Guilty here too … always a pencil in hand!
My annotations on a page from John Banville’s Birchwood.
To read, I need a book and a pencil.
I’d like to emphasis that the pencil is as much a conduit of information between book and mind, as are eyes and brain, and as much of a physical necessity, as is my ability to hold a book open or flip a page.
I produce the following anecdotal evidence:
If I sink into a sofa with a book, but without a pencil, I will exhibit all the symptoms of anxiety and discomfort—fidgeting, gazing about, scratching, gazing about, back-and-forth page-flipping because I can’t remember what I just read, and some more gazing about—until I finally get up and acquire that writing implement I’d been gazing about for.
It has to be a pencil (preferably a mechanical pencil so I don’t need to sharpen it), but no erasers are needed.
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