> Don’t read for X or Y reason, read for intrinsic reasons
And intrinsically a lot of people are not wired to read literary works, and some even have issues reading such that they prefer active doing and get their hands dirty, or in thought do active deconstruction (in the Lego sense) and dialogue.
Without an "out" or a permission to not read, people will be compelled to do so. "Where literacy is an idol, not reading is a sin" is a modification of some other quote from Orwell.
A way to externally smell out those who should reconsider reading: (a) they speed read materials that are not practical "tools", (b) they tend to prefer trendy content (rather than art or nuance) (midwit CSI effect), (c) they are better off doing than reading about others doing (parasocial agency). Maybe there are more tells but IDK
Weird timing this essay. I was just thinking about the point of reading last night, not long before I picked up Crime and Punishment of all books, but I'll come back to that.
The conclusion I came to is that I should read for leisure, not really any other reason. I wouldn't say this is the same as reading for amusement but I think that discussion could meander on and on and would take a long time to articulate - like your battle with art versus content. Basically, I asked myself what would I do given unlimited time and money? And one of the things I'd like keep doing is reading quality books. So I figured that's a good enough reason. It's an end unto itself which is where I think you can argue reading to live is the same as reading for amusement/leisure (I'll ignore any difference there for this).
We've all beaten to death fiction > non-fiction for learning how to live in the Social Club so I was trying to square this in my mind with the above. And that's what brings me back to Crime and Punishment. As you pointed out it can be slog and I different found the early pages a slog but as I finished part 1, I found myself engrossed in the story and that's when I started to feel that maybe a lesson is starting to seep in, I can't articulate what that is yet and even really identify it, it's like a hazy mirage on the horizon I can't quite make out, but I'm sure it'll become nearer and clearer as I progress.
All this to get to a neat little summary of, you can't learn how to live from reading, or probably anything from that matter, unless it feels like play.
Now my tea is finished so I should get back to work.
I agree entirely. I think I may have come across as being a bit unfair towards C&P but I supposed the point I was trying to make was that when I read it all those years ago I read it for the wrong reasons. I expected to get something out of it. I approached it on my terms rather than on its own terms. And things rarely work out when you approach them this way. You have to submit to the activity, to the process, whether it be reading, a hobby, a sport or anything else. I suspect this is what people are getting at when they talk about mindfulness and being in the moment etc. But what do I know?
I don’t think you were unfair at all. It’s a perfect example of a signifier book.
I suppose it’s both a blessing and a curse for books that are canonical. On one hand having a curated list of the ‘best’ works helps us work out what’s worth our time. On the other, so easy to one on of them for the wrong reasons, as you’ve discussed.
we are with ourselves all the time, so to escape myself, I read. to escape is fun! kind of like when you were a kid and snuck out of your bedroom window after dark to hang with your friend(s) and see what you could get into. Now, I sneak into books and get lost. such an easy way to have fun!
Thank you, Joseph. I think the best way is to simply read for the fun of being immersed in a story rather than to intentionally learn something or gain an outcome. Of course sometimes we have to read to learn because there is something we *need* to learn. But generally it should be an immersive experience for its own sake. Sneaking into a book and getting lost, as you say.
Well. You had me with the distressing truth that there are only so many books a man can read. I am a lot older than you and I think about that a lot. I still want to read all of Eco, I want to read The Broken Sword, I want to read a the myths and legends of Japan, amongst a thousand others. Between me and those books stand more than a hundred books I have bought, still unread.
I think it was Terry Pratchett who suggested it was possible to build heaven as you wanted it to be. So my heaven will have an impossibly beautiful renaissance library, utterly silent, with gleaming brass spiral staircases to the upper levels. It will have an entrance from the saraglio, and an exit to a spit and sawdust inn in the Elizabethan England of the 1570s.
But I do have a contribution to your essay. Books have always been my life. About ten years ago, my life crashed, was completely destroyed. Now prior to that I had bought many self-help books, read them studiously. But now life hurt too damn much for that. I consciously thought about what I was reading and longed for the pleasures that books had given me as a young man.
So I deliberately tried to venture into books that were similar to those that had given me joy. Some examples. I adore Poul Anderson's tales of the sly, lecherous, yet heroic space merchant Nicholas Van Rijn. My book ESP led me to Chris Wooding's Steampunk "Tales of the Ketty Jay" novels which have so many parallels to Anderson's tales. My interest in history led me to Braudel, and other works on the civilisation of renaissance Europe. I discovered that there were so many of these, that a year went by, just reading those histories. They couldn't help me resurrect my life, but over time they did make me better.
It really helped. Reading became key to my life again. I wasn't this mopey broke, betrayed man. I was somewhere else, learning and living. Paradoxically, books renewed my interest in the real world.
This is exactly what books are for in my opinion. To renew our interest in reality in all of its strangeness and complexity. To bring us back to ourselves rather than take us away from ourselves, in a sense.
Thank you for taking the time to leave this comment. It was very open and honest. Must have taken some courage to write.
