The Lost Art of Reading

I fell off with reading some time in my mid or late 20s. It’s embarrassing and stupid. And by “reading,” I really mean fiction. Biography, memoir, and self-help are all the rage, of course, and I’ve read a good share. I, myself, have been encouraged to write a book, and I’ve always responded: About what?? My commentary here is really about the appreciation of fiction.

My dad was a big fiction reader. He loved mysteries, adventure, and spy stuff. I remember seeing books on his night table by Herman Wouk (War and Remembrance, The Winds of War), Robert Ludlum (The Bourne Identity), and Clive Cussler (Raise the Titanic!). He also loved comedy, and loved the work of Woody Allen and Joan Rivers (The Life and Times of Heidi Abromowitz). I grew up in a house that encouraged reading, especially fiction. Since college, life seemed to get in the way of enjoying a good book, which seemed like a legit excuse.

It’s not like I stopped altogether, though. I did get a few titles in there, like The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen and The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, which seemed to be cultural requirements at the time. But my general passion for reading fiction fell off.

When I was living in Downtown Cleveland in 2018 and 2019, my apartment was a short walk from the wonderful Cleveland Public Library’s main branch on Superior Avenue. I had read an article in New York Magazine about the best way to read John le Carré’s George Smiley novels. Being a big fan of the film adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, I thought I’d give it a go and headed to the library to pull some titles. As suggested by the writer of the article, I started with The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (1963). I absolutely loved it. Then I must’ve gotten sidetracked by a biography or something, because I never went back for another le Carré novel. 

Only a few weeks ago, years after my original quest, I finally bought a digital copy of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and started. I’m loving it. Hopefully this will rekindle a love for fiction my parents tried to encourage by their examples. 

I recently heard an interview on NPR with George Saunders and loved how he sounded. After some more le Carré, I might dig into his new one, Vigil, his 2017 Booker Prize winning novel Lincoln in the Bardo, or his collection of stories Tenth of December. We’ll see.

I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. And I could use the distraction.

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