The Lost Art of Reading

There are few pleasures in this world equal to a good book.

I lean into my chair and fold back the cover. The initial pages pass slowly, as I become acquainted with the voice to whose thoughts I now have access. However, as the story accelerates, I am immersed in this new sphere: the colourful sea of vivid emotions and depictions of reality all contained within the book.

In reviewing the opening sentence of this piece, I wonder if I have chosen wisely. I described a book as a pleasure; reading is then by extension a pleasurable activity. This may not seem controversial, coming from a bibliophile, but the more I think about, the more I believe I have erred in my word selection. Reading is pleasurable, of course, but the word alone is insufficient to encompass the pursuit as a whole.

There is a multitude of books available to the modern reader. And yet reading is not alone as a form of entertainment, as it used to be. In fact, books now have much competition in their claims to our time. Truthfully, there are many things more stimulating than a book: many things more instantly gratifying and enjoyable. Television is no longer a novelty; it can be left on for hours on end. One episode can fade into the next, and all this with little effort required on our part.

Television imagines the story for us. Images appear on the screen and we absorb them passively. However, if we leave the room or fall asleep while curled on the couch with a brimming bowl of popcorn, the program will go on. It will not cease simply because it lacks our participation. This obviously contrasts with the nature of reading. Reading requires our constant participation. We must be invested in the work at hand, or it will be left unfinished, on a shelf somewhere. It is necessary that we give a little of ourselves to each book that we read, that it comes alive through the lens of our individual perspective as we turn the pages and take in the words.

Social media also has a grip on our attention, and often wins in the bid for how to occupy time. In a sense, it is even less involved than television, and much easier. By scrolling on our phone with the touch of a finger, we are instantly connected with the whims and fancies of other internet dwellers from all over the world. It is a peculiar uniting yet distancing phenomenon. Somehow reading joins a line behind these other ways to keep ourselves entertained. Other pastimes are chosen above reading, and reading is seen as only that: one method of many that can be used for the purpose of amusement; a pleasure.

I certainly agree that books can give great pleasures to their readers. But to limit the definition of reading to this one word would, I think, be a grave error. More often than not, we might find ourselves interrupted while attempting to devote ourselves to a book. The activity is associated with entertainment; it is assumed that we are not really doing anything.

I disagree. Action is so celebrated in our modern world. A pursuit is lauded only if it is expressed externally and has imminent material consequences. But the inherent goodness of an action lies elsewhere. When we are reading an edifying, thought-provoking book, we pursue truth, reality, life. There are few things (if any) more important than this.

To read for more than pure pleasure and gratification is to lead the contemplative life. However, I think the word “contemplation” often arouses suspicion. Those who spend time in contemplation are considered lazy, or the activity is depicted as useless because it does not lead to material gains in society. Again, contemplation is seen as not doing anything, merely because the rewards that come from this pursuit are less visible than those of others.

We need people who devote themselves to the contemplative life. We need people who understand that life is comprised of more than the external aspects on which we spend so much of our time focusing. We need people who delve deeper into ideas and search for beauty and truth through reflection and thought. If these ideas are suppressed; if contemplators are shamed into channeling their gifts into more material routes, we lose something. I think we lose a great deal. Perhaps we are all capable of leading this contemplative life. But each individual requires the freedom to reflect and to search for more than we are given in the endless search for entertainment.

To read can be to contemplate life; to learn, to grow, to discover; to create from these fragments of thoughts. But reading needs to be protected, as does the contemplative life, and prevented from being buried beneath a layer of only pleasure.