As the number of book reviews on this blog approaches 200, there’s never been an explanation here of why I read quite so much.
I haven’t always been a bookworm. I really only started to read more extensively and intensively since I finished all forms of examinations when I qualified as a chartered accountant. Through my higher and postgraduate education, I was far more focused on my studies that I barely had time to read. What little I did was often of a low quality. For example, most of the 4 years of my degree were supplemented by Stephen King’s The Dark Tower series. While the first instalment, The Gunslinger, was very good and the follow up was OK, but the rest was an awful drag and I’ve been put off fantasy ever since. This is why, despite numerous recommendations, I have never read any of the volumes of George Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series.
This might seem out of character, as in my youth I loved Frank Herbert’s Dune series. I read the whole lot between my GCSE mock exams and the finals, subsequently dropping a grade in nearly every subject.
It was around that formative time that I learned to hate Jane Austen. We studied Pride and Prejudice to death, sucking out any joy that might have been there. I’m still no fan of hers and have no desire to pick up Northanger Abbey any time within the next few decades.
I suppose the main reason I started to read a lot was because of my commuting. At the time I worked as an auditor so rarely worked in the same place for more than a week at a time. I tended to either be in central or south London, Kent or various industrial estates around Sussex. Spending upwards of 3 hours a day on various trains can be rather boring, even if some of the countryside around the South Downs is rather picturesque.
Perhaps it was this rural world that I would pass through on my way to a factory floor that drew me to Thomas Hardy. Though not all have been reviewed here, I’ve read most of Hardy’s work. The only extant published novels of his which I haven’t yet read are: A Laodicean, Two on a Tower and The Hand of Ethelberta. As I saw dwellings other than those of a city or a large town, I could imagine the characters making their way in life in the very locations that I passed, separated only by time.
But fiction is not my only passion. My primary passion in reading has been science. It’s a peculiar consequence of when I set up this blog that there aren’t more science books listed. The fact is, I had increased my level of reading before I started reviewing. So it may be a case that if I run out of good science books to review that I’ve found in a shop recently, then I may re-read some of the great works that don’t currently have a review on this website. For example, if you look at the index by author, you may get the impression that I haven’t read much Richard Feynman. That is a false impression; I simply read most of his more popular works before I started this blog.
This is all before I get to the category that forms the majority of my reading: christianity. I think the reason why I have read so much more on christianity in recent years than any other subject is because I’m catching up. I used to pretty much study the bible either by myself or in church and had quite a small selection of study guides. It wasn’t really until I started to read around a little more widely that I began to get a glimpse of how much more I didn’t know or didn’t understand. So I began to consume theology and apologetics quite voraciously.
This then gets to the heart of my current reason for why I read so much these days. It is to try to fill the gaps in my understanding in order that I may hold informed opinions and make informed decisions. To be somewhat self critical, this is because of an awareness that others are almost invariably better informed than I on matters about which we converse. It is rather a treadmill where nomatter how much you learn, there is always someone who can simply stroll past you. So I admit to a kind of envy of the learning of others. I see myself as a child with short legs who has to put in a lot of effort to run, just to keep up with the long-legged stroll of their parents.
This way of thinking about reading has then extended into the other non fiction. This used to be a casual break from the more serious reading that I did, but of late it has extended into more learning, particularly about history, philosophy and economics. There is no real end goal to this. I am not aiming to get a point where I could claim “I know it all” or to be more informed than anyone else. Others might consider me well read or reasonably well informed, but many of those same people have read plenty that I haven’t, know things which I don’t or have life experience that I will never have.
Yet at the same time, it would be unreasonable to play myself down too much, that would be false modesty. I am reasonably well informed on the subjects in which I am interested, for someone who has had the opportunities in life that have been afforded to me. My point is that this cannot be grounds for complacency or to arrogantly think that I know more than any person I may pass on the street. I’m just trying to keep up, and books are the easiest means available to me.
Contrast this with travel. I am very poorly travelled compared to many people. Having only been on overseas holidays twice in the last 15 years, there are many who have had great wealth that have allowed them gap years, annual holidays or the like in which they have gained far more life experience than I have. My exposure to other cultures comes through words, translated into English, that have come mostly from single sources. I have never laid eyes on many of the great sights that the world has to offer and probably never will. While such travel is limited to the very privileged, reading is far more democratic.
That’s my motivation for reading. What’s yours?