Don’t read the ‘best’ books; read the ones that resonate for you
I recently made a new acquaintance at a group dinner, and when he found out that I am a professional book recommender for a major metropolitan newspaper, he had something to confess to me.
He said that sometimes, based on a review in a culturally significant publication, he will buy a book, but that the experience of reading the book that has been hailed as important is less than satisfying.
This gentleman wanted to know if there is something wrong with him, if he is missing something, perhaps even if he is somehow defective.
Now, this is an extraordinarily accomplished person, a lifelong reader and appreciator of culture. Lest you doubt, the group outing that had brought us together was to see a movie at a French film festival.
That’s right:The movie had subtitles. And we liked it.
There is nothing wrong with this gentleman or anyone else who is nonplussed by a book that has been widely hailed by the critical establishment. Frankly, I am distressed that someone who is such an engaged and eager reader would consider such a thing, but his questioning points toward one of the problems of a society that sometimes seeks to make such clear distinctions between “high” and “low” culture.
If a stringed instrument is at rest and you play the proper tone at the proper frequency, the strings start to vibrate. This is known as “resonance.” As I see it, readers are similar. We are strings at rest in search of the books with which we resonate, and what produces this phenomenon in different individuals is as variable as we would expect and demand from a diverse and vibrant culture.
It is even more complicated, because what resonates changes over time. When I was 3, I could page back and forth through “Richard Scarry’s Busy Day” for hours, fascinated by the lives the anthropomorphized creatures were living. Now, not so much.
Some of the masterpieces I was expected to read in graduate school felt like a chore. I remember wondering if I didn’t have what it took if I kept falling asleep through Thackeray’s “Vanity Fair.” I’ve kept all those books and sometimes will pluck one off the shelf and find the dog-eared page where I gave up on it. Starting back at the beginning, I will be captivated and wonder what was wrong with me 20-plus years ago.
The answer, again, is nothing. It is tempting to think that I’ve matured, but I think the reality is that the context is different. The stress and pressure of school, combined with concerns about my worthiness, put me in a state that made achieving resonance much more difficult.
I’d ask those who sometimes find critically heralded books wanting, but who also believe that students must read a particular set of books to be considered properly “educated,” if there isn’t room for reconsideration. Might there be a benefit to giving young people the same kind of freedom as readers that we exercise for ourselves?
There is literally no point to elevating a particular class of literature as most worthy. Sure, what tends to be considered for major awards and the best-of-the-year lists tends to share some traits, but even within those selections one finds incredible diversity.
Reading is not a test. The point (for most of us) is not to think we’re there to judge a book or for the book to judge us.
If a book isn’t resonating, that’s fine. Put it down, and search for something else that meets your frequency.