I have a confession to make. I am a literary omnivore, so much so that on any given week I typically have three or more books, fiction or non-fiction, recent and classic that I am in the midst of reading, and I am not ashamed to admit it. Some are gifts or loaners or from our public library and others are a happy surprise, the kind that comes from belonging to a book club. There are twelve of us in this club, all men, all voracious readers, which is the only thing we have in common.
Although my tenure is more recent-- were you to glance at the list of books read, 300 or so since 1996 —you would find the usual suspects, Pulitzer & Man Booker winners along with NYT picks and a great many titles you probably wouldn’t expect. That is what makes it interesting. I know for certain there are books I would never have come upon, never have chosen to read were it not for the indulgence of other men's tastes and curiosities. My fellow members are not only readers, they are collectors. Lined bookshelves are a prominent feature in each of their homes.
My own library in comparison is spare, the product of having moved too many times in my adult life. Perhaps several hundred books remain, each marking a moment in time in my life. I gave hundreds to our public library some years ago having run out of room to keep them all. I kept those I wanted to read again, and I do, some many times over. A favorite book revisited never fails to reveal a new dimension, it is an old friend eager to share secret.
My romance with reading began early—as soon as I was introduced to the public library in my neighborhood. I was about six and that is when my omnivorous habits took root. I devoured the relatively small children’s section in short order and moved on to adult books on topics I was particularly interested in learning about. I read eight or ten books a week but many were unsatisfying. I wanted stories I could sink my teeth into. I say stories even though I read histories, texts, and a lot of non-fiction books too—if they were rich in meaning and had something to teach me. Eventually, a kindly librarian steered me toward those great works everyone should read in their lifetime, and I found in them the substance I had been missing. No one, I repeat, no one ever said to me don’t read this book, if anything they encouraged the pursuit.
A good book is one I never want to end and yet cannot wait to finish. Good books never fail me and great ones invite me to live within their story. The best, take me somewhere I have never been, offer me a glimpse of other places and times, and a walk in the shoes of men and women quite unlike me. That is the author’s gift to the reader—to experience life unlike our own yet find that human thread that runs through us all.
To live, however vicariously, in another’s mind is a wonderful and fearsome thing. I know of no other way to do this except by reading, and in the process, what unfolds are dimensions I would never have otherwise known. Reading is a wellspring of empathy. When misguided individuals abetted by attention seeking politicians ban books, tell schools and libraries what they can allow children to read they claim to stand on some moral high ground, but it is one of their own making. Shutting the door on imagination, denying the existence of others unlike us but so preciously human will not improve the world but it will extinguish the light of understanding that reading kindles. Closing our minds to the inner life of men and women renders us incapable of understanding ourselves.
Banning books will not stop our children from experiencing ideas and lives that some consider dangerous or different, but it will leave them unequipped to navigate in a complex and every changing world. At best it will cause them to wonder what they have been prevented from learning, at worst it will leave them devoid of understanding, compassion, and empathy, while perpetuating ignorance and blindness. Victor Hugo said, “To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.” The choice is ours—to spread that light far and wide or douse the flame and live in darkness.
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