No one reads anymore.
This is a generalization. This is profoundly untrue. Many people read. Many people still love books. Many children love books. Many people read books every day in every country around the world.
But still, no one reads anymore.
Take our family. We own thousands of books. We read all the time. Someone is always walking around with a book (or their kindle) in their hands.
But. My husband, Sam, does not read. He attempts to read for about ten minutes each night, his head overwhelmed with work and exhaustion. He falls asleep. He's so busy. He's so tired. He has so many responsibilities weighing on him. I don't think he's finished a book this year. Not really reading.
My sixteen-year-old, Mary, reads when she is not in school. When she's in school, she reads when she has time, but she reads books for kids half her age that she's read a million times that do nothing but turn her brain off as she tunes out. Not really reading.
My fourteen-year-old, Lucy, reads when she's not in school, but since she spends 98% of her waking time studying for school, she essentially doesn't read. And when she does find little bits of time to read, she reads portions of her favorite books (usually the romantic parts). Not bad, but not really reading. Oh, and she has started to read Georgette Heyer, though she confesses she doesn't really think it's all that good. Not really reading.
My twelve-year-old, Calvin, never stops reading. But he does not choose what to read, he just reads whatever book is nearest his body. He reads picture books and graphic novels and random nonfiction and Flat Stanley and comic books and whatever happens to come his way. Not all of this is bad, but much of it is stupid or a waste of time. The minutes flit by. He has no idea what has happened. He's behind in whatever jobs/school work he is supposed to be doing. We don't play video games. We hardly ever watch movies and we don't own a TV. Reading this way is his TV, his wasted time, his nothing. Not really reading.
My ten-year-old, Shaemus, pretty much does the same thing as his brother, except that he is a natural goal setter and he feels very accomplished when he finishes a book. The reason he has not read better books lately
is entirely my fault. If I placed great books before him, he would read them. Only I haven't. The desire to do so hasn't hit me. Not really reading.
My eight-year-old, Flannery, is just starting to happily read novels for school. But when she's not in school, it is difficult to get her to read even picture books that have a lot of words in them. She is on a short picture book, graphic novel, comic book, binge. She is in it for the entertainment, not the content, not the story, not the meaning, not the purpose. Not really reading.
And that is the main problem. We are all reading to be entertained. To shut down our tired brains (or not so tired). To escape from the stresses of the day (though, in comparison to much of the world, our lives really aren't that stressful).
This brings me to me. My reading has tanked recently, growing more pathetic as the years have progressed. Rather unimpressed by much of what is being published both for children and adults, I have sought older books and found a few gems, but not many. I have not attempted any "classics". I have not approached anything that could be deemed depressing. I've been rereading books I have memorized—books that do not threaten my tranquility because I know exactly how they end. CONFESSION: I've been reading Georgette Heyer books for no good reason at all EXCEPT TO BE ENTERTAINED. To shut off my brain. To stop thinking.
This is about to change. That's why our family is doing this challenge.
Because of the 2016 Presidential Election.
I know I haven't mentioned the election yet. That's because I don't want to mention it. I don't want to think about it. I want to forget it ever happened. But it did happen, and I wonder if one of the main reasons it happened is because we, as a country, have shut off our brains. We read when we have to. We read books in order to get grades or to maybe because it is a NYTimes bestseller and everyone says it is so great. Or we read purely for mind-numbing entertainment. If we pick up a book at all.
Are we reading for empathy? Are we reading to better understand others? Are we reading for Love? Are we reading so that we become changed – different people, better people — by the end of our efforts?
Is reading an effort? Because it should be. Not a drag, but an effort. An effort that brings rewards that can, one person at a time, change the world. If we, as a nation, had been doing this sort of reading, could the 2016 election season have happened?
So our family of seven is going to read, collectively, 365 books this year (novels or nonfiction — not picture books). These books will be new to us. They will be good books, valuable books. Someone in the family will review one new book a day, starting Wednesday, November 16th.
The challenge is on.