> Don’t read for X or Y reason, read for intrinsic reasons
And intrinsically a lot of people are not wired to read literary works, and some even have issues reading such that they prefer active doing and get their hands dirty, or in thought do active deconstruction (in the Lego sense) and dialogue.
Without an "out" or a permission to not read, people will be compelled to do so. "Where literacy is an idol, not reading is a sin" is a modification of some other quote from Orwell.
A way to externally smell out those who should reconsider reading: (a) they speed read materials that are not practical "tools", (b) they tend to prefer trendy content (rather than art or nuance) (midwit CSI effect), (c) they are better off doing than reading about others doing (parasocial agency). Maybe there are more tells but IDK
Weird timing this essay. I was just thinking about the point of reading last night, not long before I picked up Crime and Punishment of all books, but I'll come back to that.
The conclusion I came to is that I should read for leisure, not really any other reason. I wouldn't say this is the same as reading for amusement but I think that discussion could meander on and on and would take a long time to articulate - like your battle with art versus content. Basically, I asked myself what would I do given unlimited time and money? And one of the things I'd like keep doing is reading quality books. So I figured that's a good enough reason. It's an end unto itself which is where I think you can argue reading to live is the same as reading for amusement/leisure (I'll ignore any difference there for this).
We've all beaten to death fiction > non-fiction for learning how to live in the Social Club so I was trying to square this in my mind with the above. And that's what brings me back to Crime and Punishment. As you pointed out it can be slog and I different found the early pages a slog but as I finished part 1, I found myself engrossed in the story and that's when I started to feel that maybe a lesson is starting to seep in, I can't articulate what that is yet and even really identify it, it's like a hazy mirage on the horizon I can't quite make out, but I'm sure it'll become nearer and clearer as I progress.
All this to get to a neat little summary of, you can't learn how to live from reading, or probably anything from that matter, unless it feels like play.
Now my tea is finished so I should get back to work.
I agree entirely. I think I may have come across as being a bit unfair towards C&P but I supposed the point I was trying to make was that when I read it all those years ago I read it for the wrong reasons. I expected to get something out of it. I approached it on my terms rather than on its own terms. And things rarely work out when you approach them this way. You have to submit to the activity, to the process, whether it be reading, a hobby, a sport or anything else. I suspect this is what people are getting at when they talk about mindfulness and being in the moment etc. But what do I know?
I don’t think you were unfair at all. It’s a perfect example of a signifier book.
I suppose it’s both a blessing and a curse for books that are canonical. On one hand having a curated list of the ‘best’ works helps us work out what’s worth our time. On the other, so easy to one on of them for the wrong reasons, as you’ve discussed.
You can’t control the legacy that your work ends up having. You can just do your best. I guess that’s the moral.
we are with ourselves all the time, so to escape myself, I read. to escape is fun! kind of like when you were a kid and snuck out of your bedroom window after dark to hang with your friend(s) and see what you could get into. Now, I sneak into books and get lost. such an easy way to have fun!
lovely post, well done.
Thank you, Joseph. I think the best way is to simply read for the fun of being immersed in a story rather than to intentionally learn something or gain an outcome. Of course sometimes we have to read to learn because there is something we *need* to learn. But generally it should be an immersive experience for its own sake. Sneaking into a book and getting lost, as you say.
Well. You had me with the distressing truth that there are only so many books a man can read. I am a lot older than you and I think about that a lot. I still want to read all of Eco, I want to read The Broken Sword, I want to read a the myths and legends of Japan, amongst a thousand others. Between me and those books stand more than a hundred books I have bought, still unread.
I think it was Terry Pratchett who suggested it was possible to build heaven as you wanted it to be. So my heaven will have an impossibly beautiful renaissance library, utterly silent, with gleaming brass spiral staircases to the upper levels. It will have an entrance from the saraglio, and an exit to a spit and sawdust inn in the Elizabethan England of the 1570s.
But I do have a contribution to your essay. Books have always been my life. About ten years ago, my life crashed, was completely destroyed. Now prior to that I had bought many self-help books, read them studiously. But now life hurt too damn much for that. I consciously thought about what I was reading and longed for the pleasures that books had given me as a young man.
So I deliberately tried to venture into books that were similar to those that had given me joy. Some examples. I adore Poul Anderson's tales of the sly, lecherous, yet heroic space merchant Nicholas Van Rijn. My book ESP led me to Chris Wooding's Steampunk "Tales of the Ketty Jay" novels which have so many parallels to Anderson's tales. My interest in history led me to Braudel, and other works on the civilisation of renaissance Europe. I discovered that there were so many of these, that a year went by, just reading those histories. They couldn't help me resurrect my life, but over time they did make me better.
It really helped. Reading became key to my life again. I wasn't this mopey broke, betrayed man. I was somewhere else, learning and living. Paradoxically, books renewed my interest in the real world.
This is exactly what books are for in my opinion. To renew our interest in reality in all of its strangeness and complexity. To bring us back to ourselves rather than take us away from ourselves, in a sense.
Thank you for taking the time to leave this comment. It was very open and honest. Must have taken some courage to write.