A Book in Hand


I was going to write about the importance, nay the necessity of reading; of being critical of what you read, of enjoying what you read, of reading things that might disturb you or upset you. I was going to suggest you read things you might not like, if only to give them a chance.

I was going to say that by doing so you'll get a second opinion; that by reading both fiction and nonfiction your mind opens, that reading gives cause to listen, pause to stop and think before acting. I was going to say reading gives you a base of knowledge to work from wherein you can act upon and finally make what you determine is a right decision.

I was going to say that reading will show you that there are others out there who share your point of view, so that you aren't alone but that there are just as many out there who think differently and that there is no reason to fear or hate them because they hold to something you don't.

I was going to try to answer those who say: I don't like reading, I'd rather do something else with my free time, I read all day at work, reading is boring, I don't have time to read.

My reply to the first statement, I don't like reading, fast became something of a research paper on brain function, how we learn to read, reading skill and reading as a process, reading to inform and reading for pleasure. I was several pages into answering only the first of several overlapping statements of why people don't read. I put an editorial blue pencil to the whole thing when I realized two things.

1) I'm preaching to the choir
2) Those of you who read but don't like it. Don't know what you're missing.