Stretching Your Boundaries
Dear Reader,
If you’ve found yourself in any sort of reading rhythm, you might simultaneously find yourself stuck. That is, you read only one genre or you read only things you want to read. Reading is your entertainment.
Such reading can even become that ancient vice: gluttony. But even if it does not near such dangerous places, your reading can become a form of mesmerism. Instead of clarifying your thoughts and your mood, it simply indulges escape.
I still think reading to escape is reading. And it can even be good reading. If it’s the sum total of reading, however, you might find yourself in a rut. You probably won’t grow in the ways that reading purportedly makes a person grow. You also won’t know what your range is, where else you might find sustenance and enjoyment.
I’m not going to offer a prescriptive “read this, not that.” That’s not what I intend here. This won’t be a reading list. What I’m thinking about right now is how reading can stretch us, when reading can stretch us.
One thing I’ve tried to incorporate as a maturing reader is to have one hard read for every enjoyable read. Now, this ratio isn’t for everyone. Some people might need to have three enjoyable reads for every hard read. Some might prefer to attempt three hard reads for every enjoyable read (these odd individuals probably find fuel by adorning themselves in sackcloth on the regular).
Whatever the ratio is, doesn’t really matter. The goal is to find a ratio by which you can occasionally challenge yourself, but not find yourself frozen by weariness at the idea of yet-another “classic” or “important” must-read that you just can’t muster the energy to read. The list of books that a person should read is endless. That can be inspiring or daunting. If you don’t balance in the things you want to read, you will swiftly discover yourself not reading. Find your ratio.
I must admit that this post has been a somewhat painful one to write. You see, I managed to royally screw up my ratio recently. Sometimes life forces you out of your preferred equilibrium. But sometimes you also let life dictate more than it should. In my case, I joined the sackcloth enthusiasts.
I didn’t intend or want to join them. I have, however, been doggedly researching for my new book on critical thinking for over a decade. And most of that research material is depressingly bad. (Poorly written and poorly thought through)
To my dismay, not one but two GIANT tomes on critical thinking came on my radar in the past year. The first was published to crickets in 2015. I think I might be one of ten people to read its 600 pages. The second came out literally a year ago, perhaps intriguing a few more crickets. And it’s nearly as long as the first. Along with those books, I had a backlog of over 100 scholarly articles to examine.
And so I left myself no time for pleasure reads. No time for personal edification, either. When you’ve been at something for a decade and you’re nearing its end, you try to push through. Yet more than two thousand pages of dense scholarly text is not the same as reading two thousand pages of a novel, particularly when it’s poorly written, edited, and grouped. And much of that material has been precisely those things. (Recall, no one is reading these books. In fact, they aren’t intended for reading so much as book breaking.)
And so I started to resent reading. And I stopped reading. Period. I did start writing more of the chapters for my book. And I read emails and texts, of course. But that was it.
When reading is all drudgery—and frankly becomes pure torment—you don’t do it. You’re also quite aware of that fact. Doesn’t help. You can know that you’ve found a different ancient vice—sloth—all you want. Your lethargy can’t be budged.
You might wonder how or if I pulled myself out of it. The answer to that is mostly. I’m still picking my way through the second tome… My eventual response, after all the self-loathing, was identical to that of someone breaking a fast or coming off the latest fad diet: I gorged myself on things I wanted to read.
I’m now essentially back to rocking my reading ratio—one pain for every pleasure—and the world is a happier place for all the reasons.
I don’t share my story for its happy ending, such as it is. I share it in the hope that you’ll get a sense for what a reading ratio can look like, so you can start developing your own. I also share it to show how an unbalanced reading approach can lead to not reading. Tomorrow, I’ll offer more on this topic, including some suggested reads!
Happy reading to you all,
Kreigh
P.S. Lest you think I’m exaggerating the size of these tomes, ask one of my recent students their size. I frequently use them or several of the articles to model for them how one grapples with material of such scope and density. As I prefer the saying to run, those who can do, teach.
P.P.S If you missed yesterday’s post, it included a lovely reflection on dinnertime, for your dinnertimes.