Categories: uncategorized
Date: 13 December 2005 11:59:53
I was reading Don Quixote.
It's long. Very, very long. There's two volumes, and they're both very, very long. Still, it's a fun read, although it's not as easy a read as War and Peace. But when I finished it, I started wondering why I'd read it.
When I was growing up I didn't read at all. That didn't really change until I hit university. Then, surrounded by people who did read, and listening to lots of music that had literary allusions, I think I felt intimidated. So I started trying to catch up, and read all the "important" things that I thought I ought to have read.
A lot of it was fantastic - East of Eden, Lanark, Ulysses, War and Peace are absolutely amazing reads. I'd read them again and again. But I don't know why I read them. Was it just to pass the time? Was it simply so I could boast (like I'm doing here)? Or was it to "better" myself, whatever that means?
I used to think it was that. By reading this great literature I was expanding my mind and building my understanding of the human condition. Reading helps you think and understand. Well, hell, now I've done plenty of thinking I realize how over-rated it is. Thinking makes me question things, and questioning things just seems to make me stop doing things until I understand why I do them. Since I never reach that understanding, I end up not doing anything.
And so it was that, after Don Quixote, I kind of stopped reading. I don't need any help passing the time - it goes fast enough. And I don't want to do it so that I can boast - that's not pretty. Maybe if I have a long rest from reading I'll manage to kick the habit of questioning everything. Then later, maybe, I'll be able to start reading again. And then the whole cycle can start again.