~a column by Colleen O’Brien
A new “movement” called Slow Reading was recently launched. Its name sounds like a knock-off of the Slow Food movement, which has been going on for 25 years. The Slow Food wave started in Italy as a protest to a proposed McDonald’s at the Spanish Steps in Rome. A few gastronomes suggested the world needed the opposite of fast food – slow food; as in concentration on the old-fashioned way of cooking (real potatoes, cakes from scratch, etc.). It took off and now people in 150 countries brag about doing it.
My grandmothers might have wondered what the big deal was because they never did cave to easy fixin’s; it was dinner each evening: home-fried chicken or pork chops, pot roast cooking all afternoon, fresh biscuits, homemade pie. You remember.
I find the Slow Reading movement about as odd as my grandmothers might have found the Slow Food idea — why does there have to be a movement for what one does every day and has been doing for decades?
The Slow Food craze was born in retaliation against fast food. The Slow Reading “need” arose out of fast information and too much of it, via TV, web browsing, Facebook, Google, twitter, texting. There is a growing fear out there in the “Oh-Dear,-What’s-Happening-to-the-World” groups that people can no longer concentrate for more than a short paragraph and because of this civilization as we know it is coming to an end.
The world as we know it has always been coming to an end (it’s called change), but a worried state of mind is particular to folks who are afraid of change (that’s all of us), and those who have the time to figure out how to get back to somewhere else in time usually come up with something. In the 19th century some of them were called Luddites.
Worries such as world hunger, racism, sexism, ageism, war and climate change seem insurmountable, so the worriers of each generation get busy thinking up things they think we can fix. And, really, slow reading as an aid to life in general is more creative than thinking up a new toothpaste, my opinion being it’s hard enough to choose as it is.
So, there are now groups around the globe reading slowly together, sometimes aloud. I really do like this part of it, for being read to is one of the pure joys of life, a déjà vu to childhood and Dad reading aloud from the Book of Knowledge before bed. Within the Slow Reading movement, people sit in coffee shops and read either to one another or silently to themselves. The latter doesn’t seem to qualify as a movement, as it’s been going on for some time, and the reading aloud sounds like a poetry slam, but . . . it’s a movement and it has a few rules.
The suggestions seem to be a primer on how to read a book, which seems really silly if not downright goofy to those of us who’ve been reading books for several decades and never thought there were rules. Reading was an alone thing and we could do it pretty much however we wanted. But . . . .
- Clear your mind. Before you start reading, close your eyes and concentrate on taking five deep breaths in and out (skip this if you tend to fall asleep easily).
- Start small. You don’t have to begin with the classics (what a relief).
- Re-read. There’s no shame in reading books again and again (thank you).
- Contemplate the book itself, the cover, the spine, the heft of it (to some of us, a book’s just a book, but, go ahead, heft it).
- Look at the title page, read a little about the author, make yourself familiar with the table of contents or the map, if there is one (unless you just can’t wait to read the story).
- Read the questions for the book club at the back before you ever start (these are often not worth it, so skip this if you want).
- Slowly melt into the book, sitting back comfortably, solid tome in hand, the feel of the pages smooth to your touch, the actual turning of pages a pleasure (especially if you have to look back to find a character and what his relation is to the heroine).
- Pause now and then. Look away from the text. Consider the importance of the story (if in fact there is any), the slow build-up of characters, the ripening plot (not all books have one).
- Pick out words you like or don’t understand and make a note of them or look up what they mean later (what a great idea).
These rules have merit. I would suggest that some readers already do these things, not having given any of it this much thought. These rules make me think I’ve probably been reading like an internet junky my whole life – skimming quickly, skipping unnecessary description, avoiding family trees at the beginning because they confuse me before the fact, refusing to read chapter titles because they don’t mean much until I’ve read the chapter, sometimes turning to the end and reading the solution (if the book’s boring; sometimes I just quit reading entirely and return it to the libe half done – time’s getting short, too precious to finish anything stupid, poorly written or unengaging).
The act of slow reading is inspiring clubs where people gather to simply sit in silence and relish the written word. I do this at home, lying on the couch, often with my pajamas on. Having to get dressed to sit around the Bean or Homestead to read might be too much trouble; although, as I said, I like to be read to, so I could put on decent clothes to sit around and listen.
Emily Lindsay from the Department of Psychology at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, says slow reading could have effects similar to meditation, which is the act of focusing on the moment. A study indicated that mindfulness meditation alleviates stress when practiced for just 25 minutes a day. If this is what reading does, I should be as relaxed as a wet noodle.
“You can’t compare reading to anything. It’s the best,” Ms Lindsay said.
Well, I can. Movies, TV shows, YouTube . . . these are like reading. If they’re good, like a good book, they take me away for a while.
“I’ve been amazed at how popular the concept of Slow Reading Clubs has been,” said Meg Williams, director of Slow Reading Company in Wellington, New Zealand. Williams started the club in August. About 30 people gather at a small, cozy bar to read each week.
“Since people heard about us online,” said Meg. “We have had inquiries from all over the world about how to begin a slow-reading club in their city.” So far, such “clubs” have popped up in London, Ontario, and in Spain and Japan as well as in the U.S.
Slow reading isn’t like a book club, in which friends read alone and discuss the same book as a group. Slow reading is more about intentionally devoting time to reading without the distraction of electronic devices and all the other things (children, spouses, housework, yardwork, plain old work . . . ?) that can pull one away from the page. The benefits, proponents say, include not just decreased stress but improved brain function. I’m all for this.
“I have found that I am more focused when I read now and feel relaxed afterwards,” said a Slow Reader.
Wow. Imagine that.
But for those who need a Slow Reading movement, I’m very happy it’s out there for them.
