The Active Reader
Have I been doing it right? I’ve read countless books and continue to do so, but have I rushed through some that deserved more of my attention? In this post, I attempt to answer that very question.
I’d like to start this post by sharing a little problem I’m wrestling with - see if it sounds familiar to you. I have this odd feeling that I need to read as many books as humanly possible before I die. I was talking about it with Laura last night, and she admitted she’s wrestling with something similar: “I better get moving because I’m never going to get where I need to be.” After she said that, I couldn’t help but think, Where exactly do you need to be? Where does anyone need to be in regards to their reading?
Our conversation continued, and I asked Laura what the actual goal of reading is. Is it simply to read as many books as possible? And if that’s the goal - if a person were to sit on the couch all day, every day, devouring book after book, what would be the point? You could read a million books and then keel over. What was it all for?
I replied, “If there were only a thousand books in the world and you could read every one of them, fine, that seems to be a worthy goal. But there are countless books, and no matter how many we read in a lifetime, we’ll barely scratch the surface.” We both agreed. I added, “So why not enjoy what we read? Take it slowly and read with purpose.” Again, we agreed that this approach seems sensible. Still, I can’t shake the urge to read more books - faster. It’s partly motivating, but I suspect it can’t be entirely healthy either.
The Act of Actively Reading
I think I’ll start focusing more on truly enjoying my reading. Not that I haven’t been, but I’ll admit there have been times when I’ve treated books more like hurdles to clear than experiences to savor. I haven’t always given them the attention they deserved. That said, the books I’ve genuinely loved have held my full focus. And like many other readers, I suspect, I’ve skimmed through the ones that never quite earned the title of “favorites.”
For instance, I’m currently working my way through The Valley of Fear - a Sherlock Holmes story. It’s decent. I wouldn’t call it great, but it’s serving as a bridge until I stumble upon another book as good as The Name of the Wind. I doubt that’ll ever happen, but a guy can hope. I think of these as “in-between books,” and unfortunately, I’ve been stuck in that in-between phase for a few years now. Honestly, it’s starting to feel a little depressing.
I’ve heard active reading compared to playing catcher on a baseball team. To the casual observer, neither activity looks particularly demanding. Watch someone read, and you’ll probably get bored. Watch a catcher crouched behind the plate, waiting for the pitch, and the same thing happens. At first glance, neither person seems to be doing much of anything.
Look closer, though, and the intensity reveals itself. Think about how many synapses are firing in that catcher’s brain as he anticipates the pitch. Step onto the field, glance into his eyes as the pitcher releases the ball, and you’ll see absolute focus. Now compare that with a reader who’s fully absorbed in a book. While passive readers - like I can be while reading a Sherlock Holmes story - might seem distracted or disengaged, active readers show a completely different picture. Their gaze is locked on the page, their concentration unshakable, and their readiness for the unknown palpable.
Expecting the Unexpected
If we already knew what was coming next, why bother reading at all? That’s my take. On a first read, I enjoy being challenged, surprised, and carried along by the story. If I fall in love with a book, I’ll likely return to it again, and if I truly, deeply love it, I’ll keep reading it over and over throughout my life. I’ve done that with The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss and The Last Question by Isaac Asimov. Both captivated me so fully that I couldn’t get enough of their words.
In most cases, though, it’s the unexpected that I crave the most. Take, for example, the six-word story allegedly written by Ernest Hemingway: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” It’s the shortest story ever written, yet it gives pause. Or consider the world’s shortest horror story, penned by Fredric Brown: “The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door…” That pause - the moment it forces you to stop and think - is precisely why so many Comp & Lit professors choose to discuss these stories with their students. It’s the pause that sparks active reading. The unexpected is what keeps us engaged, and as readers grow more experienced and prolific, we find ourselves craving that very effort because the surprise, the unknown, is ultimately what we desire.
What Makes a Reader, Good?
A good reader deciphers. He or she attempts to understand, interpret, and identify whatever is being read. Just like a catcher trying to make sense of a pitch, a good reader must take an author’s words and grasp them in the way the author intended. Consider something you’ve read recently. Was the author attempting to convey a framework, a perspective, a theory, an observation, a procedure, a methodology, a philosophy, or some sort of logic? What is it that I’m trying to convey to you right now in this post? Sometimes even the author isn’t entirely sure, but a good reader will figure it out.
The Value in Reading Well
It makes sense to take your time while reading and to truly try to understand the author’s purpose. Otherwise, you risk spending your time accomplishing very little. A good reader can gain more from reading a single book thoroughly than a careless reader can from skimming a dozen. So why rush through, wasting both the book and your time?
I’ve already admitted that I’m breezing through my Sherlock Holmes story. I’m just trying to get it done so I can move on to whatever awaits me on my end table. I feel as though I’m failing Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, whose work is legendary and beloved by so many. Who am I to skim through what he crafted with such diligence? I need to do better. I need to take my reading more seriously and become, for lack of a better word, more active in my approach. Otherwise, as I mentioned earlier, I’m merely wasting my time, and what sense is there in that? Ultimately, I want to be an active reader who truly learns from what he reads and appreciates the value of the author’s words. Perhaps I can gain more from this one book than from the dozen that I’ve recently read.