There are truths that deepen over time, or at least our understanding of them deepens. And by “our” we don’t mean the collective “our.” We mean us, Jason and Vanessa. One of the truths that has deepened for us in the past year is how much reading is a quiet rebellion, how much it is, like invisible disabilities (something Jason knows a lot about) a nearly undetectable, yet exceptionally altering thing. Now, despite recent emails, we are making the promise not to become one of THOSE shops, those shops that, after gaining your trust and friendship, spam you with political bullshit every week. Will will not suddenly start LARPING activism. But we will, broadly speaking, point out some truths, not universal but effectively poetic, that hopefully simmer beneath the civic bustle of our lives.
One of these is the quiet rebellion of reading.
Picture this past week at the Brown/Dickson household. Jason is in the study. The socials are in full swing through the devices of his beloved and family. TikTok videos are blaring. A podcast of shrill hosts spatter half-baked improv. And one of his little ‘uns parrots an endless Youtube commentary on the many faults and controversies brewing in the messy world of Roblox. Now, Jason is not a Luddite. He is the person EVERYONE CALLS when there is a technical issue/emergency in the house. It’s just that, for this moment, he needs a little quiet, and through the years he has, against all odds and offenses, carved out a small 200 square foot office space in the front room.
Note for legal reasons: for the record, this is a space shared by his beloved, a space where, through extraordinary work and creative-genius, she wrote one of Canada’s classic works of true crime. Okay?
Jason hold in his hands a book by Alfred Jarry. It’s one he’s been itching to read for months. There were other books in his pile that he had to sequentially complete because this is just how things work, but finally the freedom had appeared. This book could be read. He sat down in that chair, chosen carefully by his beloved from all the fantastic offerings on Facebook Marketplace, with Cooper snuggled on his lap, to read a foundational text of paraphysics. He can now finally remove the shame that plagues him every time he talks about this book to people, sells it, even says it was an influence, WITHOUT EVER HAVING READ IT!!! The place in his mind where imagination and reality conflict may finally be, for a brief moment, equal.
HE WILL HAVE READ THE BOOK!
Suddenly, his eleven-year-old busts in. He has ignored all signs posted: 1. STAY OUT OF THE OFFICE. 2. ONLY READING/WRITING ALLOWED IN THE OFFICE. 3. NO ONE CARES ABOUT FORTNITE. He has just discovered that, unexpectedly and FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY, a skin for CARNAGE has appeared in his favourite game. CARNAGE, JASON!!!
THIS MUST BE DEALT WITH NOW!
Jason pauses. He points to the sign. It reads: no V-BUCKS UNTIL THE CHORES ARE DONE. The child objects. Jason points to another sign. DID YOU FINISH YOUR CHORES? The boy objects. THERE’S NO TIME FOR CHORES JASON WHEN CARNAGE IS AVAILABLE! Jason pauses. Have truer words been spoken. He points to another, perhaps more important sign, the one that reads: ASK YOUR MOTHER.
The boy leaves with new hope.
Not a word has been spoken. Cooper looks up at her friend. Jason smiles. Wordlessness in life can be so sweet. The quiet. The rebellious quiet. The kaleidoscope of language that can open, internally, from a book read on a second-hand chair. It uplifts a tired, middle-age bookseller. It uplifts a tired, middle-aged bookseller’s friends as well. Jason pets his ridiculously cute dog, and proceeds to read Alfred Jarry to her aloud.
With love,
Jason and Vanessa
