From: callahan@biffvm.cs.jhu.edu (Paul Callahan)
Subject: Re: Reading as an addiction 
Organization: Johns Hopkins Computer Science Department, Baltimore, MD
Date: Mon, 4 Jan 1993 21:24:46 GMT

kasprj@isaac.its.rpi.edu (Jim Kasprzak) writes:

>In article <1993Jan4.183703.12584@ncar.ucar.edu>, chucks@uars2.acd.ucar.edu (Chuck Smythe) writes:
>|> 
>|> Now THERE are the makings of an interesting thread.  OK, fellow bookaholics,
>|> just why do you read so much?  What does it add to your lives?  
> 
> "Why do you read so much?" To me, that seems to fall in the same category as 
>"Why do you listen to Bach" or "Why don't you like broccoli". It's part of who
>a person _is_. 

Far be it from me to criticize; I just have trouble understanding people who 
read constantly.  Yes, it's part of who a person is.  That's *exactly* what  
makes it an interesting question to ask.  Questions about books, Bach, or 
broccoli need not carry any implicit judgment (unless it's a good way to take 
a cheap shot at George Bush).  However, I want people to understand me, too.  
I've heard a lot from the "I am addicted" camp, and comparatively little from 
people more like myself.  Anybody else out there?

Maybe I'm a grown up version of a hyperactive child; I find it hard to keep 
still for so long.  The only thing I sometimes do that's a form of addictive
reading is random browsing in bookstores and libraries.  I can spend hours 
flitting from book to book when I'm in the right mood.  But the books I read 
all the way through are ones that I take care in choosing.  Also (unlike a lot 
of you, from what I've gathered over the years) I try to keep my backlog of 
unread books to a bare minimum.  I have about six books lying around at home 
and I'm already starting to feel guilty about the prospect of buying any more 
until I finish them.

I don't read *merely* to pass the time, because there's so little time, and  
I find other recreations more relaxing.  When I have a Saturday afternoon to 
blow, I'd much rather go down to the inner harbor and watch the seagulls and 
ducks compete for the affection of tourists, than hole up in my apartment and 
devour genre fiction.  

Hell, a more interesting hobby I've discovered in Baltimore is what I call the 
sidewalk beverage survey.  Anyone can do it; you just have to keep scanning 
the pavement while you walk (a good plan, owing to the number of dogs and the 
lack of a scoop ordinance).  I've noticed that "Wild Irish Rose" is ahead by 
a wide margin, but "Night Train Express" has recently begun to make a 
comeback. "Thunderbird" is surprisingly uncommon.  I classify the remainder as 
miscellaneous, although this actually makes up the bulk of the contribution.  
Things like this give me a feel for the local atmosphere.  I don't like this 
city, but as long as I'm here I might as well try to understand it.

Besides that, there may be more personal reasons.  I remember a woman I once
liked.  She said she liked me too, but when she would visit after a long
absence, the most banal reading material would draw her attention away from 
conversation with *me*.  I didn't understand.  The magazine would be there 
whenever she needed it, but I would be gone from her life in a day or so 
(pardon me for sounding like Jesus Christ).  To me, a book is a less than 
satisfying one-way conversation I put up with when a real one isn't feasible.  
It makes sense, because the author is either dead or too busy to talk to me.  
Also, some ideas are too complicated to communicate on the fly.  I like 
reading, but only when I get something out of it that I couldn't get some 
other way.
--
"I would rather be torn to pieces by the poison-clawed cat, than to suffer one
instant of acceptance by the resident intellectuals of rec.arts.books." 
     [slightly modified; attribution left as an exercise to the reader]
              -- Paul Callahan, callahan@biffvm.cs.jhu.edu --