The lost art of reading

AN art – the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination. And reading fits right into that. More often than not, we talk about the skill of reading – decoding signs and symbols – but reading goes beyond that; it involves imagination and a world of contemplation that extend beyond just skill. In fact, the application of creative imagination and communication that comes with watching the pages of a book come alive is an art. It is beyond teaching and rather connects with that deep part of us that yearns to be set free. It is quiet and foreboding and peers deep down into us. It is the magic of reading. Yet, it would seem that in our current climate and the ever increasing demands of a world that refuses to slow down, we are gradually losing the art of reading.

In an article published in the Los Angeles Times, David Ulin points out that reading is an act of contemplation in which we allow ourselves to merge with the consciousness of another human being. “ We possess the books we read, animating the waiting stillness of their language, but they possess us also, filling us with thoughts and observations, asking us to make them part of ourselves.”  To truly read, we need to give of ourselves, to communicate with the text and to take in the conscious thoughts of another. That in itself require silent contemplation; to make a thing part of ourselves and to leave it filled with a new conscious whole. This is why when we read, aeons seems to pass us by. We are content sitting, poring over the words and letting them lead us. Contemplation is not done in a hurry, it is not merely glancing at a page or skimming through a forty page essay confident that we know what it contains. Rather, it takes time to truly reflect, ponder over each thought before we take a decision from the inferences we make. At that point, it is not merely about winning an argument or firing off a quick response to sound informed or culturally relevant. It takes more.

Yet, we live in a constantly changing world that refuses to be quiet. There are tweets and posts to be responded to in a hurry, a rebuttal to make and the constant fight to stay culturally relevant in a world that cannot seem to make up its mind. Technology never helps with its notifications and immediate replies that keep calling for our attention. It is harder to take time out to reflect and reach deep into ourselves, to not just gaze or skim over words but to truly read them. To engage our minds with the text and to hold back opinion till we see it through. It is like Andy Miller, in his article titled, “We are losing the art of reading”, aptly puts it “ The innate human desire to make ourselves look cleverer than we are, combined with an overabundance of consumer choice and the intense cultural bombardment of the digital age, means we increasingly lack both the time and willpower to engage with anything longer than 140 characters or more demanding than Granta or Grazia. Better to speak volumes than to read them.”

Have you ever found yourself in a group of intellectuals discussing a culturally relevant book and you find yourself nodding along when a certain author comes up? You agree with the speaker and even make contributions yet your opinions are based off a post you read on social media rather than your own? We often assume that we know just enough from the posts and tweets we get off social media, we take the opinion and highlights of others who may not even truly know as the law. I find myself doing this often when I skim through a summary of a Classic and decide that I know all about the book. Meanwhile, nothing beats actual reading; there are no substitutes for it, not even carefully prepared highlights in the form of summary. It requires silence, a filtering of the noise.

• Poor electricity hinders e-library in Calabar ― Official

I have always loved the art of reading, losing myself in the pages of a book. I love the adventure of it, the sense of escape. The fact that I can be anywhere at a particular point in time living another life, in another body and viewing their experiences through that lense. Reading has always brought me so much joy because I feel the emotions of the characters, I experience their highs and lows and I become them. I love the quiet contemplation of reading, the characters become my friends and in my mind, I see them. In fact, when I finish a book, it never truly leaves me. It becomes an integral part of me and years later, I find myself making choices based on the experiences of my favorite characters. That is the power of reading. Yet, these days, I find myself unable to shut down enough to truly hear the silent voice of the characters. I sit with a book in my lap and I keep seeing the words but they hardly register. I am distracted, disconnected from the art. Why? Because there seems to be some much else to do, so many other things calling for my attention – the mails, the posts, the tweets – and the constant need to be on the move. It is like I am missing something when in fact like David puts it, “ It is mostly just a series of disconnected riffs and fragments that add up to the anxiety of the age.”

Far more than pleasure or enjoyment, Andy Miller points out, the art of reading takes patience, solitude and contemplation. And this, we are slowly losing in our world today. Instant gratification makes patience really hard to cultivate and the ever evolving connectivity makes solitude almost impossible. There are virtual assistants that help with just about everything. Yet, now more than ever, we truly need to connect to that deep part of us, to channel our creative imagination and to consider experiences that are vastly different than ours in silent contemplation; it is in this regard that we must rediscover the true art of reading.

• Wale-Olaitan is of the Faculty of Education, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria.