The Bookworm by Taylor Hood
“ Your lesson is to know purity from filth . Only by contrasting the work of God ’ s children with that of the Beast will our goal become clear . Now read , boy . Reflect , absorb , assimilate .” “ But I ’ m dizzy … and hungry .” “ Enough . You will do this thing as you have always done it . And you will do it for the one who is gone . Read , from the beginning .”
I lifted my gaze from my lap to the table . The hanging lamp cast a harsh circle of light on the dark oak wood . Dad sat with his hands in a pyramid before it , sallow hair limp on a balding , liver-spotted head . The reflective silvery silk of his nightgown hurt my eyes , yet walls of shadow always funneled my attention back to him . Between us , two books had been arranged . The leftmost book held no warmth , its black cover empty save for two austere words in gold foil . The book on the right was forest green with a close border of entwining ivy . A tiger ’ s face peered out from the leaves .
Lifting himself on frail arms from the chair , Dad pushed the black book toward me and stood with his hands splayed on the table , waiting . I had to lean halfway over to reach but , careful not to touch the gold letters , I dragged it with me to my seat .
I opened it slowly , stifled a groan . A hollowness was in my stomach as if I had been emptied . The frontispiece showed only a chaos of black swirls through
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