#artofreading

I often hear students lament over the challenges of reading. Most of the complaints are centered around the problem of low motivation. Students, especially non-English majors, find it hard to devote two or more hours per night to a novel. They are not interested or fail to engage with the text and enter into a cycle of running behind on readings for class and becoming overdependent on summary services such as Shmoop and Sparknotes. 

Personally, I find motivation to read when I am able to engage the text and make connections. If I fail to see the relevance of a text in my life, it is challenging to put in the effort to read it. Sometimes the relevance comes from the fact that the text is speaking to topics of interest in the public sphere today, but mostly in college, it has more to do with the grade in tow. 

As a student, my heart goes out to my fellow students crushed under pages of reading as they chant “C’s get degrees.” As a scholar, however, I weep. It is sad that students are just getting by or hoping to survive a class without truly engaging the material presented. 

What is the point of college if we are only surviving? What is the goal we are trying to reach? Are we just machines that churn out assignments? NO! We are human beings with souls and desires. We face challenges and overcome. Reading, to some extent, is the continuation of someone’s story. Someone writing about their dreams, desires, and challenges. Whether it is in a novel, an article, or a textbook, literature is significant because it ties humanity together. 

I realize the irony of a digital blog post about reading and writing words on an actual page, especially coming from dizzying multimedia-maker-iPhone-head me. But recently I stumbled upon two very poignant articles that I needed to read for my own good and which I want to share with others as a reminder to stop, drop, and read or write.

One was in the Wallstreet Journal about the importance of reading slowly on a regular basis, especially fiction books, especially quietly, and the creation of groups that gather to do just that. Interesting quote from that article: 

"One 2006 study of the eye movements of 232 people looking at Web pages found they read in an "F" pattern, scanning all the way across the top line of text but only halfway across the next few lines, eventually sliding their eyes down the left side of the page in a vertical movement toward the bottom.

None of this is good for our ability to comprehend deeply, scientists say. Reading text punctuated with links leads to weaker comprehension than reading plain text, several studies have shown. A 2007 study involving 100 people found that a multimedia presentation mixing words, sounds and moving pictures resulted in lower comprehension than reading plain text did.

Slow reading means a return to a continuous, linear pattern, in a quiet environment free of distractions. Advocates recommend setting aside at least 30 to 45 minutes in a comfortable chair far from cellphones and computers. Some suggest scheduling time like an exercise session. Many recommend taking occasional notes to deepen engagement with the text."

I love this! After graduating from a Master's program filled with dense textual analysis, I made the intention to read books that were lovely and inspiring. I found myself hungry for that kind of reading in a new way, and I have chosen a new book every few months because of it. It was to regain an enjoyment of reading, but also to continue learning beyond school. What this article later says about comprehension, attention, and the ability to have empathy through fiction reading struck me as absolutely true as well. There is a slowness to reading that can relax your mind, refocus you, encourage you to live more thoughtfully and happily. 

The catch for me always lies in my own productivity. I make things that go online - that's a huge venue for my work. So how to get offline? In order to thrive as a creative right now, it seems nearly impossible. But to make time for paper, for books, for quiet reading, is one way to loose myself from the hold the digital world has upon me.

The other great article, found here, talks about the amazing work James Pennebaker is doing on ways that writing can help heal the mind and even body. 

"Why? Pennebaker believes this act of expressive writing allows people to take a step back and evaluate their lives. Instead of obsessing unhealthily over an event, they can focus on moving forward. By doing so, stress levels go down and health correspondingly goes up." 

Seems to make perfect sense, however mysterious - which I also love. 

Having recently attended a poetry reading and a writing workshop, I recalled the importance of quietness and words and imagination without screens. These articles both seem to suggest that books and e-books will bring the same results, but for me this kind of slowness really calls for a disconnect from devices or else I will be ultimately distracted. 

Often we all complain of "not enough time," and I think that was even more so true when I was working in the northeast. I wrote this poem when I was VERY young, lol, but also very busy. Thought I would share this today, and write all this down to encourage writing, reading, etc - on or off screen.

I think I have come to understand how important the stillness is. In this new age, it has become a spiritual necessity. 

Semicolon (2008) When Hemmingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life. Old age is more like a semicolon.” – Kurt Vonnegut

Prayers for time, 9 more hours in a day; please, let those hours be Yours. Petition peace, frail chances at silence; make that our hearts do not stop.

Start, morning drums; slide, trombones; sound, trumpets; wake us with Your love song. Hum, night; swing, moon; tuck us in, star swoon; teach us how to sleep.

Sting of absent time, burn in our bones; make us older and wiser. Needs and joys we have, aging list of expectations; please, let us be young again.

currently reading: 

"A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by David Eggers

"Le Morte d'Arthur" by Sir Thomas Malory