by Debbie Bateman
photo by Merve Bayar on pexels.com
First a Reader
I wonder how anyone could become a writer without first being a reader. Where else do we learn how to write? Why else would we want to? It was only after I fell in love with Sylvia Plath, John Irving and Carol Shields that I began to wonder if I too might one day be a writer.
Decades later, I need reading as much as ever and I try to ingest a balanced diet. When I read, I feed myself not only words and sentences, but examples of how a book or a story can be structured and tasty ideas that transform with digestion into creative energy. For sure, I’ve noticed an increased fluidity in vocabulary and style, not to mention closer access to imagination, during periods when I’m reading a lot.
About Those Reading Habits
More than half of my reading is for research. I read a lot of psychology, and materials on the craft of writing, as well as books about Buddhism. At any given time, I’ll have four or five of those sorts of books going and I also subscribe to magazines that I read cover to cover. These books tend to be best consumed a little at a time, so that I can try to apply each idea while it is foremost in my mind. It may take months or years to work my way through this type of book. I can tell how important the reading experience was to me by the number of tags I’ve inserted on the pages and the yellow highlighting.
As for the other half of my reading, I hope for fiction or nonfiction that shakes me up, complicates life, and causes me to feel intensely. Gone are the days when I only appreciate books that I like. Lately, I’m developing a genuine appreciation for books I do not like. Irritation can be the start of meaningful change. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, any strong reaction is a success for the writer and an experience worth having for the reader.
Oh my, I’d almost forgotten to mention poetry, which is likely because I rarely read an entire book of poetry in a single go. Instead, I tend to buy poetry collections by writers I admire and read them in a random fashion one poem at a time.
Reading Helps Us Stay Human
One of my dearest friendships began with a book. I was using an exercise bike in a fitness centre when the woman beside me noticed I was reading “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold, and she asked if I thought the book was dark. I said, “No, not at all.” The subject matter is dark, and yet the main character’s experiences especially towards the end of the novel are filled with light, at least for me. The woman exercising next to me was happy to find someone who shared her reaction. So began a lively exchange of reading materials. Many years later, we still book bomb each other, and since we now live in different cities, we’ve also become pen pals the old-fashioned way with handwritten letters.
Recently, I joined a book club—the fourth one I’ve participated in over the years. Each book club has a different area of focus and atmosphere. This one is deliberately focused on encouraging inspired conversations to create a hopeful and compassionate world. We have diverse backgrounds and opinions, but share a mutual commitment to keeping an open mind. Such things keep me sane.
Nothing Restores Me More
For a while, especially during the pandemic, I watched a lot of TV. Without doubt, there are some excellent TV series being made. However, since cutting back on TV and reading more in the evenings, I’ve noticed that I feel more rejuvenated than I ever did after a watch.
I suspect that’s because reading demands fuller participation. We won’t remember the words or expand our creativity if a lot of the work is completed for us and all we have to do is sit there and watch. In reading a book, we make a film inside our minds. We imagine whole lives and worlds based only on a collection of words. Each time a book is shared, the reader and the writer collaborate in the construction of meaning. I don’t know about you, but I find this exciting and magical and a reason to get up in the morning.
Learning to Care
Which brings me to what I think is the greatest joy of reading—empathy. By exploring other points of view and endeavouring to understand not just intellectually but in a sensory bodily way, I give exercise to a much needed muscle.
There are probably as many reasons and ways of reading as there are people doing it. What does reading mean to you? Feel free to add a comment below.
Happy reading!
Debbie Bateman 