ROBIN WRITES: Reading my TV

By Editor | March 24, 2026 |

Thanks to the * button on my TV remote, I’ve become an avid TV reader. The moment I land on a show I want to watch, my fingers toggle the CAPTIONS button. I settle in to read the latest episode.
It all started with BritBox. From the first words uttered by any character on any show on the platform, it felt as though my ears were muffled with cotton. They were saying words, but all I heard was breakneck gibberish punctuated with knowing sneers and superior smiles.
There they were, suited detectives in Ireland or England or anywhere where ‘y’all’ isn’t a collective noun. The setting was grim; a cloudy, windswept scene of recent calamity. The rain was falling. The cliffs surrounding a turbulent sea echoed with squawking gulls.
The gulls I could understand. They were not happy.
Coming together in a rumpled huddle, the men and token woman (who would be a pain to work with but would solve the crime) leaned toward each other and began muttering with sharp accents and unusual inflections.
By the time I heard and understood the first speaker’s question (“Who was first on the scene?”), multiple detectives had already given key information, laid out a timeline, discussed the murder weapon, and ruffled the feathers of one or more of their coworkers.
The speed of their conversations mimicked cartoon chipmunks. Chatty preschoolers. Panicked witnesses to a calamity.
And if, God forbid, John chose to cough, clear his throat, or ask me any question during my watching job, I’d huff, rewind, and play again.
It shouldn’t be this difficult to relax and watch TV.
I tried leaning in to focus on the actors’ lips. Surely, I could get an odd M or R or F there. No luck. They were as tight-lipped as toddlers avoiding stewed spinach.
That’s when I finally decided that I needed to employ the wonderful feature of captioning. It wasn’t because my hearing was beginning to fail. Oh no. It was the crummy speaker on my TV and the British stiff-upper lip enunciation.
Once those words started scrolling along the waists of the actors, I leaned back, adjusted my glasses for clear distance, and settled in to not only watch a show but read it.
I felt as though I was enriching my life: adding literature to what was until now an inactive way to spend time on the couch.
I didn’t have to shoot daggers toward John’s (loud) existence. I could lean back and stop looking at jutted chins and squinted eyes. All I had to do was follow the words, a line at a time.
It wasn’t long before I began pressing the “Caption On” button for other channels and stations. Why not, I thought. Even if the actors’ accents are the same as mine, sometimes they just talk too quickly for my taste.
Now, I can’t really enjoy a show without captions. Even if I can understand the words perfectly. Even if the conversations sail my way in perfect diction.
I have decided that in order to enjoy a show, I must be informed that “moody music” is playing or someone “mumbles.” I’ve decided that my ears can’t be trusted anymore.
Sure, there are minuses to the pluses of captioned TV. The misspellings are maddening, and sometimes entire words are missing. Worst of all, a few shows have captioning so slow that the written words are two sentences behind the voices.
But I’m going to keep doing it. It beats turning it up to sonic-boom levels, I can keep my brain alphabet-sharp. As long as my glasses are strong enough, I will always be able watch…and read… my TV.
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■ Robin is a freelance columnist who lives and writes in Quincy, Illinois. Contact her at [email protected].