I have written here a little ode and quatrain to what reading is, because I find that not a lot of people like to do it anymore, or something along the lines of reading is just not a habit they take after much nowadays. Or they cannot put together the two mental bits of focus it takes to sit down and read a book. I think that's a terrific, shambolic, disdainful shame. I love, dreadfully love reading. I would not regret dying, but that I had not read all the books I would have. Well, this is what I mean when I say, reading.
What is it to read? I mean, what is it?
To read is to look at a written script and to recognise individual symbols which physically group up into collections which we call pictograms (when in spatial juxtaposition) or words (when linear), each pictogram or word representing an idea, however little, and ideas by themselves, or more commonly, when strung together in grammatical structure, forming meaningful pieces of information. We take the data, whether spartan 1s and 0s, or Chinese flowing calligraphy, and we have this little box in our minds which parses the bits, reconstruct the thought, re-orient the idea, and piece together the whole thing in the mind, constructing, conjuring, conceiving a living, growing, mental framework, this framework which sets not only the rules for perceiving ideas, but also rules for accommodating them in a coherent understanding. Then the lot is stored somewhere in the box, to re-surface sporadically if the brain can muster it. Thus we make sense of etchings. We read.
And then of course we ask, well, why do we read?
I think we read because we desire information. At its core, we think information is valuable. And very often, it is. For example, it is extremely valuable to know that a and b makes c, and along those lines we are able to pay our taxes. We read because it entertains us, to follow a tale or some sort of account. It is an interesting thing to ask why we even started writing in the first place, "we" as in the great Mediterranean sailors and traders, the Phoenicians (ancient men of Lebanon) - and it is probably because oral transmission, occult and intriguing as it doubtless is, is not a fair record of truth in the majority of circumstances. It is controversial, and not many can be expected to tell their version of the truth, at any good and proper extent, when things of value are involved. So we learnt to put the important things down. And to be useful, the things which are put down must somehow be able to come back up. So the power of visual symbols (and to a lesser extent, tactile symbols) became a bedrock, an organising force in reliable human communication.
Well, that is all very well and good, but how do choose what to read?
You will see that I am coming closer to the How and the How Should, but first let us deal with the What. The basic formula is simple enough - generally, we select what we read by determining and selecting only the information which in our estimation is worth more than the time and energy expended to obtain that information. But as all worth is relative, there are some general themes of value we adhere to. Science is perhaps the clearest example. With each bit of additional information, we refine theories to describe phenomena known to us, and to predict the results of real interactions. In our history it has generally been found that theoretical science is often able to provide practical science. Thus we map scientific knowledge, we better understand our ignorance, and we improve our conditions with technology - from agrarian reform to space travel. But the sublime, unscientific things are also valuable. The essences of human communication, body language, aural perception, emotional response, why, all sorts of things which must escape dry and quantifiable description, subjective experiences which cannot be placed in a court of scientific scrutiny, all these are intrinsically and exceeding valuable. We read what teaches us about the World and all that is in it.
Of course, at some point we will run out of juice. So we try and ask, well, given that I will surely get tired before I collect and parse all the relevant information, what can I choose which is material and which has good weight, and how can I best get the structure of the story before my eyes? So that my mind can fill in some of the blanks, be reguided by useful data points if I should conceptualise wrongly, and always suffer being led down strange and wonderful paths by pure prose, clear articulation and splendid script? And so we favour reading which from the start provides a nice map of things, a size of the forest before the trees, a coherent structure which intuitively leads one to try colouring within the lines, and at the same time gives breathing room to visualise new blends, new textures, new shapes. Then the reading must provide good evidence of its claims, core examples of what it is trying to say, to illustrate its principles. Thus, for example, Archimedes claims that with a long enough lever and a place to stand on, he can move the earth. As much as he was referring to the leverage a physical force has, calculated by reference to a fulcrum and a base, one naturally also grasps the concept of mental leverage, that a man with an idea, and good premises, can move the world.
And How do we read?
Well, comfortably! of course. It would be best to do so as a matter of habit and taste. There is no substitute for a good lounging deportment, a firm yet pliant resting seat, a warm, soothing beverage (not sweet), a light murmur in the background, nice, subtle smells of wood and brew, and a warm, cheerful, steady light. Style is inconsequential - nothing fashionable or required to be so can stand in the way of the pursuit of knowledge. It would be absolutely preferable to have a physical copy of the book, in as immaculate condition as possible, allowing for careful handling while reading through. There is nothing quite like holding a book, feeling its heft, admiring its proportions, and flipping the page. Thick or thin, all books are read the same way, one page at a time. And time, of course. One must ask for time, time above all else, and uninterrupted time even more so. It is an absolute necessity.
