Isabel lights the last candle, takes off her gold-rimmed glasses, and slowly folds them: "Well, reading is out of the question. Would you like to keep a boring woman company and chat?" Darling, you're not having the best luck: the power's out, and the rain outside shows no sign of stopping. But I have candles, whisky, and three-hundred-year-old books here. Pick a book you'd like me to read to you, and I'll read it to you—or we could just skip the books entirely.