Words from the Wise and Otherwise, Part Seven
Dear Reader,
I realized that the last two in this series had more contemporary contributions, and it was time for a return to some with a little more historical weight.
Of course, that means I’ll promptly commence our selection with the following:
“Most popular book in the world—the pocketbook.”
Anonymous. The Foolish Almanak. 1906.
I remain a fan of puns and punning; it’s a curse. (Yes, that quote is literally the reason I decided to do one of these this week.)
Turning to less punning matters, here’s a reading-adjacent quote that would pair well with my occasional reflection on Josef Pieper and many pieces on Zena Hitz’s recent Lost in Thought:
There is a legitimate leisure and nobly employed. For example, a legitimate leisure is that which, obtained through hereditary fortune, is engaged in gratuitously serving the country, in study, in the management of property, the cultivation of land, in travels devoted to observation and the amelioration of human things, in a noble intercourse with society.
Paul Janet. Elements of Morals. 1884.
It’s interesting to note Janet’s idea of “legitimate leisure.” At the time he was writing, it wasn’t an uncommon consideration, though I don’t recall if that particular adjective is Janet’s (translator's) own or one used by others. Then, as now, there’s a question of what we might mean by legitimate leisure—Zena Hitz’s book a striking exploration of this very question.
Janet’s little line about “hereditary fortune” is certainly one that some contemporary readers might find difficult. And honestly, it’s the several elements of this quote that make me go “Hmm” that I appreciate. To this newsletter’s more narrow purposes, the quote obviously includes study—thereby encompassing reading—within the possibilities of legitimate leisure.
Play with the quote a bit. It’s a fun one to ponder.
And with that directive, I think the opening line of this next excerpt is rather apropos:
The state of mind of a writer is not the state of mind of his reader. The writer knows his ideas, and has spent much time with them. The reader meets these ideas for the first time, and must gather them in at a glance. The relation between two ideas may be clear to the writer, and not at all clear to the reader.
Garland Greever and Easly S. Jones. The Century Handbook of Writing. 1918.
That is, of course, from a book on writing. I suppose I should be writing about reading books on writing at some point… but today is not that day! Well, aside from the above reminder and this next quote:
Steady, quiet, consecutive reading is necessary if we are to do steady quiet, consecutive thinking; and, without such thinking, it is impossible for writers to produce anything worth while.
Flora Klickmann. The Lure of the Pen. 1920.
Here’s where I should probably mention something: I absolutely adore Klickmann's book. I need to re-read it, actually. I had to read it online the first time. But I’ve collected at least two quotes from it for use in my own manuscript. This book is great. Well, if memory serves. It’s got an amazing collection of writing zingers, anyway.
And the above quote is 100% in the realm of reading as a writer.
As it’s back-to-school season, I thought I’d end our reading perambulations with a reflection on reading for tests:
In writing the examination, be sure you read every question carefully. Each question has a definite point; look for it, and do not start answering until you are sure you have found it. Discover the implications of each question; canvass its possible interpretations, and if it is at all ambiguous seek light from the instructor if he is willing to make any further comment.
Harry D. Kitson. How to Use Your Mind. 1921.
First, for those stuck doing the standardized-testing dance, you’ll also need to observe what I call “house style.” Since you can’t ask the instructor to clarify mid-test—as the proctor is not the instructor and unlikely to be of help—you’ll have to learn the habits of the test makers. Just as The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times have different house styles—and The New Yorker has an even more distinct style from them both—standardized tests have their own distinctive styles: the way they phrase things, the questions they like to ask, the types of material they select for test-takers. House style in standardized testing is similar to adjusting to an annoying teacher’s (or professor’s) pet peeves and preferred responses. It’s about surviving pedantic fools…
Second, observe that bit of British English: “writing the exam.” In American English, we typically “take the exam.” My Canadian and British students over the years do not “take the exam anywhere; they write it.” Of course, my American students have rejoined that the exam is already written, that they therefore aren’t writing it, and that they have to take what’s offered as an examination of their understanding.
I enjoy that little quirk of language. There’s possibly more regionalism to it than I’m aware—feel free to share if you’ve had some experience with this one!
Happy reading to you,
Kreigh
P.S. I hadn’t initially noticed this little supra-heading on my oddball magazine Slightly Foxed's front cover, but it has “The Real Reader’s Quarterly” written above the main title. And I love it, as those who've suffered read Stephen Booth with me will particularly appreciate. It’s also an extremely British quarterly, one filled with book reviews. It’s strange I appreciate it because I typically dislike book reviews, especially positive ones. But these present more meandering journeys than direct reviews.
The reviews also do something else that allows me to appreciate them: they explore books I have no intention of reading. The reason I don’t appreciate most positive book reviews of books I might read is that I have no wish for someone else’s mediation before I encounter a text on my own, at least not in the heavy-handed fashion of most book reviews. I enjoy such reviews only after I’ve read the thing myself. (Exceptions to this exist, but they are indeed rare.)
P.P.S. Among several “Why haven’t you written about this yet?” themes, there are two rather important pieces that I’ve left in the drafts thus far. The first is “The art of suggesting a read.” The second is “Welcome Gifts – Giving Books That Get Read.” I’d thought to do the latter sometime in November, in time for holiday shopping. But it and the former can technically be done whenever. If there’s a month in which you’d like to read one of those pieces, please send me an email with your vote.