The Loser likes his library. The building was made in the 60s and is swoopy and modern. Half a dozen years ago, they wanted to move to a space in an industrial park nearby and demolish the building, which leaks every time it rains heavily. (In fact, at the moment access to the stacks is restricted thanks to an autumn snowstorm.)
The Loser's late father and others protested this plan. They were among the many retirees who go to the library often and sit and read newspapers and magazines, meet others their age to chat with, take out books now and then, and in general get out of the house. Their protest was successful and the library will stay where it is. For now.
Back to the Loser's reading. The more he reads, the easier it gets. He doesn't go for reading for entertainment. He likes good books, the kind you can quote, and books like that aren't necessarily dull. Honest. Watch, he'll open the last book he finished, The Sense of an Ending, by Julian Barnes, and find something worth sharing in no time. Ready? Here goes ...
OK, it's been three minutes and here's what I found without looking too hard:
I remember a period in late adolescence when my mind would make itself drunk with images of adventurousness. This is how it will be when I grow up. I shall go there, do this, discover that, love her, and then her and her and her. I shall live as people in novels live and have lived. Which ones I was not sure, only that passion and danger, ecstasy and despair (but then more ecstasy) would be in attendance. However ... who said that thing about "the littleness of life that art exaggerates"? There was a moment in my late twenties when I admitted that my adventurousness had long since petered out. I would never do those things adolescence had dreamt about. Instead, I mowed my lawn, I took holidays, I had my life.
The Loser wants to get good enough at reading to make it as if he's watching a good movie or TV show. Think of all the money he'd save!