I should have a more coherent post on this topic in a while. A book I want, but can't quite justify buying this month (our Amazon.com bill is going to be inordinately high), is The Well-Educated Mind. I downloaded the sample to my Kindle, and read the first two and a quarter chapters. Mostly what I've been thinking about, beyond the idea of reading classical literature to become a more educated person (I'd like to have a broader base), is how Bauer describes the process of serious reading. She says there are three steps:
1. Reading to find out what the piece actually says--Bauer, because of her classical education background, calls this a "grammar" reading for technical reasons that don't really concern us. This is when you read and, as much as you can, keep a neutral frame of mind.
2. Reading to decide whether what the piece says is true or false (as far as it goes--obviously we don't expect a novel to be factually true, but we can evaluate whether the way it paints men and women is accurate or faulty).
3. Only after doing the above do you read to decide your own reaction to the piece. Ideally in this stage you speak or write about your conclusions, as clearly and elegantly as possible, in order to organize your response.
Most people, Bauer points out, jump straight to number 3 and start reacting to a piece. In my opinion, this comes both from our education ("Write a paragraph about how the poem made you feel") and our own inclinations--we all tend to think that our experience of something is the only experience that really counts.
For instance, I remember a column I read by a black editorial writer several years ago. The writer was aghast because a group of sincere but misguided people had raised a hoopla about a public official who used the word "niggardly" in speaking to his staff about budgets. "Niggardly" sounds a lot like a very offensive word, but is unrelated to it either in meaning or in derivation. (A bit like "formicate"--to move in an ant-like fashion--and "fornicate"--a word everyone knows.) The editorial writer bemoaned that people were reacting emotionally to a situation they didn't understand, and then continuing to react emotionally even after they had the situation explained to them. The official ended up resigning,
It occurred to me that the explanation for the above misunderstanding, and a lot of other misunderstandings, might be just that people genuinely don't know there is a difference between what a writer says and their own reaction to it.
Very often, it seems, we read or listen to someone without paying any kind of attention. We are so inward-focused that we're watching our own reactions and planning what we're going to say instead of being sure we actually understand what the other person is saying. I always thought this was sort of on purpose--that the person busily constructing their refutation of what I was saying instead of paying attention was just being perverse. It never occurred to me before that they might not actually know how to listen to me--or even realize that they're not listening.
So as a little gift to anyone who reads this blog, do me a favor. (I'm going to consciously work on doing this myself, as I read.) Next time you listen to a politician, preacher, or your boss, or even just that guy at the coffee shop who insists on telling everyone What's Wrong With Kids These Days, before you react, even in your mind, be sure you know what the person is actually saying. (Note: being able to state clearly what the other person is arguing does not mean you agree with them, it just means you paid attention.) It might just revolutionize the way you see the world.
Cheers,
Breanna
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