When I started doing really well in my classes during my first semester of high school, I thought to myself, “Hey, it looks like I’m kind of smart. What do smart people do? They read. Maybe I should read more...” I read as a kid, but I wasn’t, you know, a reader.
I remember one of my high school teachers telling me that the best way to prepare for the ACT was to “read every day.” So I started reading more — not for pleasure but for self-improvement.
One of the first books I embarked on (yes, back then starting a book really did feel like embarking on an arduous journey) was Cal Newport’s “Deep Work,” which hammered into me the power of long periods of totally undistracted work and the danger of taking breaks to check my phone or email. From then on, I tried to read in long chunks.
I had three major struggles as a beginning reader. First, I often thought more about how I was reading or that I was reading than what I was reading. Second, I was a page-counter — I cared more about how many pages I had read than how much I was learning. Third, I craved YouTube videos or Podcasts or movies or audiobooks instead. I still struggle with all three of these, but much less.
I was (and still am) convinced that I learn more naturally by listening and watching than by reading. Who would deny that watching a movie is easier than reading a novel? But, as I now recognize, reading a five-hundred-page novel is usually much more profound than watching a two-hour movie, and reading an argument is usually much faster and clearer than listening to a debate. So although reading is not the easiest or most natural way of absorbing information — check out the NPR interview with Maryanne Wolf, an expert on the science of reading — it is extremely powerful. I think we often assume that reading is reading and once we get to high school we can read proficiently and that is that; or we mistake reading speed for reading expertise. What counts, though, is not speed but digestion of ideas. I digress.
I read Plato’s “Republic” and Marcus Aurelius’ “Meditations” and Camus’ “Myth of Sisyphus.” That is how I became interested in philosophy — it seemed to me that the fundamental books — the books that would teach me the most — were philosophy books. I have since realized that philosophy (especially our somewhat distorted modern version of it) overthinks some things and underthinks others when it does not have the support of faith. My reading, almost by itself, shifted to theology. I read a lot of C.S. Lewis and Chesterton, and eventually Aquinas’ “Summa” and now Augustine’s “City of God.”
When I came to Notre Dame, I met people who had read widely but more randomly and for pleasure. I realized that my way of reading ‘fundamental books’ (to borrow a phrase from Walker Percy’s protagonist Binx Bolling) is not the only way nor the best way of reading. It is a shame to never read books — it is also a shame to only read the classics to accumulate a library of knowledge. I started to read more fiction and more books just because. I must confess, though, that I do still have a bent toward the classics.
Our beloved Hesburgh Library has also had a big impact on my reading. I used to have to buy books — now I can find any book I want at the library. I have discovered and refined my interests by browsing the stacks at Hesburgh, which is sometimes meditative and other times overwhelming; there is so much to read and so little time!
The real reason I ditched my iPhone (see my previous article, “A year with dumb phones”) was to become a better reader. I wanted reading to become less of a chore and more of something I did because I really wanted to, because there was nothing better to do (e.g., go on my phone). I wanted to want to read.
At the end of last summer, I felt that I might be idolizing books too much. I decided to take a break from reading any non-assigned books for a while. That did not last very long.
I am now, after more than six years, quite content with my reading habits and abilities. I still feel, though, that I have read almost nothing compared to what I want to read. I am most happy with the love of reading I have cultivated. I do believe that we can learn to love things — that we can train our desires — and that is what I have done with books.
To conclude, here is the beginning and the end of a poem I wrote about books:
In a good book is a treasure,
In a letter a letter
From eternity.
A word is a cute bow tied tightly
‘Round a gift of mind.
…
How God’s gems,
Mined and refined by His graced servants,
Rejoice when a simple student
Meets, owns, leaves and wishes,
And like a tot with a new toy and a bud,
Spreads the sparkle of the Word,
Strewing the markets of mind with riches of the King.
Richard Taylor is a junior from St. Louis living in Keenan Hall. He studies physics and also has an interest in theology. He encourages all readers to send reactions, reflections or refutations to rtaylo23@nd.edu.
