People have often
told me that I should not just sit around reading books. I should get out. My
former wife used to criticize me for not having any outside activities. She
said that I needed to get a life. I told her that I had a life of the mind. She
would stare at me in mute incomprehension. My brother told me that I needed to
join some outside organization. I asked, “Should I become a member of the
Kiwanis Club?”
When you immerse
yourself in books, you go through a door into a different world. It not only
gives a kind of pleasure, it gives a life. I cannot say that reading has
brought me great happiness. By chemistry and disposition I am a less than
cheerful person. I would like to be happier, but I would not give up reading to
gain that end. Perhaps reading has deepened my melancholy. Profound research
into the absence of God and the meaninglessness of life has not cheered my
soul. But knowledge is its own reward.
Stanley Fish, a
college professor, literary critic, and columnist for the New York Times, wrote
a column on the question of whether the humanities do anything to help
humanity. His conclusion was—“No.” He said: “To the
question ‘of what use are the humanities?’ the only honest answer is none
whatsoever. And it is an answer that brings honor to its subject.
Justification, after all, confers value on an activity from a perspective
outside its performance. An activity that cannot be justified is an activity
that refuses to regard itself as instrumental to some larger good. The humanities
are their own good. There is nothing more to say, and anything that is said ….diminishes
the object of its supposed praise.”
I agree.
I have spent much of my life reading. It has given me
knowledge of literature, history, philosophy, theology, psychology, art, science,
and other fields of learning. I do not have a brilliant mind. What I have that
the average person does not have is a passion for learning. Since I graduated
from college I have never stopped reading books. I am not a fast reader, but I
am a constant reader. I am an autodidact, a self-educated person. I spent most
of my high school years studying the parabolas of girls’ chests and most of my college
education studying the trajectories of basketballs. When I graduated, I
realized that I did not know very much. For some reason, I wanted to learn, so
that is when I started reading in earnest.
Many years ago I wanted to understand the reason why
civilizations, nations, and cultures developed the way they did. I decided to
read history and other subjects in the humanities. I read many multi-volume
books on the history of civilization. After a lifetime of reading, I still do
not have the answers. But I do have some ideas, and I can converse about them. I
have tried to learn about subjects beyond literature, history, philosophy, and
theology; subjects like music, art, and science. I have only a layman’s
knowledge of these fields, but I probably know more than most people. As I’ve
gotten older I find that I love listening to beautiful classical music. I also
love reading books about art and looking up artists’ works on the computer.
I discovered early in my marriage that my wife did not
appreciate it if I went into the bedroom in the evening and started reading.
She wanted me to watch television with her. This bothered me and probably
contributed to the eventual downfall of our marriage. I looked upon the
watching of television as a waste of time. We sat and stared blankly at the
screen without engaging in any conversation. The material on television was
pathetic. I hated watching, but felt that it was the only way to appease my
wife. Now that I am older, I like looking at some of the shows on television.
But I still read a lot.
When children came along, they wanted their daddy to play
with them. I loved playing with my children but it was impossible to read after
coming home from work. In addition, my work was demanding and I often did not
get home until later. By the time I got home I would be tired, too tired to
read.
I started getting up very early in the morning. I
discovered that if I arose around 5:30 a.m. I would be able to read for several
hours without interference. Moreover, I would be awake and alert. I could read
and understand the more difficult books without developing that sleepiness that
accompanies most attempts to read recondite material.
Each morning I would get up and go make coffee. I would
sit and luxuriate over the coffee while I began reading some book of history, philosophy,
theology, literature or such. Sometimes I could not understand a word of what I
was reading, but I did not give up. I would read and reread pages until I began
to comprehend what the writer was saying. As I read more and more books, I
understood more and more.
Sometimes I would be struck by what I was reading. Some
writer would connect with my mind so deeply that chills would run down my
spine. I have had the same experience with music and art. When I first saw Velazquez’s painting, the “Water
seller of Seville
I would have liked to have had a consistently happy life.
But I realize that for some people, like me, happiness consists of fleeting
moments when we are somehow introduced to something sublime. Sometimes it is
just a beautiful day, or beautiful scenery, or magnificent music, or wonderful
art, or a glorious poem, or a penetrating thought. It is through such things
that I have experienced much of the happiness in my life.
