The title of tonight's diary is, of course, also the title of an essay by Virginia Woolf, first delivered as a lecture at a private girls' school in January, 1926 and later published in the Yale Review in October of that year. It is still an intriguing question, especially to Modern Man, brought up on a steady diet of "how-to" books as it is. Why shouldn't the reader seek advice from one of literature's giants of criticism as well as foremost novelist and essayist?
I recently re-read this essay, which I found, browsing my home library, tucked at the end of The Second Common Reader by Virginia Woolf on which title page appears this quotation of Dr. Johnson in The Life of Gray
". . .I rejoice to concur with the common reader; for by the common sense of readers, uncorrupted by literary prejudices' after all the refinements of subtilty [sic] and the dogmatism of learning, must be generally decided all claim to poetical honors."
Tonight I invite you to discover how you should read a book, fellow Common Reader. No one will browbeat you; there is no correct answer to the question; there is, rather, and invitation to see how one person has answered it and be stimulated to answer it for yourself.
Please turn the page.
I venture to guess no Lurker, Follower, Contributor, Editor, or Admin of R&BLers will argue with this statement: Books exist to be read. Where differences of opinion, nuances of approach, and personal proclivities diverge in as many paths as there are individuals, is in responding to how one should go about getting one's reading done. The question is a highly personal one; some might say an intrusive one. The answer to it is for each of us to decide. As Woolf admonishes us, ". . .take no advice. . .follow your own instincts. . .use your own reason. . .come to your own conclusions."
To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries. Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions -- there we have none.
But to enjoy freedom, we must impose self-governance. From our first reading experiences to our last, we have duties and responsibilities to our reading selves. We set out to read in a convivial spirit; we come to our books with an open mind, receptive and unprejudiced by the opinions of others. Even when we read a bestseller. We enter into the joy of reading as the author's friend, her fellow worker, even as an accomplice.
We do not read in a vacuum after reading our first few books in our tender years. Early on we begin to wonder beyond the text and ask how much is the book a reflection of, or even a piece of, the author's own life? How important is that to us? By being the writer's friend we sometimes try to become him. Now is when we may identify our own lives with his or hers. We have entered into the author's mind when we enter into his book; it is only natural that we wish to enter the author's life to some extent, too.
Fully immersed, we receive impressions. We adventure in different worlds, travel in different times, become intimate with different people -- all of which are impossible to indulge in real life. We enter the difficult and complex existence that lives in literature. Woolf warns us that
You must be capable not only of great fineness of perception, but of great boldness of imagination. . .
if you are going to enjoy and use all that the writer gives you. Lazy people don't read books.
But being a receptive reader is only the first half of the reading process. "We must pass judgment upon these multitudinous impressions." Our relationship to the author changes from friend to critic -- but neither too sympathetic a friend, nor too harsh a judge. Yet, we owe the book, ourselves, and the community of readers a comparison of the book we have just read to the best book of its kind -- books that have passed prior judgments and lasted though time.
Over the time of our lives we synthesize our personal idiosyncracies with our judgments and produce an individual taste that, as we gain reading experience, can serve to filter our reading choices. We mature as readers, gaining confidence in selecting what is worth our time. We choose not to waste our time and sympathy on certain writers, on false, fake, books "that fill the air with decay and disease." This second part of the reading process is more difficult than the first and most certainly is not for lazy people.
It would be easier to accept the received wisdom of the "furred and gowned" but we owe an honest effort to writers we have extended the hand of friendship to; we have worked by their side and our labor may be just as dear. We cannot suppress our own powers of evaluation in favor of someone who did not enter into our tête-à-tête between the pages. Even if our judgments are wrong, our feelings are valid. And as time goes on, with each book we read, by choosing ever more carefully, "perhaps we can train our taste; perhaps we can make it submit to some control."
Then we will have fully met our responsibilities as readers. Perhaps we'll rise beyond the "common." Yet, our task is not complete. Beyond our responsibility is an overlooked aspect of the reading process -- our importance as readers. We have the power to influence the direction of literature by demanding stronger, richer, and more varied books. Not as some kind of "end" to literature but as some kind of reward to ourselves.
Woolf carries that idea into vivid imagery at the end of her essay, When the Judgment Day dawns
and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesment come to receive their rewards. . .the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy whe He sees us coming with our books [and Kindles] under our arms, "Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them here. They have loved reading."
Not a bad epitaph. Until then, how will you read a book?
How to Read These Books?
Here we are at the mid-point of 2011. What are the best books of the year -- so far? Amazon has asked and answered that question (from their p.o.v.). And here are the results. Are any of these to your taste? Exercise your judgment and, if you've read any book from this list, please tell us how you evaluate it.
1. Lost in Shangri-La: A True Story of Survival, Adventure, and the Most Incredible Rescue Mission of World War II by Mitchell Zuckoff
2. The Tiger’s Wife: A Novel by Téa Obreht
3. In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler’s Berlin by Erik Larson
4. Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chefby Gabrielle Hamilton
5. The Tragedy of Arthur: A Novel by Arthur Phillips
6. Bossypants by Tina Fey
7. 22 Britannia Road by Amanda Hodgkinson
8. Before I Go to Sleep by S.J. Watson
9. Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything by Joshua Foer
10. Please Look After Mom by Kyung-sook Shin
Nos. 7 and 10 are on my wish list.
Readers & Book Lovers Series Schedule
DAY |
TIME (EST/EDT) |
Series Name |
Editor(s) |
SUN |
3:00 PM |
Science, Math, and Statistics Books |
plf515 |
SUN |
6:00 PM |
Young Reader's Pavilion |
The Book Bear |
SUN |
9:30 PM |
SciFi/Fantasy Book Club |
quarkstomper |
MON |
8:00 PM |
My Favorite Books & Authors |
billssha |
TUE |
8:00 AM |
Calvacade of Words |
aravir |
TUE |
8:00 PM |
Readers & Book Lovers Newsletter |
Limelite |
WED |
7:30 AM |
WAYR? |
plf515 |
WED |
8:00 PM |
Bookflurries: Bookchat |
cfk |
THU |
2:00 PM (bi-weekly) |
eReaders & Book Lovers Club |
Limelite |
THU |
8:00PM |
Write On! |
SensibleShoes |
THU |
10:00 PM |
The Illustrated Imagination:Graphic Novels |
Cabbage Rabbit |
FRI |
9:00 AM |
Books That Changed My Life |
etbnc, aravir |
FRI |
9:00 PM (every 3rd week) |
A Book, Its Movie, and a Glass of Wine |
mdmslle |
SAT |
9:00 PM |
Books So Bad They're Good |
Ellid |
NOTE: Though not part of R&BLers Weekly Magazine Series, please look for "Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left" by various authors republished here every WED NOON by
aravir. Also look for "The Mad Logophile" by
Purple Priestess that appears intermittently, when the spirit moves her.
Other than that, nothing's happening.