Why I Read

Be warned, dear readers, you’re in for a surprise this week when you click to read Jen’s book review. OK, we’ll spill the beans – there is no book! Yes, this week Jen analyzes why, in her opinion, she is the most voracious reader that we’ve ever had the pleasure to meet … and of course, it makes fascinating reading.

I thought this week might be a good time to monopolize your attentions with a lecture. The teacher in me just can not resist the rapt attention of a room full of vacuous, drooling students. Oh, no offense. I refer to other students I have had. You all are a lovely, quick, intellectually-emboldened bunch. Cute too.Anyhow, I am not yet finished with the book I am currently reading, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbary. It is really good and rather than rush through it (too many big words to do that anyhow), I thought about why I like reading so much.

Many obvious reasons leap to mind. The stories are usually compelling. I want to know what happens to whom and why … and what shoes they have on. I like figuring out who dunnit. Did Holmes really get pushed off Reichenbach Falls? I like visualizing the colors and styles of settings. A feast of lobsters on the shores of Maine with a bottle of whisky.This leads to an escapism, which is another very persuasive reason to read. A book takes you to a different place. A world unlike your own where only you are going. Sometimes it is familiar, sometimes not, but it rarely matters.

It is fun though, if one’s real life is less than exotic. No time-travel, no murder, no espionage, very little actual French cooking. But of course, no tropical paradise in Jimmy Choo sandals can out do the sheer pleasure of emptying the dishwasher again before 8 a.m., but we have to try.And the idea of murder is always appealing early in the morning. One child on the 7 a.m. bus, two more on the 8:20. I do laundry, breakfast, kitchen, school snacks and shower for work while my husband is leisurely picking out his tie and watching Matt Lauer. People have been killed for less, but I digress.*

Reading can take you out of your physical situation but more importantly out of your mental situation. Many places you could not find yourself emotionally are within reach. What would you feel like if your parents died ? (awful – I speak from sad experience).Or what if you were transmogrified and attacked by crazed villagers (also awful ). What if you were born old and aged backwards? How about being a woman in the 40s? Or married to that icky Frank Lloyd Wright? Or fighting for your life below the streets of London? What would it feel like to be the Prince of Wales and fight for your life with crazed bikers in a marsh in New Jersey?Isn’t it marvelous that we have the means to answer these queries at our fingertips?

The more I can read, the more I can learn. The more I can learn about other people and other places, the better chance I have of formulating a coherent grip on my immediate life. The more I know about myself, the more use I can be to others.

As Elizabeth Gilbert points out in Eat,Pray,Love … she can not change everyone but if she starts with herself, she can make a very positive impact on others. In whatever free time I have, I choose to read to make myself a better person. So far so good , I think**

* In all fairness he then leaves and works a much longer day than I do. I manage to fit in a fair amount of thumb-twiddling, but I have to maintain my nasty attitude for appearance’s sake.

** Reminds me of a joke … Descartes is on a plane and the stewardess offers coffee or tea. Descartes replies,’I think not,” and promptly disappears.