I have a calendar sent to me from a writers’ resource blog, listing all the book-related holidays in a year. I have no idea how legitimate it is, as most of these I’ve never heard of, like Ballpoint Pen Day (June 10) or Hobbit Day (September 22). March seems especially blessed, encompassing thirteen special days and five designated week celebrations (my favorite: Return Borrowed Books from March 1-7). It is such a literary month that it has been assigned no less than three month-long foci: March into Literacy, National Reading Month, and Small Press Month.
I find it delightful that someone out there is fostering reading and writing, at a time when statisticians warn literacy is becoming a lost art. It seems we Americans, at least, need encouragement. Between 2003 and 2023, reading for pleasure dropped by 40%, leaving just 16% of the population engaging in this practice. Countless societal pressures and temptations contribute to this trend. But I wonder if how we advocate for reading is perhaps failing to address the root of the problem.
I belong to several groups online which promote reading by giving rewards (digital badges, but also discounts for more books). They bestow these perks based on how many days or the number of books one reads. Competitive reading isn’t a new practice in our society. I remember in grade school receiving points for the difficulty of books read, as well as quantity— and my pride when I got into the ‘top’ group.
But I wonder, is how many books or how fast we consume them adequate as measurements of literacy? Why, after all, do we read?
Some might answer that question by saying we do it to gain information, and that is partially true. But for me, it has never been solely about gathering facts. Reading delights me through immersion in another world, meeting fascinating characters, and being challenged by the writer’s unique thought processes. It’s a gut experience, more than a head trip… and requires focus and intentional time.
I realize, though, that while I follow this insight when I’m studying theology or history, I gulp down mysteries and sci fi. I race through fiction as if I don’t have time to spend on ‘recreational reading’, squeezing in a half-hour here and there between meetings and chores. Often, I’m so eager to see how the story ends I skim over beautiful composition and detailed character development.
Despite my tendency to sprint through fiction, though, the insights into the human situation, our grappling with life and death in all dimensions, gleaned from novels usually stick with me at a deeper level than any intentionally instructive tome. I need to prioritize this genre just as much as non-fiction works.
Lent concludes soon, and those following the Christian calendar will wrap up our penitential practices. I think, however, I’ll test myself with a new discipline—a joyful one—for Eastertide. I vow to set a time each day to savor the fiction I’m reading, to dive deep into the characters and stories, and let them challenge my limited vision.
Perhaps by encouraging a slow reading movement we can all do more to promote literacy than by competitive reading. If nothing else, we’ll enjoy it more.
Leave a Reply