As a natural-born lover of books, promoting this topic comes more easily for me than it would for any average millennial. Let me tell you, though, reading rocks.
I get it, you're reading right now ... but that's just not the type I'm talking about. Recently, scanning your eyes over short op-eds and cleverly-titled articles has become the full extent of what we consider "reading." We all want something new, something #relatable, something worth our while, something that we feel will ultimately be able to offer a contribution to our precious lives. And there's nothing really wrong with any of that. After all, I'm obviously one of the most active participants.
However, when debating the topic of reading qualifications, I will always strongly object to passing off this kind of half-hearted perusal as anything adequate. I hate to break it to you, but it's just not the type I've always held so near and dear.
In my opinion, reading novels, real paper-in-your-hands novels, is such an asset to personal development. The idea of getting out of your own world for a while, maybe even just a minute, in order to climb into a universe dreamt into existence by some of the most incredible minds in history is astounding. We have unlimited access to all of it, so why aren't we taking more advantage of the privilege?
Centuries upon centuries of human imagination, creativity, commentary on ironically recurring societal patterns and descriptive advice from experience have all been documented in the form of stories to be told and retold for our benefit ... and it has been all too forgotten as of late. What a shame.
Shakespeare, Hardy, Austen, Dostoyevsky, King, Twain, Dickens, Hemingway, Christie, Hawthorne, Rushdie, Steinbeck, Wilde, Tolkien, Plath, Faulkner, Rowling, Poe, Fitzgerald. All are names of those who have lived and thought and poured out their lives and thoughts onto paper, just in hopes of drawing in people like us to pick up the pages and ponder the words. Their work is considered "classic," which means that none was meant to be praised for just sitting on a shelf.
All of their books were written for a reason. Open them. They made the real #relatable contributions to our precious lives.
Anticipating common objections, I know what you're thinking. "Yeah, that sounds great and I'm sure this whole novel thing is awesome, but life is just too busy and there aren't enough hours in the day." Sound about right?
Life is crazy busy. We are creatures moving at a mile a minute. Whether we were made to move that fast or not, we don't seem to have much choice.
But here's the thing, there has to be a reason for Netflix being today's most popular pastime. In the midst of a world of chaos, loading and reloading social media feeds has become the outlet for most free time.
What I'm getting at is the present shift in priority. Reading has been replaced, and it's up to us to recognize that.
Who do you want to be? Someone who considers binge-watching a personal hobby and can quote an entire season of "Friends," or someone who engages in understanding by encountering the experiences of those who have gone before them?
If you're one whose palm simply refuses to pick up the pages, then more power to ya. Netflix can be your thing if you want. I won't stop you. I love Netflix and I appreciate it for all that it's worth.
I just felt, as a loyal follower to the reading realm, that I owed it to my beloved books to finally speak my mind on the matter, and perhaps remind a few interested people what they've been missing.
As the saying goes, "A reader lives a thousand lives before he [or she] dies." I don't know about you, but that kind of life sounds pretty wonderful, and anyone should be happy to devote part of themselves to an adventure so deserving.
-- A Believer In More Beautiful Sentences
