Charlie Stross waxes nostalgic over the incredibly elaborate Victorian reading-chair that he almost bought at an antique shop, but by the time he'd made up his mind to do so, it had already sold. The story predates his first digital camera, so there are no accompanying photos, but Charlie knows a thing or two about evoking images in prose:
Well, this was no ordinary chair: it had clearly been made to order, probably during the Arts and Crafts period, for an eccentric Victorian Scottish gentleman who wanted a reading machine. I don't have any photographs of it, alas (this predated cameraphones: in fact, it predated both my first mobile phone and my first digital camera) but it was at heart a wood-framed armchair, with brocade seat and back padding (badly in need of restoration).
But that's not all. It was a recliner, with a deck-chair like prop behind the back (which was hinged), and a leg-rest (also padded) that could be pulled out from a drawer hidden under the seat, then angled to the user's desire. Being rather more inflexible than a modern recliner, the right arm-rest was cunningly hinged to open sideways, like a rear-hinged car door, to allow entry and egress. The left arm-rest supported an elaborate adjustable wood-and-brass book reading stand, clearly modelled on a music stand, with a small circular side-table on an arm (for the wee dram of single malt) and an oil lamp holder. My memory may be playing tricks, but I'm also fairly sure there was a magnifier. Oh, and did I mention the bookshelves built into the armrests and lower back (below the reclining section)?
Yes, it's a market failure. While you can buy reading chairs with built-in bookshelves today, they constitute a tiny market niche: most people simply don't read that much, and among those who do, specialized seating is a secondary consideration. Also, the sheer amount of detail on this antique far exceeds anything I've seen in contemporary designs (possibly because the wealth distribution was wider, making labour proportionately cheaper: we're looking at a bespoke creation for the Victorian 1% — the equivalent of a waterproof 80" flatscreen TV built into a hot tub for two with en suite cocktail bar, only rather more durable and elegant). So, being older and less impecunious, I keep my eyes open for a similar piece … with no expectation of ever finding one.
I am actually drooling at the thought of this thing.
