The perfect reading nook exists, I am sure of it. I am confident because I have experienced this nirvana personally. Let me tell you, it feels as if one is supping from the very vessel used during the Last Supper — provided you choose the correct chalice, of course. While many have explored this path before, searching for superiority in literary comfort, and found naught but personal ruin and destruction, the recipe for peak hard- or soft-cover consumption is quite simple. One only needs a plush wingback chair — along with, ideally, a warm fire and a purring cat (or a snoozing dog) nearby.
What, no pipe? Or would that have been a bit much?
Close your ears against this false prophet, friends. This setting is designed to produce naught but narcolepsy. My own counsel would echo that of Lin Yutang — reclining at about a 30-degree angle in bed, propped up on pillows or one of those reading cushions shaped like the top half of a chair. A fire? I’m sorry, am I only allowed to read during the months from November through March? It’s ninety degrees and humid around here; crank up the air conditioning (praise Willis Carrier) and settle back with a book propped on your chest, the way God intended.