In the spirit of the season, last week on
that special day on which we traditionally consume copious amounts of turkey
(well, tofurky for us vegans), I
wanted to publicly display my gratitude…in other words, “give thanks.” As my
friends and family are scattered both near and far, it seemed to me that the
most obvious way to reach such a dispersed group would be by taking advantage
of one of the ever-populating social networking sites, like Facebook.
So there I was composing an epic speech
acknowledging that I was appreciative of everything from my man to my cats to
the food in my fridge, and just as I went to post it as my status, a nasty
little pop-up window appeared informing me that apparently I’m too thankful as
I had overshot the character count by some hundred words. Left with no choice, I
revised and edited, rephrased and rewrote. By the time I was finally able to
post my acclamation, I worried it had both lost its essence and further that people
would begin to believe that I was ill-acquainted with the laws of syntax and
how they apply to the English language (ie: I had to remove all apostrophes and
other proper grammatical markers, as well as use the digital form for all
numeric references even if they were below the number ten just to make it fit).
Luckily, my loved ones understood – they’ve
always known me to be a verbose creature – but this whole ordeal got me
ruminating and I came to the following conclusion (as posted on my wall
directly below my FB status, and yes I’m quoting myself): “I suppose it’s a
rather sad reflection on modern society if most people CAN compile their
complex thoughts into such restrictive word limits OR that further most people
WON’T devote time to reading something that exceeds said word limits.”
Now the ironic part about my conception of
this conviction is that throughout my highschool academic career (something to
which my mom can contest), anytime I could get my hands on Cliffs Notes instead of actually delving into real literature, I
would jump on the opportunity; the only exceptions being for works of my lovers
from beyond the grave Billy S. and the
man who told tales of all-telling hearts (I know, further ironic – these are
two authors that most highschoolers can’t stand or understand for that matter.).
All of this changed however when I hit college…
Perhaps it was a lack of maturity or just a
god awful selection of texts (ie: “Death of a Salesman” anyone?!) or a
combination of the two, but I truly didn’t begin to appreciate the written word
as a “page turner” (thought I’ve always enjoyed writing) until I embarked on my
six year post-secondary stint. But my love for books didn’t originate as a
consequence of crime fiction, romances, or poetry (though those are all wicked
genres). No, it was the textbook, specifically those of the Social Science
variety, and later the autobiography that made me re-think my firmly
established hatred of literary scholarship.
So why am I telling you this? Well, for
starters, it seems to me that it is a rare person indeed who spends their
evenings inside simply cuddled up with good books anymore. Oh, we can devote
countless hours of watching reality tv shows or worst viral videos, but to
appreciate literature or transcribed life stories, well clearly that’s not as
worthy of a time investment (note the sarcasm).
Secondly, even when we read, because we
have become so ingrained with a “live fast” mentality AND because so much of
the information that we now access is electronic in nature, we tend to skim
over a lot necessary detail which results in frequent miscommunications (ie:
I’m sure all of you have been in a texting war with someone due to
misinterpretation of what was being expressed).
While it’s just speculation at the moment,
I recently heard that physical book publishing is increasingly going out of
style because of the upsurge of handheld device ownership and internet usage in
the classroom. In its place, it’s been suggested that the books of the future
will be purely electronic in nature, complete with hypertext systems that allow
for easy navigation from section to section.
I don’t know about you, but staring at a computer
screen for hours on end personally makes me dizzy. Further, I think it’s a fair
statement to suggest that intangible works of art (whether mp3s separated from
their albums and their artwork or jpeg renderings of da Vinci’s finest) aren’t
as valued. Does this mean that the future of Romeo & Juliet is
looking even more grim? I certainly hope not!
The truth of the matter is this: you read
more and you read more deeply when you have to caress a book’s physicality,
just like you appreciate a marvel of nature more in person than in history
books. For your own sake as well as the sake of the amazing array of fine
literature and philosophical thought we’ve developed throughout the ages, learn
to appreciate the art of reading, and no 140 character word-limit tweets don’t
count.
