The Benefits of Forced Reading

 A Reflection and a Reaction

This blog post is not my typical book-bracket. After reaching the three-quarter mark of two classes I am auditing now, I felt the urge to type up a reflection on why being forced to read certain books was something I was finding beneficial. However, the lack of a coherent line of benefits meant I kept putting off the task. 

Then, I started watching a short video series entitled "Read More Books Now." No, the irony of watching videos about how to read more books was not lost upon me. Once I reached the fourth episode, I found my creative juices flowing as I reacted against what the speaker, Brandon Vogt, shared. 

The combined effect of class and video on my writing impulse follows here.

Vogt's Argument

Brandon Vogt is the regular co-host of Bishop Barron's "Word on Fire" podcast, which I have taken up listening to this year. By listening to this podcast, I've come to realize that he's a smart guy, and his ideas are definitely worthy of consideration. When I stumbled upon a free one-month trial of his ClaritasU site, I skimmed with an eye to interesting course titles, such as the enticement to "Read more books now!" 

Episode Four, "Don't Be A Slave," considers Vogt's take on knowing when to put down a book without finishing it. He says that people don't need to finish books they don't enjoy because, in his figuring, "For every one book you read, you have to ignore 10,000 other books."  Like I've said in my own words, "Life is too short to read books you hate."

However, I took issue with the fact that Vogt did not temper this take in any way, and I finished the episode with the impression that if one does not like a book for any reason, dump it. This all-or-nothing perspective rubbed me the wrong way.

Great Books Classes

I'm auditing two classes right now at my undergraduate alma mater. These classes were just developed and are based on other "Great Books" programs, or programs that focus on reading classic works of literature for a more liberal-arts approach to education. At the beginning of these courses, the three professors that co-teach these courses made a point of discussing why we read difficult books. Bo Bonner, in particular, says that reading great books isn't about what one gets out of the book; it's about what the book gets or draws out of the reader. If we are not up to the struggle, it's more of a reflection upon us, the readers, than it is upon the merit of the book.

This take on reading takes Vogt's views head-on. Rather than giving up on a book because we do not enjoy it, the professors at least imply that we ought to fight through difficult and lengthy works because the ideas in them push us and help us to grow.

In My Own Life

I will concede that there is value in Vogt's views; after all, I earlier mentioned something about abandoning books that cause hateful feelings. I'm sensitive to the ideas expressed in books and movies, so I probably end up abandoning proportionately more books than the average reader. I'll even admit that I skipped at least one of the classics assigned for the Renaissance classics course because I didn't want to struggle with it (no thank you, "Doctor Faustus").

However, I have to say that I've seen a lot of fruit borne from reading works that I would probably never have picked up otherwise.

To provide some backstory (which is one of my favorite pastimes), I decided one summer during my high school or undergraduate years to dedicate time to reading classic works of literature, and I was burned by the experience. It may have had something to do with the fact that I read two books by James Fenimore Cooper, an author who apparently had trouble with writing happy endings. In any case, I decided that the classics were maybe not the best types of books to read on the regular.

Then, in late college, I discovered that there were lots of books in the world that I actually wanted to read. (It sounds strange, but that is a story for a different post.) I discovered a Facebook group that regularly has book posts that contain treasure troves of new books I want to read. My reading list has never been longer.

Finally, this last year, I've dedicated myself to the practice of reading books and reviewing them for this little blog. I have to admit that I don't think I've ever tried so hard to read so many books. There's something very satisfying about knowing that I sometimes have six or ten books to consider in a month. When I signed up for these classes, I saddened a little bit, because I realized that I would no longer have as much time to read the books that I knew I wanted to read. I wouldn't have the enjoyment of clearing off a little more space on my shelf or picking up a quick filler book to beef up the monthly book bracket. I was to take on the long-disused yoke of assigned reading. 

I ended up with two lists of books that, with only two or three exceptions, contained books which I seriously doubted I would have picked up to read anytime in the next twenty years. I tried to read as many books as was feasible for me at this time in my life, even the more philosophical works. Some I had to skim, and others I was forced to skip.

But can you guess what I discovered? There was actually something appealing about being told what I must read. I realized that I had spent much time - years, in fact - reading only the books that I decided would be interesting to me. By trusting my own inclinations, I had become the ipso facto expert of what books were the best for me.

These classes have taught me that this is not necessarily true. I still ultimately decide whether to read the works in the class, but having much smarter and sharper professors and classmates there to discuss difficult works and to help me dive into the texts has helped me view literature with something of a broader perspective. I would probably have never read Frederick Douglass' "My Bondage and My Freedom" on a whim, but reading it for the class gave it a chance to really make me think about different topics. I find that trusting another's judgment about these works has been good for me.

One of the most comforting takeaways is that classics are not necessarily going to to comforting. Quite often, they are just the opposite. I guess I had this idea that classics would be works of great beauty and big ideas that would always make readers thing of transcendental goods (wow, that sounds a little high-falutin' to me as I type those words out), but now I've partially adopted the viewpoint of my professors and I think that classics are sometimes classics because they make people think, and making people think often happens by making them uncomfortable.

Going Forward

I am still looking forward to the summer of 2021, when I will officially have my reading life back and I can indulge in whatever my fancy fancies. However, I'm also looking forward to the spring semester of 2021, when I will have another list of required reading for two more classes that I will be auditing. I feel a little silly saying this, as it is a big backpedal from my former position, but I'm actually looking forward to at least trying to wrestle with some books I figured I wouldn't read for another decade, if ever - books like Shusaku Endo's "Silence" and Evelyn Waugh's "Brideshead Revisited." I doubt I'll actually make it through the first one, a la Vogt's strategy, and the second one might reach completion only with skimming, but I'm at least going to give them some honest consideration, which is more than they've had from me up to this point. I hope to grow my intellect and reading appreciation from encountering these difficult, sometimes unenjoyable, sometimes unexpectedly interesting, books.