Friday, July 9, 2010

As she writes the post, she smirks at her inner life….

I often narrate my own life as it happens.


For one, it makes my life seem more exciting and profound as I include fantastic adjectives and witty asides. It also helps me focus on the details of the experience, good practice for a hopeful writer. (Often, my inner dialogue will also expand on the moment, adding a little more of the theatrics or what I wish would happen next). What I’ve noticed is that this narrative style changes depending on the author with whom I’ve recently spent time--especially after reading those with more distinctive styles. For instance after reading Jane Austen, I find that people are “amiable” or “disagreeable” and I long for walks through estate gardens and writing long romantic/ extravagant letters--and am extremely disappointed there are no estates nearby or anyone who would appreciate a long extravagant letter. (Of course it is all spoken in an English accent because everything is more romantic with an English accent).

Not only do I narrate according to author, but I find that the emotions of a book stay with me for days, almost becoming my own. After reading Middlemarch, for instance, Will’s and Dorothea’s unrequited love kept entertaining thoughts in my head for days; I even reread their climactic moment several times--no one does unrequited love or sexual tension like the Victorians. But it is Like Water for Chocolate that could really take anyone’s inner life and light it afire. I don’t think anyone wants to know my inner thoughts after devouring that book in a night….

I am telling you this not because I want to expand on any of these inner narratives; really what I want to think about is what makes people good readers? I don’t think everyone can read books with the same thrilling intensity or pleasure as others. My brother, for instance, just couldn’t “get” Harry Potter (even when I said “it’s magic,” his response was “but why?”), and I have students who refuse to be moved by even the most shaking of books. And, it is these kids who can’t “feel” the books who also don’t understand it. So what makes a good reader?

I often tell my students that it is the responsibility of the reader to be manipulated by the author. Even the most intellectual (fiction) book still seeks more than just to make you think. And, I find too that the emotions books are trying to produce more often than not can lead to meaning. Empathy is an important key to being a critical reader. How can you see Shelley’s point if you don’t have any sympathy for Frankenstein’s monster? How can you understand Dorian’s choice if you can’t feel his fear? How can you comprehend the ending to Like Water for Chocolate if you can’t feel her pain and confusion throughout the book?

But of course, this ability to evoke feelings is why people have considered books dangerous for centuries. When you let them, books can have amazing power over people They stir up deep emotions that often impact our interaction with the “real” world in good and bad ways or create expectations, which again can be good or bad [The Female Quixote anyone?] ---just as Dorian Gray terrified me for a week (good and bad) or as Uncle Tom’s Cabin “started the war” (good) or as Twilight had tapped into the teenage girl’s desire for ridiculous romance (very bad)-- I think the list can go on and on. This idea obviously leads to many different avenues for discussion: How important is it to emphasize this aspect of reading to students? How dangerous is this element of fiction? Is Captain Beatty in Fahrenheit 451 right in his frustration with the fact that books make us confront ourselves in painful ways? Etc.. But my question, for those of us who can be stirred: can being a good, interactive reader be taught or were we born this way?

In other words, is it that books cause my romanticism or is it that my romanticism just makes me an amazing reader?



[An aside: sometimes my ability to become completely involved in a book can be my downfall. When I was 10 I really wanted to be Harry Potter and was completely disappointed when I came to grips with the fact that I was not really adopted and that I didn’t secretly belong to a wizarding family. This has happened more recently with other books, but I’ll stop here. It's already getting to personal.]

2 comments:

  1. I love how you've expressed your passion, Wollstonecraft! You make me even more excited about the possibilities and importance of reading. And thank you for making me laugh several times. You've successfully shown how fun AND emotional reading can be.

    Your questions remind me of the age-old queries: is someone's ability to learn intrinsic to her intellect or to her environment? Basically, if an individual is exposed to knowledge, can they become intelligent, or is her intellect formed by her natural ability? I think in both cases, it's probably a combination of both. I think you (W) are naturally predisposed to being an amazing reader, but you also cultivate your environment to allow you to be so. In other words, you've decided to develop your analytical abilities as a reader, and spend time reading, instead of, let's say, being a banker or a maid or something. Does that make sense? So, you are a winning combination, which subsequently makes you an awesome reader. Some people might have one or the other, or neither, but you have both! Yay!

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  2. While it would be a thrilling notion for any teacher to hope they can instill the sort of reading you're writing about, my experience as a reader has been that many times when I read a book, I've become ready for it in a sense. For instance, a friend lent me an Ayn Rand book my freshman year of college. I simply couldn't get through the first 25 pages, no matter how I tried. I'm sure that was disappointing for her on a personal level, because as I'm sure anyone who reads enough can attest, you truly find kindred spirits with those who can really share in the passion of a book. I tried rereading the book six years later on a whim and devoured the material, to the point where I immediately proceeded to read two more of her books thereafter. The difference was that coming out of high school, as a young boy, I feel I never experienced much of anything which makes life in high school so terrible or exciting. I never was in conflict with friends, I didn't suffer family trauma at the time, and I hadn't even kissed a woman, much less suffer the true pain of rejection. In the course of those six years, all that lack of experience caught up to me in spades, and as a reader, I find I'm more receptive to material that I can empathize with on a level of solitude on many levels: that there is chaos to this world, that hope can come of things amidst a flurry of great pain, that man's greatest tool must be himself or be relegated to the whims of society, as ruthless or compassion as it may seem fit. I don't think any book can ever be truly effective if you can't amplify the result of your experiences through the material being read. That's something that can't be taught or given, it's something that must be experienced. Your students can't be truly moved by these books until they understand fully the emotional concepts behind the events. Perhaps as a teacher, you can obviously teach them how to look for important moments, and this will hopefully in the future lay the groundwork for reading these books again through the lens of the life they've lived.

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