Showing posts with label Reading Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reading Life. Show all posts

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Hold on! You mean I could get ...
...paid for this?

George Orwell on the pathetic life of the professional book reviewer:

The best practice, it has always seemed to me, would be simply to ignore
the great majority of books and to give very long reviews--1,000 words is
a bare minimum--to the few that seem to matter. Short notes of a line or
two on forthcoming books can be useful, but the usual middle-length review
of about 600 words is bound to be worthless even if the reviewer genuinely
wants to write it. Normally he doesn't want to write it, and the week-in,
week-out production of snippets soon reduces him to the crushed figure in
a dressing-gown whom I described at the beginning of this article.
However, everyone in this world has someone else whom he can look down
on, and I must say, from experience of both trades, that the book
reviewer is better off than the film critic, who cannot even do his work
at home, but has to attend trade shows at eleven in the morning and, with
one or two notable exceptions, is expected to sell his honour for a glass
of inferior sherry.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

What good is fiction?

Fiction is the gateway drug to reading, and reading is civilization.

Neil Gaiman explains:

I was once in New York, and I listened to a talk about the building of private prisons – a huge growth industry in America. The prison industry needs to plan its future growth – how many cells are they going to need? How many prisoners are there going to be, 15 years from now? And they found they could predict it very easily, using a pretty simple algorithm, based on asking what percentage of 10 and 11-year-olds couldn’t read. And certainly couldn’t read for pleasure.
It’s not one to one: you can’t say that a literate society has no criminality. But there are very real correlations.
And I think some of those correlations, the simplest, come from something very simple. Literate people read fiction.


Thursday, March 24, 2011

Silent Reading in Antiquity.

I am one of those who may have been hoodwinked into the myth that no one read silently to themselves in antiquity.  I say "may" because I'm not clear how much of a myth the myth is.

The usual proof-text of this is a passage in St. Augustine's "The Confessions," where St. Augustine supposedly expresses his marvel at St. Ambrose reading a letter silently to himself.

But it seems that there is a body of evidence that silent reading was common:

It is a myth that the ancients only or normally read out loud - a myth we appear to want to believe, since the evidence against it is strong. In Euripides's Hippolytus, the King, Theseus, confronted with the corpse of his wife, Phaedra, finds a letter fastened to her hand. While the Chorus expresses its foreboding, Theseus silently reads the letter (which contains Phaedra's false accusation that Hippolytus has raped her). Then he has an outburst, whose meaning takes force from his silent reading. The letter, he says, "shrieks, it howls horrors insufferable ... a voice from the letter speaks ..."


Plutarch, in a speech called "On the Fortune of Alexander", tells us that, when Alexander the Great was silently reading a confidential letter from his mother, Hephaestion his friend "quietly put his head beside Alexander's and read the letter with him; Alexander could not bear to stop him, but took off his ring and placed the seal on Hephaestion's lips". Plutarch tells this story four times: the point is that Alexander does not have a fit of temper at his friend's presumption: he behaves "like a philosopher" simply reminding his friend that such letters are highly confidential.

I consulted Alberto Manguel's A History of Reading (Flamingo), which was published in the same year as Gavrilov's and Burnyeat's articles. Manguel believes that the passage in Augustine is "the first definite instance [of silent reading] recorded in western literature". He is well aware of the evidence to the contrary, but he finds it unconvincing. Thus Manguel: "According to Plutarch, Alexander the Great read letter from his mother in silence in the fourth century BC, to the bewilderment of his soldiers." [My italics.] But these bewildered soldiers are Manguel's importation. They have been brought into the story in order to make it seem exceptional. Manguel shamelessly fudges the argument.

