" When the ship suddenly pitched more steeply, the bookworm lost his grip. He came skipping over the toilet seats—his ass made a slapping sound—until he collided with my father at the opposite end of the row of toilets. “Sorry—I just had to keep reading!” he said. Then the ship rolled in the other direction, and the soldier sallied forth, skipping over the seats again. When he’d slid all the way to the last toilet, he either lost control of the book or he let it go, gripping the toilet seat with both hands. The book floated away in the seawater. “What were you reading?” the code-boy called. “Madame Bovary!” the soldier shouted in the storm. “I can tell you what happens,” the sergeant said. “Please don’t!” the bookworm answered. “I want to read it for myself! "

― John Irving , In One Person