When I started this blog, my goal was to explore the state of poetry today, its efficacy, if any is left. As I noted before, the blog has evolved somewhat from this project, but I still keep an eye out for interesting discussions on the state of literature today. One recent article appeared in The New Yorker, a magazine that I enjoy, but which appears to have an annual tradition of denouncing the state of reading, perhaps in order to make its readers feel superior to the general "masses" of the illiterate.
To be fair, the article did not take this tone, but as I read about the general decline of reading, the way TV is rotting everyone's brain (literally, apparently, as part of the article focused on the inferior cognitive functions acquired when viewing rather than reading), I found myself having the opposite reaction of what I would have predicted.
Yes, I am disappointed in the general decline of reading, but most people I know are, in fact, still reading. Wait! You're thinking this is because I am an English teacher, and that it's unfair to take a sample from what are sure to be readerly friends. Not so, actually. I have reader-friends from work and graduate school, but I am also in touch with a lot of friends from my childhood, some of who think I am crazy for wanting to teach English and tell me so frequently. But they still enjoy a good book, even with a good movie.
While I have to admit that poetry reading is definitely on the decline, I don't think the state of reading is so bad as a whole. I think it's rather *what* people are reading that causes so much friction, since they don't tend to read the classics as much as the latest fad. I realize I should be the first person to push the classics and be disheartened by the lack of general interest in them. And really, sometimes I am. In my more pessimistic moments, I get frustrated that no one reads the books I recommend just because they are not easy. I wish I could share my love of Graham Greene or Sara Coleridge or Thomas Hardy at the neighborhood Christmas party. But in my more optimistic moments, which I'm trying to have more of this year, I realize that reading for pleasure will come in a variety of genres, and that I am happy that I can share a common activity, if not a common author.
And as for the cognitive decline based in viewing rather than reading -- I can't compete with scientists who monitor brain function, but I can admit to enjoying great films and watching the stories unfold in visuals too. We can always complain that people aren't watching the "right" films or reading the "right" books, but I'm not ready to do that.
4 comments:
I agree with the whole reading for pleasure thing--I certainly don't expect people to enjoy reading 19th century prose in the way I do. But, shouldn't some sort of line be drawn? Should reading Dan Brown be celebrated just because it is reading?
I actually have a thing about once a month were I just LONG to read some poetry. Good thing I've got a few really great books of poetry that I can always turn to.
I can't deny that I draw lines in what I value as a reader, and of course I want others to do the same! I don't think I would celebrate Dan Brown (especially because I didn't even know who this was!) necessarily, but I would use the discussion of the reading experience as a way for me to connect with my friends who are never going to read some of my favorite books. I like the feeling of community reading initially generates, but it's true that I would probably not be able to stop myself from saying, "Well if you liked that, you'll *love*...." [fill in the blank with a Victorian novel]. I guess the teacher in me will always honor the engagement with any text, even when I can't stop myself from hoping people will push their limits and try new authors. Is this too idealistic? :)
Well, I for one love Sara Coleridge *and* I really enjoyed The Da Vinci Code (though I dislike how every job interview I've ever been in meets my current research project with "It's a bit like Da Vinci Code then?") :-) SC is not, of course, a "classic" by any stretch of the imagination but, then, what is a classic? It wasn't so long ago that Victorian literature for a lot of people meant Thackeray and Swinburne, neither of whom are much studied today; Virginia Woolf wasn't really read thirty years ago; and, even as late as the mid-1990s, you couldn't get anything by Christina Rossetti for love or money, even though she's all over the school and university curricula today.
I don't think there should be any 'right books, wrong books' either but would be content if more people were open to the possibility that old books could be as fun as new books. But, then, they don't at present, because they perceive 'old books' to mean 'classics'.
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