Write, Wrote, Written

Booking Through Thursday

There was a widely bruited-about statistic reported last week, stating that 1 in 4 Americans did not read a single book last year. Clearly, we don’t fall into that category, but . . . how many of our friends do? Do you have friends/family who read as much as you do? Or are you the only person you know who has a serious reading habit?

I’m not so sure what to think of this statistic. I think I agree with the writer of this article that it’s pretty much meaningless without context. I mean, you could look at it in the glass-half-empty way most people are that 25% of the population didn’t read a book for pleasure last year, or in the glass-half-full way that 75% of the population did read a book for pleasure last year. That’s a lot. And I bet it’s a higher percentage than the turn of the twentieth century when a good chunk of the population was working fifteen-hour days, six days a week just to survive.

At any rate–on to the question. I wrote last week about how everyone in my family loves to read, whereas my wife, who also loves to read, had the opposite experience. Her mother, especially, hates books. My wife actually had to hide books from her when she was growing up. I don’t know why. She reads magazines and Web sites, just not books.

What I have noticed though, is that there is a definite anti-intellectual sentiment among the upper middle class in Southern California. We were informed by my mother-in-law that her friends consider us odd because of our choice in coffee-table books. First, because they’ve actually been read, and second because they’re an historical atlas of Europe and an illustrated guide to the coats of arms of the European royal families. We’ve also been chastised for having conversations about the Latin dative and Bach harmonies in front of others because they might not think we’re fun people.

Fortunately, we have a large circle of friends all over the country who all love to read. We swap books to the point where we don’t remember who owns what, and having to exchange books works just fine as an excuse to hop on a plane for a visit.

Booking Through Thursday 

When growing up did your family share your love of books? If so, did one person get you into reading? And, do you have any family-oriented memories with books and reading? (Family trips to bookstore, reading the same book as a sibling or parent, etc.)

I grew up surrounded by books.  When I was four years old, I already had my own floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with books in my room.  My parents had a little study in that house which was also lined with bookshelves overflowing with books.  When I was five, my favorite book was an atlas.  I always got books as presents, and growing up we went to the public library (which was actually a very good, well-funded one) at least twice a month.

My wife loves books, too, but she did it on her own, inspite of her family.  Her mother, who is sixty years old, has never read a book for pleasure and is actively anti-book.  She says that she would rather “experience life” than have her nose buried in a book.  We’ve tried to explain to her that reading doesn’t prevent us from “experiencing life” but rather enriches our lives and allows us to have experiences on more than just a superficial level.  It didn’t work.  It still irks her that her “wayward” book-loving daughter married someone who loves books just as much. 

So we decided to make it into a game.  Every Christmas, we get each other a book to be opened at the family Christmas present exchange.  The rules are (a) it has to be a book the other person actually wants to read and (b) it must be able to double as a doorstop.  Last Christmas, I gave her Anna Karenina.  It was her favorite present.  Her mother actually pouted.

And yes, when we have children, we will be dragging them into every bookstore and library we pass.