peninsula-based author Garry Disher, who has also written non-crime fiction and books for young people. He has a strong view about the crime novel (he has written 20).

He told The Age he believes the reading public is embracing good crime novels because they feed a hunger for engagement with social issues not being met by literary fiction. “Many literary novels are inward-looking or backward-looking,” he says. “They don’t engage with Australia as it is now.”

Interesting that Disher said this in 2008, because in the interim, there’s been an upsurge of interest in Australian ‘noir’. Former journalist Jane Harper’s novel The Dry was a best-seller and has already been adapted for the big screen starring Eric Bana and a cast of familiar faces.

Since today’s missive introduces you to authors you may not know,  66% of readers discover a new book/author by word of mouth recommendations. Browsing in bookstores is still popular, with second-hand outlets the third most popular source. These three methods far outweigh sources of information one might assume to be ranked higher. For example, writers’ festivals (6%) and book clubs (5%) are well down the list.

I took heart from the survey’s finding that just as many people borrow books from a public library as those who buy them. I was forced to delve into the e-reader when public libraries closed in 2020 due to Covid restrictions. Now that the worst has passed (or has it?), let’s quote the epidemiologist who said there is a low risk of contracting Covid when borrowing a library book. By all means wipe the cover, he said, but the virus can only live for a few hours on such a surface. And don’t listen to those who recommend putting library books in the microwave. It will make the pages curl and your microwave will smell funny.

Civica’s 2020 Libraries Index (based on 38 million books borrowed from 90 Australian and New Zealand libraries), revealed that 12 of the top 20 borrowed books were by Australian authors.  Lianne Moriarty’s Nine Perfect Strangers was No 1. Two Jane Harper thrillers were in the top 20, as was Trent Dalton’s disarming Boy Swallows Universe.

Readers borrowed more audio books and e-books following forced closure of libraries. The lockdown also saw the advent of neighbourhood street libraries, just one of the ways in which Covid restrictions led to inclusive community activities.

The social etiquette for street libraries is the same as second-hand book exchanges in caravan parks – take a book and leave one in its place. The caravan park where we are staying for a few days before venturing a little further north has such a collection in the office (they are usually found in the laundry). It’s typical fare, including Janet Evanovich, Tom Clancy, James Patterson, four Jodi Picoult novels and (gasp) a hardback copy of Ian Molly A bio, ‘The never-ending story’.

Sigh, If only I’d had a book to swap.