Preaching to the Choir

A lament for a fading age, a rebuke of the heresy that says the pleasure of reading paper books, broadsheets and magazines can be easily replaced.

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Preaching to the choir infers that evangelization and conversion are the goals of preaching. While it might strengthen the believers, if church growth is required, and one is always preaching to the choir, a group that one would hope is in the faith and not just there for the blue polyester gown or the hot girl in the soprano’s section, growth will never be achieved.

It’s the same in my classes. When I start class by telling attending students that it’s essential to attend and participate in class as I test from what I say and don’t give a damn about the PowerPoint, I am only releasing frustration through my mouth. I am not making progress toward increasing attendance.

And even those who attend brag about not buying or reading their textbooks.

Still, I don’t restrain myself when I get going in class; I continue complaining about students who don’t attend class and feel fully entitled to pass. Then, a segue into the story about the student who missed every class because he never found the Zoom link. It was an in-person class.

Photo by Sam Balye on Unsplash

Yes, I was speaking to those who were not there.

And that leads me to today. Someone must discuss why so few want to read, even if you are already in the choir.

I can’t tell you how many acquaintances I’ve sent my Substack to, trying to pump up my vanity metrics, but many long-time friends have never read a single essay.

I’m unsure if my children read these essays, but they both signed up for the free plan. Hey, child of mine, if you read this by March 9, 2024, at midnight, I’ll give you $50.

(I’ll post the result later).

A lot of friends don’t sign up; they mean no disrespect (though, sorry if this sounds a bit bitter; if the shoe were on the other foot, I would sign up for any friend’s Substack, even if it was full of recipes and pictures of their four cats dressed up like Beatles).

But then I will probably delete their bloody memes, so I’m no angel.

I tried the “A lot of the essays were published in the Globe and Mail” to boost my credibility, but that didn’t help. It sounded needy and desperate, a bit too much like a try-hard, as my son says.

You note here that I am drawing on the most self-flattering assumptions.

They might not read or sign up because they don’t like me, think my writing is dull or random, or are like one of my students who waited outside my classroom to enter while still gifting the academic world by warning incoming students that they might as well run up to the second-floor Starbucks as “Paul seems to be winding up into a rant. And he doesn’t test on rants. He’s just going off again; wait a bit, and he will stop.”

A Pew poll reported that 25% of Americans hadn’t read or started a book last year. Another study said only 31% had read or completed a book in the past year. And I suspect it’s underreported; saying you haven’t read a book is a bit of a negative signal, more red than yellow, right up there with telling a pollster how much you watch porn.

Nobody reads newspapers, either.

Gallup reports similar figures. Other researchers say that many read online, the mother of all distraction platforms. Of course, this lowers the odds of you getting to the end of this article.

In 1860, you read your book in a lonesome shack on the Nebraska plains, the fire crackling and your kerosene lamp glowing. What was the option? Talking to a fire poker or restacking the wood?

Today, entertainment options are like ultra-processed foods; they are quick and easy. You enter your man cave, and there is a copy of some Russian novel, where if you don’t take notes on the characters, you lose the plot. Next to it is a remote that will bring you three streaming channels.

I am often weak.

The book will eventually get pushed between the cracks on the couch or chewed by my terriers, and I will discover it when I lose the remote and pull the sofa back.

But isn’t reading just a mode of taking in information? Does it matter? Can’t you TikTok your way to higher learning?

No.

A 2013 study out of Emory University measured readers' MRI scans as they read a book awkwardly while lying on their backs in an MRI machine. They found that the more readers got into the story, the more areas of their brain heated up. This activity stayed elevated for a few days after they finished the book. So, more reading equals more neural development.

Furthermore, long-form reading improves the attention span. Am I the only one who doesn’t read enough and sees his mind wander more after not reading a serious novel?

No, the Hardy Boys is not a serious novel.

But you can get back into it; the attention will return, and you don’t need to crank up your Vyvanse dosage. That’s ADHD meds for those uninitiated.

Long-form reading also increases critical thinking, taking you further down those learning curves that look like a curvy sixties chair you just pushed over in a fit of rage looking for the TV remote.

So, as I approach the tail end of this essay—I am afraid nobody will be with me.

(I heard about a writer who put fifty-dollar gift certificates into the binding of their 600-page book at about page 450. There were no redemptions, but I can’t do that digitally, and as if I can afford $50, that’s two months of Substack income.)

So, to the two people who got this far - I’m trying to go beyond the standard “the world is going to hell essay.” Wait until the end.

My concern is that the richness of life in books, broadsheets, and magazines will be lost, along with the beauty and glorious cadence of the written word. This pleasure can’t be replicated by reruns of The Voice or an influencer deep-frying their Air Jordans.

Long-form reading should create friction. It’s like wrestling. It gets the blood, the electricity, the nodes firing. It changes us. We carry the words with us, and we are stronger.

A population that is not well-read can be the pawn of demagogues, those who think name-calling is a substitute for reason. Peeling back underlying motives is a skill; it is hard and means sweat, friction and growth.

Will long-form reading be lost forever? Will future generations never appreciate the pleasure of reading a newspaper: feeling the rough paper between your thumb and forefinger, folding the broadsheet, and shaking the paper to make the sheet lie flat?

We need to walk slower and think before letting all the pleasures and practices of past ages drift away. Not all are replaceable; long-form reading is a pleasure we should not lose. Will it be a remnant of a quieter, slower age?

To read a quality novel is to slip into the writer’s mind; it is to create their world in your mind’s eye, that mysterious connection between eye, brain, and language giving us an escape into our created worlds. It is not a burden. It is a pleasure.

(Both my children haven’t mentioned the $50 prize).

Please subscribe and get at least three pieces /essays per week with open comments. It’s $5 per month and less than $USD 4. I know everyone says hey, it’s just a cup of coffee (with me, not per day but just one per month), but if you’re like me, you go, “Hey, I only want so many cups of coffee!” I get it. I don’t subscribe to many here because I can’t afford it.

But I only ask that when you choose your coffee, please choose mine. Cheers.

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