In order to read aloud well, especially when a text is written without breaks between words (as was classical practice), it seems important to possess the gift to read ahead simultaneously. Silent reading is a necessary adjunct to the kind of reading aloud for sound and sense Nietzsche admired. What shocked Augustine was that Ambrose read silently in front of visitors and refused to share his reading matter, and his thoughts, with them. But Augustine was perfectly capable of silent reading, and describes a key moment in his conversion as a moment of silent reading with a friend. As Gavrilov concludes: "... the phenomenon of reading itself is fundamentally the same in modern as in ancient culture. Cultural diversity does not exclude an underlying unity."
On the other hand, this book - points to the development of "word spacing" and devotional reading as elements of silent reading in 12th Century Scholasticism. (Referring to Paul Saenger, Space Between Words: The Origins of Silent Reading (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997).)

This blog makes a couple of interesting observations:

Saenger argues that the shift from oral to print culture-- or rather from oral to silent reading, with various other attendant changes-- was brought on by the adoption of word spacing from the 1100s to 1400s, not the printing press. If this is so, then word spacing deserves to be regarded as an innovation on par with Gutenberg's invention of the printing press.


Roman authors like Plutarch and Cicero praised reading aloud as an aid to memory, and internal evidence suggests that letters and orations were meant to be spoken rather than read. Further, "books of the ancient Romans were highly unsuited to visual reading and study," containing "neither punctuation, distinction between uppercase and lowercase letters, nor word separation." This and other evidence suggests that "silent reading was an uncommon practice in classical antiquity." (370)
And:

Word spacing began as an aid to reading aloud, but it soon gave rise to two new practices: silent copying and (paradoxically) silent reading. Scribes who copied texts were supposed to do their work in silence. Previously they had developed means of copying in silence: most notably, such as breaking texts into lines of 10-15 characters, which they could remember in their entirety. Adding word spacing "increased reading speed and permitted more rapid copying." (378) The enforcement of silence became stricter as word spacing diffused through scriptoria, and scribal iconography shifts from showing scribes receiving dictation from angels, to scribes copying from texts.


Reading likewise became a silent activity, we evidenced by changing interpretation of the rule of silence. Before about the 10th century, "oral group reading and composition [were] in practice no more considered a breach of silence than were confession or the recitation of prayers. Cluniac monks were judged to have violated their vows of silence only when a word they spoke was not written in the text." (383) But later, "silence" comes to mean real silence.

Once reading became silent, the design of spaces for reading-- namely libraries-- could also change. Carrels had been developed in the early Middle Ages to let monks read aloud or dictate, and few reference books had been needed in a period in which memorization of Scripture was the central intellectual challenge of a life. In the late 13th century, libraries were relocated to central halls, and "furnished with desks, lecterns, and benches where readers sat next to one another. " (396) Services also changed: lending periods grow, as readers are able to work through books more quickly, and "reference books were chained to the lecterns so that they could always be consulted in the library." (396)
So, there seems to be something of a debate on the subject.

Silent reading is also linked to the "interiority" of modernity, the experience of modern people that they are a self.  This is also supposed to be a novelty of modernity, although how much cash value this notion has is questionable since even illiterate people must understand themselves as being unique and individual.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Amazon delivers.

Amazon has just delivered a softwar package that allows Kindle users to organize their books into collections.

Since I've got 17 pages of books, articles, magazines and pdfs on my Kindle, that is a very good thing.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

This is why my "To be re-read" pile is larger than my "To be read" pile.

According to Malcolm Gladwell - a journalist and author:

Re-reading is much underrated. I've read The Spy Who Came in from the Cold once every five years since I was 15. I only started to understand it the third time.
I've had the same experience with "The Confessions" of St. Augustine.

Monday, January 05, 2009

How to Watch a Video

I've recently read Mortimer Adler's "How to Read a Book" and I give it "two thumbs up." It is the kind of book that high school students should be required to read before they start their studies so that they can get the most out of their education. It's also very insightful for those of us who are veteran readers in our own right but want to sharpen our game or find out why we do what we do. What it also is, not surprisingly given Adler's Aristotelian background, is a brilliant discusion of the "virtues" that make up excellence as a student and a reader, or any other worthwhile habit.

Here is the original video of Charles Van Doren and Mortimer Adler discussing their book.
 
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