More than anything else the child likes to read. Another thing the child likes to do is eat, and if she can combine these two activities, so much the better. The child becomes fat and educated, causing her mother concern, as her mother, like most mothers, wants a slim, pretty daughter. The child is interrupted from her after-school routine of consuming books and chips, cookies, or popcorn, and sent to participate in various activities. She is teased for her appearance, her seriousness, and expected to take part in games and sports. After attending several of these sessions, an authority figure inevitably calls the child's mother to come and remove her, for after being teased by boys also enrolled in these groups, she fights her greatest tormentor. As she is not only fat, but tall for her age and strong, she is almost always victorious. If the child does not pummel thin-necked, spider-armed boys, she sits or lies on a bench, refusing to participate in the "fun." This also precipitates a call to her mother.

The family pediatrician suggests family outings as the best way to get the child's nose out of a book. And so the family piles into their small car and drives to the ocean where, as the climate is cold and foggy, they huddle inside the car looking through the windshield at the ominous sky, the grey waves. They consume hard-boiled eggs, yogurt and other foods her mother believes have a slimming effect.

Vacations are planned involving sun or snow but these prove disappointing as someone in the family always ends up with sunburn, or a bloody nose, or nearly drowned.

After several trips to museums, the child's parents become angry and frustrated that they cannot answer the child's questions about art; they are also annoyed when she giggles loudly at the male nudes, and eventually the family outings are abandoned.

The child returns to her books and her food, pleased that she no longer has to stand on the crumbling tennis court in the park on weekends, attempting to swat the ball back to the other side of the net in the hot sun.

During adolescence she grows rapidly, and all are amazed that she is no longer fat. In a new school she studies the most popular girls to see what makes them so, observes they act silly and toss their hair. The young girl acts silly and tosses her hair and is soon climbing out of her bedroom window at night to have sexual interludes with her boyfriend.

Her parents believe she is thriving: she makes friends, goes to parties, and has more than a cursory interest in clothing. That she goes to parties with these friends in her new clothes to occasionally ingest whiskey or beer is something that does not occur to them, an idea they would not allow themselves to entertain if it did.

In college the young woman goes to several parties, where she stands in a crowded dorm room or cheap-rent apartment holding a beer, glass of wine, or mineral water, listening to people say let's get ripped, or let's get naked, but finds, after several emotional injuries, that she isn't as interested in getting naked, grows tired of her sentences responded to by 'wow' or 'cool,' and goes back to reading.

In graduate school several men in her department tell her they respect her intelligence, and then after several meetings where they discuss Shelley, or more likely Byron or Blake, they try to put her hand on their respective crotches, invite her to their places late in the evening.

After receiving her advanced degree the woman gets a job she does not like, but is grateful to have. Her heart has been broken twice, but she does not see this as unusual or exceptional. She has had no serious accidents or illnesses. Her credit it good. She believes her job to be secure.

In the evenings after work the woman, large once again, wanders the aisles of the supermarket pulling things she likes to eat from the shelves and plunks them in her cart. When she arrives home, she will pour herself a glass of wine, perhaps two, and make herself some dinner. When she has tidied up she will sit on the couch reading, and after this, for an hour or so before bed, she will switch on her computer modem to access discussions on the Internet. She does not usually take part in the discussions, finds many of them pointless and uninteresting, but monitoring them makes her feel part of something.

One evening a poem floats up the screen. The sender has typed "Who wrote this?" under the last line. The woman thinks for a moment, types "Masefield" on her screen and sends it through the network; she does not care for the poem. Several minutes later the word "Yes!" appears along with the sender's e-mail address and a request for her to send a message. The woman is tired, however, turns off her modem and retires to bed.

The following day she often thinks about what sort of note she might write that night. At around 11:00 p.m. she puts down her book, turns on her modem and types her electronic mail number on the screen, along with the message that she likes to read. The response is that they do as well, although, they add, this is probably obvious. She decides from the tone of the message that the sender is probably male, and undoubtedly smug about his literary erudition. She thinks about going back to her book as she has known many men smug about their literary erudition-they are usually compulsive, unstable people who secretly believe themselves to be geniuses. She types a page from the book she is reading, Life , a user's manual, wonders if the man will be able to discern who wrote it. Georges Perec, the author's name, sits on her screen.

The woman and her e-mail acquaintance continue to leave notes for one another. On a Friday evening when she returns home from work she looks through her electronic mail box and finds that her e-mail correspondent has requested her telephone number. She sends it after dinner. She has guessed right, her e-mail friend is a man. She doesn't think he is smug about his literary erudition, but it is too soon to be sure. He tells her he works in a publishing house that has become more commercial and is doing fewer literary titles. He does not like his job. She is surprised to learn he lives in such a distant city. The conversation lags and the woman realizes she has lost her social skills, can't think of anything to say, especially when the man is spending so much money on this long distance call. At a loss, she begins reading from Life a user's manual. She and the man discuss Perec and then, as they have been talking for forty-five minutes, the man says he has to hang up.

The following weekend the man calls back, wanting to read to her. The week after that it is her turn to present a text, and the calls continue this way for several months.

She has a friend in the man, a boyfriend of sorts-although they have never spoken in person. Every now and again the man brings up the subject of their meeting and she refuses, not wanting to spoil what they have, because although it may not seem like much, the woman is sure it is something.

While shopping in the market one evening after work, the woman notices she feels slightly uplifted, in a good mood, then remembers the man will be calling that evening to read the final chapters from Evelyn Waugh's A Handful of Dust, where the main character, thought by people in the outside world to be deceased, reads ritualistically to his companion whenever his companion wishes, always and forever, and forever and ever.