Tonight I’ll read “The Widower,” my own unfinished novel about the American poet Hart Crane. It is narrated by an imagined character who purports to have been Hart Crane’s lover in the months just before Crane’s death in 1932. So I invite you now to lie down and close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself by taken off to sleep: literate sleep.

Tonight I’ll read an excerpt from the late John Ashbery’s book-length poem FLOW CHART, one of the great monuments of late-20th-century poetry. If you’re unfamiliar with Ashery’s poem, you’re in for a unique experience. It will certainly not bore you, but it might exhaust you with its unrelenting expression so that before long you’ll want to be lying down so you can close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself by taken off to sleep: literate sleep.

Tonight I’ll read (with the author's permission) the first part of Cheryl Mendelson’s “Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House” published in 1999. I had heard long ago that “Home Comforts” was the only modern literary book about housekeeping that was not only useful but beautiful. Friends urged me to read it. I’m ashamed to say that I did not, until recently. Now, at last, I am a devotee of this remarkable (and, at nearly 900 pages, remarkably long) book. Tonight, I’ll start by reading the introductory essay. I’ll read some other chapters later. Now, as I read from THE American book on housekeeping, I invite you to lie down and close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and instead of cleaning your bathroom or kitchen, let yourself be taken away to sleep: Literate Sleep.

This podcast is intended to help you fall asleep. Do not listen to it while driving. It’s best to listen while lying in bed, as comfortable as you can get, and without the likelihood of being interrupted until it’s time to wake up.

I’m Rick Whitaker, and this is Literate Sleep.

Tonight, I’ll read “Human Relations,” an essay by the great Italian writer Natalia Ginzburg, published in 1953. Since I expect you’ll be asleep when I read the end of Ginzburg’s essay, I’ll now read the final sentence of it, which should not be missed: “We’re hurt and aggrieved, we whisper suspicious questions, all the while knowing so well how the long chain of human relations takes its course, making its long and inevitable parabola, the whole long road we have to travel to feel, at last, a bit of compassion.” Now I invite you to lie down and close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself be taken away to sleep: Literate Sleep.

Tonight I’ll read two tales created with assistance from Claude Sonnet 3.7, the AI chatbot from Anthropic. The stories were composed with minimal prompting:

Please write a story that would be ideal for my new podcast called Literate Sleep, in which I read literary texts aloud to help listeners fall asleep. It shouldn’t be boring but also shouldn’t lead to a climactic ending.

Claude dutifully wrote a story called "The Gentle Harbor," which featured a character named Eleanor and a lighthouse, but it had no charm nor style.

Try writing it in the style of W.G. Sebald.

I did some editing and found that I was very pleased with the story.

Excellent. Please write a second story in the style of Sebald that I’ll read as a companion to this one.

Out came "The Archive of Sand," which I carefully edited.

Can you provide a black and white photo to accompany the two stories?

After some back and forth, Claude referred me to the Library of Congress, where I found a photograph I liked, in color.

I make no grand claims for these stories, which are undoubtedly inferior to anything written by Sebald himself. But Sebald is long gone, sadly, and I, for one, am grateful for a chance to read something even vaguely like Sebald’s prose. So I invite you to lie down and close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself be taken away to sleep as I read two new Sebaldian tales, The Keeper of Light and The Archive of Sand. I trust that the sound of my voice will lull you right to sleep: Literate Sleep.

Tonight I’ll read an excerpt from Edmund White’s recently published The Loves of My Life: A Sex Memoir. Edmund is a close friend of mine, and my favorite page in this book is the dedication page, which reads: To Rick Whitaker. Be advised that you will hear some vivid descriptions of gay sex, so if you wish not to fall asleep with such stuff in your head, you might want to skip this episode. Most of my friends will undoubtedly listen to it repeatedly. But if you’re OK with gay sex, I invite you to close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself be taken away, while I read to you, for a peaceful night of rejuvenating, healthy, deep sleep. I’ll read from The Loves of My Life for about half an hour. By the time I’ve finished, I expect you’ll be either wide awake and ordering a copy of the book, or sound asleep: Literate sleep.

This podcast is intended to help you fall asleep. Do not listen to it while driving. It’s best to listen while lying in bed, as comfortable as you can get, and without the likelihood of being interrupted until it’s time to wake up.

I’m Rick Whitaker, and this is Literate Sleep, where I read from literary texts that I hope you will enjoy hearing without being concerned about their endings.

Tonight’s reading is devoted to my own selection of poems by Emily Dickinson, one of the major American poets. I invite you to close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself be taken away, while I read to you, for a peaceful night of rejuvenating, healthy, deep sleep. I’ll read Dickinson’s poems for about 45 minutes. By the time I’ve finished I expect you’ll be sound asleep: Literate sleep.

Tonight’s reading is devoted to the great comic writer Samuel Beckett, who was born April 13, 1906. I’ll read three of his short stories, starting with the longest of them, a story called “Enough.” Now I invite you to close your eyes, calm yourself down, relax completely, and let yourself be taken away while I read to you for a peaceful night of rejuvenating, healthy, deep sleep. After reading the three stories, I’ll read a biographical note about Samuel Beckett. But I expect you’ll be sound asleep by then. Literate sleep.