The Importance of Reading Books in My Life

Reading is a fundamental component of life, one I often take for granted. As important as all forms of communication are to my daily functioning, I find the written word particularly essential. Letters, words, and sentences are like magic formulas. Besides the obvious necessities of comprehending traffic signs and test instructions, these individual lines, dots, and loops, when assembled correctly, are able to tell stories, reveal truths, and spread knowledge. Through the written word, information is saved from being forgotten, presented it in a concise fashion, and allowed to be easily accessed.

Reading conveys emotions, and has the power to start and end governments. It can even create worlds. As I have grown to realize, a person who is able to write effectively possesses enormous power. With such power, writers also have great responsibility, an obligation to better human intellect and advance humanity's knowledge of the world.

While reading an article about the influence of the Internet on the way we think, I was surprised to learn that many great thinkers originally opposed the manufacture of books.

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Because information could be stored, they said, we would no longer feel the need to memorize information, and our minds would become weak and lazy. Then, when the printing press was invented, scholars expressed concern at the increasing amount of cheap literature that would not contribute to the betterment of human intellect. Before movable type, every book was a treasured piece of art. After the invention, virtually any information could be mass produced. Philosophers grew afraid that some material that was best left unread could now be distributed to unwary consumers.

This was not a wish to oppress the world through ignorance, but to protect Homer and Shakespeare from competing with erotic novels and dull discourses on obscure topics. Though these are excellent objections which certainly should be considered, in analyzing them one must not fail to realize the benefits of the written word.

I cannot say that I was a particularly precocious young reader, but as soon as I grasped what books could offer I was hooked. I started with fiction, as everyone does. It was easy to read and entertaining. My eyes were quick, and I could read the entire Chronicles of Narnia within two weeks while still recalling detail. After I finished, I would think about how a particular book progressed, sometimes considering what would happen if some major event were changed. I never thought that I could make the story better, but drew enjoyment from imagining how a change would play out. Perhaps this has helped me in making decisions; even though I do not make them quickly, I am able to consider the consequences of my actions. In fact, most of my deep thinking skills are founded in these primitive reflections.

I soon was encouraged to start reading nonfiction books. I didn't take to them easily, for most of them were slow and ponderous and did not cry out to be finished quite like the fictional novels I was used to. Once I discovered topics that interested me, however, I realized that nonfiction taught me so much. Herman Melville was wonderfully complemented by Men, Ships, and the Sea. I gained a new respect for the dwarves of The Lord of the Rings after I learned why starting a fire with flint and steel was so difficult. The United States Navy in World War Two taught me both practical knowledge about history and that war is not quite as glorious as fiction would have us imagine. I did not like everything I learned; a lot of it went against what I had previously thought and believed. A little of it was just plain boring, and after a few chapters I gave up. As I read and became more mature, however, I realized that learning about a subject from a different point of view is very beneficial. It allows one to understand why others think the way they do, and to empathize with them. If we are able to read with a truly open mind, considering perspective even has the power to eliminate prejudice and stereotyping.

Of course, these realizations did not make everything wholly clear. Especially in older books, the metaphorical descriptions of characters were confusing. Who has a horse face that I know? How does a reedy voice sound? Why is it accepted that members of different countries gesticulate more than other? These descriptions, however, forced me to look more insightfully at everyone I encountered. They gave insight into not only their physique but also their personality.

Despite these miniscule setbacks I could imagine other experiences very well. Books allowed me to explore the whole gamut of human existence, from slums to palaces and from cosmopolitans to provincial villagers. I am not a traveler. I have never physically been to New York City, the beach, or a foreign country. Yet, I use books to travel, and through countless amazing authors I have been able to experience the world and the people who have lived in it. I have a concept of how one should act in India, what was expected of a man in Native American society, and where I would avoid trouble in a medieval town. I have also lived with a wolf pack in Alaska, paced the quarterdeck of an English frigate as it battled a Spanish ship-of-the-line in the Pacific, and stood alongside Dr. Watson and Mr. Homes through their innumerable escapades. I could feel the cold, smell the powder smoke, and smile at the exchanges between Holmes and Watson. Each book, either fiction or nonfiction, placed another glorious piece in the puzzle of my understanding of the world. I shall never finish it, even if I could read every book ever written.

Granted, I would have been able to progress even further in my studies if not for the intervention of the Internet. I didn't take easily to computers, but the growing importance of them to schoolwork necessitated their use. Opening the box to my own personal computer closed the coffin of my golden age of reading. At the time, however, I didn't realize that it was a coffin; I expected to fill it with information.

The Internet made it easy to find, and indeed my knowledge of current events and small facts grew exponentially. Unfortunately, this ease of discovery also meant that I became easily sidetracked by tempting links and persuaded to jump back and forth between articles if a page did not load quickly enough to finish scrolling. Now, when I try to sit down to read a book, I have a hard time focusing completely for more than a few pages. All this was brought to my attention by the article noted in the second paragraph, and while I am not as constantly connected as some of the people featured, my use has shortened my attention span and sucked me into its world. It is indeed another world, just as much as a book is. I am no longer able to read a book for hours on end; to engross myself in it so completely that I miss the call for supper. Perhaps it is because I am getting older, but I find it more likely that the cause is spending too much time on the Internet.

It is essential that I change my habits. Reading, especially of the deeply engrossed sort, is essential to human intellect. Fiction relaxes, stimulates creativity, and builds vocabulary, while nonfiction teaches and informs us about ourselves and our world. When a healthy balance is reached between the two, we are able to draw upon concrete facts, hypothetical situations, and tests of character in a manner that allows us to reflect on both what we read and how it applies to us. I realize now the importance of that reflecting to becoming wiser beings. Reading allows us to delve into a carefully constructed, deliberate world of whatever the author is writing about, a skill that, if lost, decreases our capacity to think deeply about our world, our surroundings, and ourselves.