Yet How Should we read?
I was certainly hoping to get to this question, but it is of course necessary to have explained the more basic premises first. Come now, How Should we read? Well, in my view, it is quite necessary to accept the author on his or her own terms. Which is to say, to believe in good faith that the whole of the writing is meant to be taken as indeed a whole, from first to last, and in so doing it shall organically and purposively present its shape, flavour and texture to the reader. The reader must trust that the author is an intelligent man or woman who believes more or less wholeheartedly in the enterprise, the spur of writing that has produced, through trial and error, the written article that sits in your hands. The reader must grasp intuitively the motive force that the author is inspired by, and the voice with which the author instructs the reader to listen. Of course, there is no real, aural voice, so one must engage it in the creative imagination - a Speaker, whether avuncular or matronly, whether feverish or passionate, whether reserved or oblique, whether simple or minimalist, whether airily or haughtily, and whether cheekily or sardonically. It takes all kinds of styles to produce all kinds of works, and it does one no good to reject a piece because of the hue and colour it is styled with. The reader must take on the work as it stands, and subject it not merely to the cold light of day, but also to the warmth of gentle hands and an eager heart. Yes, the reader must learn to be sympathetic. For how else can the reader inhabit the world of the writer, and if that is not the aim of reading, then how little can the words capture the imagination! Yes, imagination. One must learn to read with, amongst all else, imagination. So do not let the words sit on the page in flat ink, no, they must stand, they must glide, they must soar in one's spirit. It does no good to one to simply read, no, one must equally reflect. So stew upon the words, ruminate upon the ideas, behold them in one's mind and recreate them in as good a light as one can, and then re-engage them, and scrutinise whether they stand up in logic, good sense, rationality, keen spirit, and prescient illumination.
Oh, this is all very high and mighty, and perhaps not every book will permit themselves to be so revealed. Yes, there are difficult works, confusing works, craggy and unscalable works. These of more erudite boffinry tend to snuff out the joy that follows the reader through more confident navigations. Well, to be perfectly honest, sometimes it takes time, and a little assistance. The reader should learn to recognise when it is happening before it wrings him or her out entire, and resist the temptation to quit, instead he or she may re-gather his or her wits and circle around for an easier sally. It is no good forcing one's way through linearly if all the words begin to pile up and hardly add to the register. Take if necessary a heuristic from someone who has already some sense of the work - but seriously take care not to rely wholly on another's view, for it is the mental pathways one creates, whether rightly or wrongly, which are the most valuable. Yes, whether rightly or wrongly, use and trust in that world building tool you have between your ears!
Where does the serious reader look to read?
I should dearly like to say, why, towards everything he or she wants dearly to read! But of course that is a long and tremendous journey that he or she must begin with his or her own hands. First and foremost I should think the serious reader should eschew light and frivolous writing, things absolutely unessential. I do not mean things mainly composed in humor, jest or troll - there is usually much sense in that, a kernel of truth in every exaggeration. Well, perhaps there is a case for light reading, something to while away idle, fleeting, abbreviated time, to set the mind at ease with some drivel. Other than that, which I should like to permit only as leisurely garden-variety entertainment, the reader must try to bring always a good physical copy of a book with him or her. Now, as a general guide, the older (or more prestigious) the field, and the more authoritative the author, the more is a book to be treasured. But take a little bit from all, the best bits if you can, and it will surprise you how much it all adds together, how wonderfully the threads run through history, how satisfyingly one can meld together the depth and extent of human understanding. Start with philosophy. Then read science. Fall in love with history. Cherish Latin American literature, embrace it with all your heart. Marvel over the illustrated novel, the parallels with mythology leap out of the page. Devour the sports writing. Dive into the exquisite world of Chinese literature, the wisdom of Chinese philosophy. Visit for the first time the local authors, and wonder at all that so much has been neglected. Select eclectically, choose from recommended lists, and listen to the passion rise in your friends' mouths as they speak about the books they read. Finally, as Jiminy Cricket would say, Always let your conscience be your guide.
