Widely- Vs. Well-Read

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By Ray Tabler

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Author Pam Allyn wrote that “Reading is like breathing in and writing is like breathing out…” It’s tough to live without doing both. Breathing, that is. Unfortunately, most people can get along just fine neither reading nor writing these days. But that’s a subject for another essay.

It’s a rare writer who doesn’t read, a lot. Like oxygen, word intake stokes the fires of storytelling. But an ancient debate still rages as to the quality of the fuel to feed that blaze. Is it better to be widely-read, or well-read? This is a more complicated question that it appears to be at first glance.

Let’s start with definitions. We don’t have to, but that’ll focus the argument, should it devolve into a screaming match. Not that undirected shouting isn’t amusing. It just wastes the reader’s time. Although, wasting time serves a purpose, now and then.

 Widely-read – Indiscriminate reading of everything from package labels to million-word fantasy romance epics, in a voracious hunger that pursues entertainment. Any intellectual improvement is entirely incidental, and tacitly frowned upon.

Well-read – Targeted, often curated, consumption of a literary canon, with the aim of sculpting a keen, focused mind. Any enjoyment beyond academic appreciation of the author’s technical craft is viewed with the same hostility as a Baptist preacher’s for dancing the hoochy-coochie or Professor Harold Hill’s tirade against pool halls. (Yes, I know that Hill was a scam artist. But most characters in The Music Man didn’t know that. Until he wasn’t. Then it didn’t matter anymore.)

That nails down the ends of the spectrum. Most people fill a bell-shaped curve somewhere in between these two extremes, their reading diet a mix of self-improving vegetables and indulgent junk food. Where you think the peak of that distribution should be probably says a lot more about your personal viewpoint than is comfortable to think about.

The widely-read reader is a jolly soul. Mindless adventure and romance stories, and screwball, slapstick comedy sate his literary sweet tooth, until THE END. Then, the craving drive’s him on to the next fix. It is a happy life, free from intellectual care, as long as the supply of cracking yarns holds out. Which doesn’t seem to be a problem at the moment.

The well-read reader, in contrast, appears to be in constant torment. Self-inflicted torment, at that. Like intellectual gym rats, it is the struggle which has ensnared them. Pumping scholarly iron, heavy lifting with Heidegger, Proust, and Joyce certainly builds mental muscle. However, I suspect that cerebral health is not the prime motivator. The dark side of being well-read is the almost irresistible temptation to flex, preen, and condescend to others.

That is all well and good when two well-read individuals tussle. There will be a prelude of posturing, intimidation, and trash talking. Perhaps a substantive debate follows. Usually, one side or the other will back down gracefully, in an effort to avoid a humiliating defeat.

Occasionally, though, a well-read reader, longing to display his worth, will accost a well-read reader. This is akin to an MMA match between Schwarzenegger and Dom DeLuise. The outcome is never really in doubt. And we are saddled with the distressing quandary of why the event is taking place in the first place.

Truth be told, it’s not a great idea to reside in either of those extremes. Challenging reading, which demands you think about things, does exercise, and strengthen the mind. But you need a break from it now and then. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. And, marginally psychotic if we’re being honest. Conversely, a steady diet of literary popcorn atrophies your reasoning abilities. Picture the characters Dom DeLuise typically played. A nice guy, good for a laugh, but not someone you want to depend on. (The characters, mind you. I really don’t have any idea what Dom DeLuise was like once the director shouted “Cut!”)

Full disclosure: there’s a judgy tribalism in both the widely- and the well-read. Well-read readers disdain the widely-read as trashy, page-guzzling slobs, who don’t deserve the label of literate. The widely-read probably intentionally wallow in lurid pulp detective stories and sensual bodice-ripper paperbacks just to annoy those of refined literary tastes. Well, get over it. Judgy-ness is a part of human nature. It’s a survival trait. How else would cavemen figure out which of his buddies could be counted on to run up to a woolly mammoth’s blind side, and shove a pointy stick through its thick hide? Everybody is constantly judging everybody else in the back of their heads. It’s just impolite to admit it.

So, slip some romcoms and baroque space opera into the stack of Heidegger and Proust you feel you ought to read. Crack open Faulker or Melville between epic vampire romance sagas. Okay, at least peek at the Wikipedia pages, or skim the Cliff Notes. See what all the fuss is about. There has to be some reason why Moby Dick, War & Peace, and Finnegan’s Wake are still in print. Beyond providing a way for English teachers to torture high school students. That’ll surprise the well-read the next time they come prowling around for an easy ego boost. What say we meet somewhere in the middle? We’ll all be a little bit better off for the results.

END.

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