How to Read Long and (Sometimes) Difficult Books
How to Read Long and (Sometimes) Difficult Books
Welcome to The Big Read 2022! If you’re getting this email, you’ve subscribed to the free updates at some point in time and you’re interested in this one-year journey of digging into Tolstoy’s epic, all-time classic novel War and Peace.
Today’s email is the second of five introductory emails that will help to set some context for the book, provide some tips on reading big books in general, and address a few housekeeping items.
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How to Read Long and/or Difficult Books
When it comes to getting through long books, there’s no doubt that if often just requires a bit of endurance. Every once in a while, as with any committed and sometimes difficult endeavor, it takes more than the just enjoying the thing to get through it.
In 2019, I wrote an article for Art of Manliness that had some tips for reading long and difficult books. This online club, by its very nature, is accomplishing a couple of the things I recommended, including giving yourself a daily page/time goal and getting an edition you enjoy reading. A couple other things I’ll highlight from that article:
1) I always recommend interacting with the text. When it comes to big and intimidating books, I like to ask questions in the margins, underline sentences and passages I especially like, and do some background reading (I’ll do plenty of that for you this time) . . . I like to get as much out of the thing as I possibly can. You can, of course, do whatever the heck you like with it, but at the clip of just a handful of pages per day it becomes easier to engage a little more with the book than you otherwise might.
2) Don’t read the introduction (yet). When it comes to classic novels, more often than not they include a lengthy introduction by a scholar of some sort. Those intros are great for providing context and background material and analysis, but I tend to find that they give too much away in both plot and meaning. I much prefer to arrive at the story with as little information as possible and see where it takes me; rather than reading a scholar’s take, I enjoy taking a first stab at identifying the deeper themes. My routine is to read introductions after I’ve finished the novel. Again, go your own way, but that’s how I do it.
3) Just keep reading. As Dory encourages Nemo to just keep swimming, I encourage you to just keep reading when the going gets tough. If you don’t understand something, don’t fret too much about it. With a 1,300-page book, it’s inevitable that you’ll miss some things, gloss over the occasional chapter, and also just forget stuff. Don’t worry about it. The first time reading any book, the idea is more to get through it with the main ideas in mind rather than attain mastery.
The Case for Reading and Learning for Its Own Sake
When it comes to reading classic books, especially as part of a paid book club(!), I’m sure there’s quite a temptation to pull some practical benefit from it. In our algorithmic age, it’s hard to do things for their own sake. Ditch the pragmatism though, even if it’s just for the 10-15 minutes a day you’re reading War and Peace. You might get some real-world applications from the book, but you may not.
Below is an excerpt from another Art of Manliness article I wrote about learning to enjoy reading for its own sake:
The self-help internet has instrumentalized nearly everything that makes life enjoyable. Every activity is to be done with some specific purpose in mind. You’re supposed to maximize the ROI of your free time so that it’s not just refreshing, but also makes you a better (read: more productive) person.
You should get plenty of sleep so you can be your most effective at work; pursue a hobby so you can be more recharged for work; take a walk so you can be more inspired at work.
This trend has thoroughly infiltrated the realm of reading as well. We’re supposed to read books on business, books on leadership, books on self-development to become the best entrepreneur, boss, or employee we can be. A more well-rounded citizen. A better husband and father. We’re even supposed to read fiction for its concrete benefits; research shows that novels make you more empathetic and creative!
These are hardly bad aims, but there’s also an argument for sometimes pursuing leisure for leisure’s sake. As its own good, without the need for any other rationalizations. And there’s an argument for reading for reading’s sake. For spending time with books for no other reason but enjoyment, pleasure — even simply their sheer beauty.
Think about what happens when you go to an art museum. You wander around, looking at pieces of art, unmoved by some, but caught enraptured and unable to look away by others. You aren’t asking, “Are there practical takeaways from this art I’m looking at?” You’re letting the impression it makes wash over you. You’re wondering what moved the artist to paint a particular brush stroke. You’re admiring the craft and skill of their work. You’re wondering what it is that so entrances you. Above all, you’re just enjoying it. Things that are beautiful inherently bring light to the soul and the psyche.
This is true for any work of art — books included. Most authors spend years crafting their characters, agonizing over every sentence, arranging paragraphs and dialogue in just the right way. And it’s not just novelists — you can’t read the likes of Robert Caro, Candice Millard, Erik Larson, and so many more, without seeing the art and craft of their books.
If you go into a book with the mindset that you’re simply enjoying a work of art, your mind is freed from the need to find the utility in it. It can be enriching and edifying (though in no specific direction and without quantifiable benefit). It can also be just plain entertaining. Consuming art, from paintings and sculptures to movies and books, isn’t just heady, it’s also fun! An escape. And using art — including books — to find that escape, is okay. It’s more than okay, in fact, it’s necessary.
This isn’t to say that you can’t learn something from books while enjoying their diversionary beauty. Learning is its own pleasure — one that you can pursue for the pleasure alone, with no real end in mind. No practical use, no career or personal development application, no note-taking to review later on, just as its own “useless” object.
I hereby give you permission to put down the highlighter and let your brain wander freely through a book, without the intent of finding applications for what you’re taking in. Let yourself read with no ulterior motives and embrace the simple pleasure that comes from losing yourself in a text.
That’s all for Prelude #2. The next edition will feature some background/biographical info on Count Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy.
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-Jeremy