Reading to Jip

Back in Seattle, Jip would happily listen to friends reading aloud to her. She preferred real people to books on tape because she enjoyed stopping to discuss a point or going off on tangents. Sometimes it took two hours just to read one chapter. Everyone involved loved those days. The purpose was not to finish the book, it was to extend the back-and-forth as long as possible.

Then gradually Jip’s brain changed and her attention span shortened. She focused on the here and now, became less interested in the there and then. Fewer readers came to visit. They realized that the days of lengthy, teased-out conversations weren’t likely to return. Jip’s listening tastes turned to taped dharma talks—familiar Buddhist homilies she had already heard dozens of times—or short letters and e-mail messages that I would read to her occasionally.

That’s how things stood when we arrived in Bangkok. Many of her old friends here remembered Jip as an enthusiastic reader. When they learned that she had lost her vision, they offered to send over Thai books that the caregivers could read to her. For a long time, Jip resisted. She was so fixated on her routines that she didn’t want to introduce anything that might vary from day to day. She also betrayed some deep-seated snobbishness, saying that the caregivers didn’t have enough education to do justice to stories. If anyone read to her, she said, it had to be in English.

But a short time ago, an old friend and former professor of Jip’s happened to pass through town, and asked what Jip might like to listen to. To my surprise, Jip offered up the name of a book that I wouldn’t have guessed she had heard of, a Thai tale called The Happiness of Kati. This story appealed for several reasons, among them that the author uses a wheelchair. This writer also happens to be the sister of the current prime minister. Jip admires their father because he is an expert on Jip’s disease.

The book sat on our shelf for a while because Jip still refused to be read to by her caregivers. One morning, a couple of my Thai colleagues dropped by. They had come over to read to Jip a few months earlier, but for various reasons the reading never happened that day, so now they were trying again. I suggested The Happiness of Kati. Instantly the story captivated Jip. Her whole expression changed, as if she were a detective listening for clues to solve a case. She interrupted several times to ask questions and share her own experiences. It took nearly two hours to read the first chapter.

She asked Patama and Noi when they could come again. They said maybe they would be free again the following month. Jip’s mouth fell open in disappointment—she had been hoping maybe they could continue the story the following day. On a hunch, I suggested to that afternoon’s caregiver that she pretend to have just noticed the book for the first time, and to flip through it while saying things like, “hmmm, this part looks interesting.” I said that she might want to “accidentally” begin reading it “to herself,” beginning with Chapter 2.

Sure enough, Jip didn’t stop her. In the evening, the next caregiver picked up where the previous one had left off. Tag-team style, they finished the book in three days. The tale hooked Jip enough that it didn’t matter who her narrator was, she just wanted to get to the end. Conveniently, the book has a sequel. Now she lets anyone read to her. The local crew and Jip have finished several stories together. This part of the day is a great addition to the routine.