No-one can say that the universe hasn’t got a sense of humour. After last week’s post in which I smugly urged us all to reduce our screen time to allow greater creativity in our lives, I reached chapter four in The Artist’s Way.
And what should be this week’s challenge? Something far, far worse than putting down my phone. For a week, I am not allowed to read – anything. No books, no magazines, no on-line articles. If it is in print, I must avert my eyes. What kind of psychopath is this woman? I wondered. Artists are invariably readers. How will I survive?
Is there life without books?
Because reading is what I do. I am seldom to be found without at least two books on the go. I read the labels on packaging. I read the adverts on bus shelters. When it comes to text, I have no off button.
This last week has been a rather peculiar torture. At first, I found it almost unbearable. I wanted to satisfy my itch to read the news; to take a spare half hour to read my novel; to sink into the oblivion of fiction. But at the same time, it made me question, as I have never done before, my relationship with books, and it is not as healthy as I thought.
The literary fix
If, as Marx suggested, ‘religion is the opiate of the masses’ then I would propose that books are the opiate of the middle classes. It is not only an acceptable narcotic, it is a positively celebrated one – giving us the highs and oblivion of a class A drug.
It suggests that we live in an ordered universe when we clearly do not. It’s a simulacrum that is seductively appealing. We argue about the big issues at our book groups and base our cases on fiction. Which is not to say that such matters should not be debated, but in my experience, it seldom leads to action. Just as Marx saw religious observance as hindering political progress, would it be too bold to say that fiction may serve the same function?
When we read, our sense of a just and fair universe is upheld. For even if a book contains much darkness (as the Narnia books certainly do) it is controlled and resolved by a higher power (the author). With the exception of the highly disturbing, The Talented Mr Ripley, we can count on evil being punished and good rewarded. If only this were true in real life.
How things change
Books and reading have historically been the preserve of the rich: literacy and the cost of texts saw to that. Yet, when publishing became cheaper and literacy rates rose, reading became something that everyone could do. Free lending libraries being the final nudge towards the pleasure of reading being fully accessible.
We all assume today that reading and encouraging our children to read is the highest goal. Books = good.
It has not always been this way. The novel was viewed with suspicion (being, as it was, a complete fabrication) and possibly having ill effects on the morals of the young ladies reading them. By the 20th century (and I’ll ask you to forgive any errors here as I can’t check my ideas through reading) books were not only seen as an essential part of a cultured life, but literature began to be taught at the universities. One of the strongest arguments in its favour being that reading fiction would improve empathy and moral outlook. I’ll let you decide if you think that it has succeeded.
That’s entertainment!
While we extol writers and readers as some kind of superior life form, we are forgetting that reading is, for the most part, merely a kind of entertainment. My reading is eclectic at best. I love literary fiction for its mastery of language, but I also enjoyed The Da Vinci Code (and I suspect you did too!) While we imagine literature as art and best sellers as mere pulp fiction, we are forgetting that each has the same aim: to keep us turning pages.
And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Come the end of this week, I shall return with pleasure to the printed page. After all, reading is the portal to vast quantities of information, stimulation and understanding. We can be transported in the luxury of our arm chair to distant lands and previous epochs. A good writer will make these worlds seem absolutely tangible. Yet, they are not. They are the airy bubbles of fantasy.
Even non-fiction must be approached with caution. The fashioning of a book requires a great deal of selection on the part of the author. What is omitted may well be as significant as what is contained. It is just less likely to support their thesis.
I’m not sure if these were the conclusions that Julia Cameron was hoping I would reach at the end of this week’s trial. Perhaps she only wanted to make me aware of how much time is absorbed in reading: time that might be better spent on something more creative. On that point, she has succeeded. Not being able to pick up a book or magazine has freed time to play and dream. Even having a few minutes spare, I found myself doodling or doing origami.
Confession
I have had to read a little. With my students approaching their exams, I could not be unprepared for their lessons. I’ve also kept up with emails and texts lest everyone thought I had dropped off the Earth. That aside, I have not read at all. It has been a curious experience with the pull of the written word lessening each day, while my writing has increased exponentially. Having spent so many hours absorbed in books, I wonder now what else I could use that time for.
Books will always charm me, but I suspect their central role in my life has shifted a little towards the perimeter. They are the best entertainment, but like all entertainment, they are to be enjoyed when the work is done.