As much as it saddens me to admit it, I cannot remember the last time I sat down to read a book for pleasure. That is not to say that I have not read any books lately — in fact, as is typical for anyone pursuing a major in the humanities, I have read around 10 books this semester between writing papers about specific history books and researching topics for projects.
But reading books for school is completely different from reading books for pleasure. As anyone pursuing their master’s or doctorate will tell you, one simply does not have time to read every word of every book assigned as school work. Often, the best you can hope for is an understanding of the thesis or main plot of the book and a general sense of how the author formulates his or her arguments and characters. Decorating the pages with notes and highlighter marks can certainly help when it comes time to write the actual paper on the book, but in terms of understanding enough of the book to coherently discuss its arguments, it often suffices to have read the introduction, the conclusion and the topic sentences of each chapter.
By contrast, reading a book for pleasure is intended to be an engrossing experience. Attempting to ponder the thesis or highlight important quotes defeats the purpose of curling up with the book in the first place. Regardless of the genre — science fiction, fantasy, historical fiction, poetry or anything else — a book read purely for pleasure should not be analyzed within every inch of its life. It should create a universe convincing enough to pull readers in, to allow the readers to become familiar with the characters and to almost feel as though they themselves are a part of the story. It is the ability of books to create a vivid world of their own that determines their success and partly explains the popularity of the “Harry Potter” novels and the “Lord of the Rings” series, to name a few examples. When a reader can imagine the world created by the author, can feel empathy for its characters and can understand the point of the book without deliberately seeking out a thesis statement, the book has succeeded in its purpose.
More likely than not, the textbooks we as college students spend most of our time reading are not nearly as lively or intriguing as “Harry Potter.” We spend hours with these tomes full of academic drivel, when we would rather use them as door stops or fire fuel. Making such reading assignments interesting is an almost impossible task — few people enjoy reading dry textbooks for pleasure, and the authors of the textbooks themselves would probably tell you that their intent was not to entertain but to inform. But this does not mean that there are no books on topics like physics or Nazi Germany that are not only just as enjoyable as “Harry Potter,” but are also instructional in a way that may not be exactly subtle but is certainly not as dry as the tedious prose of our college textbooks.
I certainly wish I had had a copy of Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time” while I was taking physics in high school. Although some of the content still goes over my head, Hawking is nonetheless a gifted writer whose explanations of physics are much more accessible and articulate than the brick of a textbook I had to lug around for a year. It is no surprise, then, that his book about physics became a bestseller, if someone with absolutely no propensity towards the hard sciences could find it, not only appealing, but intelligible. I can safely say that I learned more about physics from that paperback book than from that five-pound textbook.
Although history is my major and is my favorite thing to study, most history textbooks are still remarkably dull. Luckily, a new trend in contemporary literature is reviving the genre of historical nonfiction, making books based entirely on historical fact as captivating as “Harry Potter” novels. Authors like Erik Larson and Simon Winchester write books that focus on the unraveling of suspenseful events in history, telling stories of murders, espionage and intrigue based on actual primary documents. Because their books read more like novels than textbooks, learning about specific eras of history is enjoyable because they are presented not through unfathomable academic jargon but through the vehicle of a fascinating story.
— Sarah Russell is a junior in history. She can be reached at srusse22@utk.edu.
