In my previous post, admittedly some time ago, I explained a reading experiment I had begun. In short, it was to read only one book at a time, with some exceptions such as audiobooks, short stories, essays, etc. I actually forgot to mention the audiobook rule, but part of why I kept that rule is for long car rides, and because I don’t like podcasts very much, and because I have a rather long audiobook on the cultural history of Russia that I want to read but don’t want to only read. Perhaps I should. But I digress. My proposed experiment was for February and March. It is, according to some authorities, now April. So how did my experiment go?
First Fruit: Temperance
Firstly, I did stick to my rules, with the possible exception of a semi-encyclopedic history book I read in the midst of my primary novel. The primary novel, which should get its own review at some point, was Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc by Mark Twain, and it took up the whole of those two months. What then were the fruits of this endeavor, which I so valiantly undertook and so temperately accomplished?
It was a challenge in self-control, which I think I gained a bit of. I’ll explain why it was only a bit, in a bit. I had temptations to start new books. This is expected, given my knowledge of myself. When I took Spanish in secondary school, I then wanted to learn Russian. When I later took Russian, I wanted to learn Japanese. So, it was good for me to stick to my literary guns.
Sometimes when I did not want to read Joan, and felt an inclination to read something else—say, a short story, which of course was permitted within my experimental rules—I noticed I didn’t really want to read something else. I wanted a diversion. I wanted something short and sweet. I know this because when I considered the many options I had of things to read, what I really wanted was a very short story by someone like L. M. Montgomery—but I had just read all those I have of hers during Christmastide. I have longer short stories, and I have some shorter, more depressing ones by Hemingway, and some others by authors I haven’t read—but in the end I realized I did not want to read them because they were too long, too depressing, too serious, or too unknown (therefore risky). I wanted a sure means of diversion, of entertainment. I should now note that in the past few months I’ve more and more been limiting my time on YouTube. I haven’t cut it out; rather, I am more intentional about when and why I go to it. It must be for a good reason and with a clear intention. Mere diversion is not a good reason, though that might be the clear intention. So it should be the same with reading, I think. Though they’re usually a better use of time than YouTube (unless it’s a bad book), the intent can still be bad. What was the result of this realization? Well, again, self-control, but using that self-control to do one of two things: Read my book anyway, or don’t read anything at all and just think! And what do you think was the result of that?
Second Fruit: Silence & Peace
Before I tell you, I must also say that during Lent I spent extra focus on making quicker decisions and not overthinking how I spent free time or what I did during meals, whether just enjoying them in silence (a great exercise, which I employed for breakfast and lunch throughout Advent, and highly recommend), or reading something, or watching something. This effort, coupled with the above decision to just spend time in silence or just read my book anyway without overthinking, resulted in more self-control as well as more peace, I think. Fewer options makes for simplicity, and simplicity is part and parcel of peace. Regret also is an enemy of peace, except when it is part of repentance and conversion.
Silence is an essential part of the peaceful life. And I think this effort brought greater silence. Both physically and mentally. I have a mind that moves from thought to thought quickly, and tends to have a lot of things going on in it. So why, with my anxiety, have I been feeding it so many more things than it needs? Excessive YouTube and too many books at a time have both been doing this, I think (or rather, a large number of YouTube videos—I did not find it distracting to watch a 2.5-hr YouTube video analysis recently, which took me days to finish). But for the past two months or so, I have had plenty to think about, but I’ve had plenty of room to think of it. Silence, in a spiritual sense, is like space. It allows room. Room to think, room to reflect, room for God to fill it. “In the silence of the heart, God speaks,” said St. Mother Teresa. I’m glad I only had one book and one show (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood) to think of, in addition to interesting videos, meditations, sermons, and all the other things I read or listened to or watched and which also pervaded my mind. I think it left more space to reflect on these things. I used to feel compelled to reflect on the things I engaged in. Now, I think I reflect on them more naturally, not compulsorily. I do it more naturally because there’s space to. No one likes clutter. But some keep it out of compulsion.
The emotional road goes on and on. . . .
So will I continue this endeavor? Yes, I think so! At least for a time. And I don’t want to go back to eight books at a time at any point. I will also say this: My emotions are easily affected by what I read and watch and listen to. That’s part of why I’ve read so many things at once—to regulate emotions, so I’m not just reading sad things. I have two thoughts on this note. Short stories and great novels help with this “problem,” if it is one. Short stories are short, over quickly. Plays too. And great novels tend to have a myriad of emotions in them, and they help you go deep into those feelings in a healthy, human way. Joan of Arc made me feel sad, angry, cheerful, glad, excited, adventurous, hopeful, afraid, tense, and despondent. It’s true a good portion of it was sad, but not the majority, and even the sad parts had hope and beauty and humor. And good novels will have beauty and hope, even if they end sadly—which Joan of Arc doesn’t, from a Christian perspective. Even from a secular and historical perspective there’s hope at the end. My second thought is this: I am really looking forward to reading something fantastical and fun and lovely! Probably a Lloyd Alexander book before I move on to another “old” book (see my previous post for rule #2).
Happy Easter!
The Curious Critic 