Reading by Numbers

I recently read an article—NPR, I think—about “superreaders: individuals who read up to 300 books per year. On one hand, sounds like a good thing. In an era where reading is on the decline, any form of book consumption is a positive. On the other hand, that very concept of consumption gives me pause. In their interviews, not one of the “superreaders” mentions the titles of any books, nor any narrative, characters, or ideas contained within. They offered various hints for squeezing every possible reading moment into the day. In one case, a woman who only “read” audiobooks (no time to sit down and read) put them on 3x normal speed so she could “read” them faster. Tell me how listening to a book at super speed while cooking dinner or folding the laundry would remotely register long term in the brain. The super readers were also obsessed with logging the books read. Maybe that’s the only way they’ll be able to recall their literary consumables, or maybe if a book falls on the eyes (or ears) and no one documents it, it hasn’t been read? And if people are reading for quantity, wouldn’t they be tempted to choose shorter, simpler books?

Must everything be commodified—recorded, graphed, rated? Exercise broken down into steps; food broken down into calories? The era of big data is reaching the point of absurdity.

Here’s my system. I read every night before going to sleep. One thing I’ve never understood about people who have “no time to read” that everyone, no matter how busy they are, has that liminal time of day—they climb into bed, they relax before falling asleep?? Wouldn’t anyone have “time to read” then? , Generally speaking, I read about one book per week in this manner. On vacations, especially those that involve long plane trips, I might read 3-6 books in a week. I’d estimate that I read 50-60 books per year (plus my subscriptions to The New Yorker, Harpers, and The Sun) but I’ve never counted.

When my children were little they always participated in the summer reading club at the library, where they would color a square for each book read, receiving prizes along the way and a TShirt at the end of their little path of books. It was motivating for them, and I suppose if this approach motivates adults as well, why complain? But I’m still scratching my head in puzzlement.

We are all important

A Woman of No Importance, by Sonia Purnell, is the meticulously researched story of Virginia Hall, an American spy who played an incredibly vital role in the French Resistance and the success of D-Day. A feisty tomboy from a privileged background, Virginia rebelled against the limited expectations of her era, encountering sexism at every turn. Rather than “marry well” and give cocktail parties, she joined the State Department after college graduation (in the 1930’s). Despite excellent qualifications, she was relegated to secretarial work. While posted in Spain, she accidentally shot herself in the foot, which became infected, resulting in the amputation of her right leg. She went home to Maryland…but not for long. Appalled by the rise of fascism in Europe—which she’d witnessed firsthand—she reapplied for a posting in Europe. Again, she was relegated to secretarial work, but finally wangled an espionage position in France, posing as a journalist. Her status as a “woman of no importance”, an attractive blond woman with a wooden leg to boot, gave her an innocent appearance that belied her incredible cleverness and courage. What follows is a study of outrageous heroism. Her journey across the 10,000 foot peaks of the Pyrenees, in the midst of winter, WITH A WOODEN LEG, stuck out to me as the most incredible tale of them all. Determined and stoic, she just kept going.

The history of World War II—widely regarded as a black and white narrative of good vs evil—keeps developing shades of grey as little known aspects come to light. When Virginia began her espionage activities in 1940 the United States was reticent to become involved in the conflict, turning a blind eye to the suffering of the Jews. Even England tried to keep its distance. When Germany invaded France, the French just rolled over and allowed themselves to be occupied, not only the Vichy government, but the majority of its people. So Virginia and her compatriots operated alone, at great risk. By 1944, the tide had turned against the Nazis, the US was finally seriously involved, and lots of French citizens came out of the woodwork to support the Allied effort. I wonder: Did they oppose the Nazis from the beginning? Did they think they would be safer accomodating them? Did they just want to be on the winning side?

Prior to writing my novel It’s Always 9/11, I did a lot of research on the rise of totalitarianism in the 1930’s. There are disturbing parallels to today. Totalitarianism starts slowly and insidiously, usually led by a dictatorial figure. But that dictatorial figure accomplishes little without the complicity of the population. A few brave people, like Virginia, will always stick their neck out, at great risk. But if more people speak out, the risk lessens. The capacity to change the situation rises. We are all important. To pretend we are not is an act of self-deception. We may not all climb snowy mountains with wooden legs, but we can all take collective risk in our own ways, and stand up for what is right.

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