Books: the last refuge of the deranged
Madness is all in the mind
Acts 26:24-25: Festus launches the accusation that "Much learning is driving you mad." To which Paul casually replies, "I am not mad,...but speak the words of truth and reason." Assuredly Paul's words sounded as if they were full of truth and reason to himself; however, in Festus' ears they sounded like pure crazytown. It is no different than when Don Quixote valiently launches into one of his flowery speeches of chivalry to a goatherd or a Basque. He is absurdly funny (until he becomes pitiable) in his lunacy. Yet, he too would say that he speaks the words of "truth and reason." How do we know who has truly been driven mad by too much reading?
Appeal to a text
For both Paul and Don Quixote there is a powerful camaraderie in the shared reading of the text. In the above passage from Acts, Paul continues his assertion of truth and reason by appealing to King Agrippa's familiarity with a text when he closes with the rhetorical question, "King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets?" In other words, the text of the prophets is one with which Festus has no familiarity. His lack of familiarity with the text causes him to dismiss speech he cannot relate to or understand as the ravings of a madman. Similarly, those with whom Don Quixote interacts are limited by their understanding and reading of books of chivalry. Those with no referent see only the most absurd.
First of two queries
Does extensive reading thereby limit our ability to relate with those around us? I think I most often hear that reading broadens our understanding and extends our world-view; however, the love of a book is rooted in that book's ability to somehow communicate to the very personal and individualistic you. The book has to "get" you or "express" you or somehow be saying something you wanted to say even if all you wanted to say was "I need to escape sometimes" or "There is a dark world that intrigues me." Books, by nature, seem to foster companionship. I have yet to meet a person who says, "I loved this book so much, I don't want to share it with anyone else. I wish I was the only person in the world who read this." Is this why we avid readers so ardently advocate for others to pick up the books we love? Is it really a selfish impulse that says I want to relate to you...I want you to understand me...I don't want to be crazy?
Query the second
As people whose faith and identity is rooted in a text, do we a) avoid reading it because the very reading of it makes us even more distinctive than our, oh, um, well dress? and/or b.) have a deep-seated need to get others reading it so that we can have some commonality of understanding?
posted by Marjorie at
7/23/2007 10:14:00 AM
3 Comments:
Hmmm . . . interesting musing. Does avid reading limit our ability to relate with those around us? Perhaps, but it I think maybe it broadens our ability to relate with the other well-read among us. It's like the amount of reading is directly proportional to relatability with other avid readers, and inversely proportional to relatability with the non-avid. (Yes, "relatability" is a neologism. lol.)
Also, do you notice how the mention of books is almost a dialect among the avid? Like, if a friend is telling you about a personal problem or a thought they have about something, one of the first ways you try to communicate your opinion about the matter is by mentioning a book? If they've read the book, then you automatically have a shared referent, but if they haven't then you almost feel as if you are at a loss for words, and end up telling them what the book is about anyway? I just find that happening to me a lot, and I wonder if it has to do with the . . . let's coin a new term here . . . Quixote effect.
Oh, and que fabuloso that I've inspired you to read "El Quijote" as they refer to it in Spanish! There are scholars who devote their whole career to nothing but the work of Cervantes. They call them "cervantistas." (Just thought you'd like to know. :-)
I think the ratio you've laid out is spot-on! I love it (and drew it with mathematical symbols--it's pretty), but it makes me wonder--to what extent should relatability determine my identification with groups? Also, I had heard that Faulkner read "El Quijote" as regularly as some report reading the Bible, but I was not aware that there were entire communities of people who identified themselves by their avid appreciation of this text!
Marjorie,
This was great! You do such a good job at seeing something fascinating in the mundane. I agree with Chantall that we converse through what we read - I mean to say, that's the basis of our conversation, what we're reading at the time. I did that just yesterday - spoke to the doctor based on what I'd been reading.
I also think that readers are often limited in their conversation with others because, unless the person is a reader, there's not a lot to talk about. I love my "reading" friends!
Ann
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