Getting Involved in a Complicated Relationship

The ideas conveyed in A History of Reading that most “stir or delight [my] soul (p. 63),” as St. Augustine would put it, are those that touch on the convoluted relationship between book and reader. As a reader and aspiring writer I could easily connect with the metaphors used to describe this intricate relationship. Some of Manguel’s personal thoughts on reading as well as the quotes of others in his account of its history turned out to be feelings I have carried inside for years, finally making their eloquent escape onto the pages of the text. This is only natural, as the history of reading is one shared by many.

The description of words as sustenance [the first example found in Ezekiel (p. 171)] is in my opinion the best metaphor to describe the relationship between book and reader. It accurately depicts the insatiable appetite as well as the urgent possessiveness that I feel when I am holding a book. When it comes to reading, enough is never enough.

 A true reader is also a scavenger. I don’t blame Alexander the Great for stopping ships at Alexandria to snatch up literature for his already overwhelmingly extensive library of nearly half a million scrolls (p. 189). Owning a book is not like owning a shiny new pair of boots. It is not even comparable to owning a pet, although I quite enjoyed Manguel’s comparison of yellowed and withering paperbacks on the patio to rescued stray cats (p.141).

As Manguel says, one does not simply read a book: “One reads a certain edition, a specific copy, recognizable by the roughness or smoothness of its paper, by its scent, by a slight tear on page 72 and a coffee ring on the right-hand corner of the back cover (bottom of p.15).” We attach sentimental value to our books as we do friends worthy of affection. Books are things that we first judge, then own, and finally assign differing levels of meaning to. Like friends, we have favorites, and like friends our books must inevitably find their unique place in our lives.

As explained in the chapter on private reading beginning on page 149, in the complex relationship between book and reader, where you read a book is just as important as the book you have chosen. To continue the comparison of books to friends, every book has more or less a certain place in which it is enhanced and able to have its full effect upon us. Not only does each book have an ordained place, but will also usually hold fast to a specific time that is proper or habitual. A book whose company you would enjoy in bed beneath the glow of a solitary lamp may not be a book whose face you would welcome flooded in the light of day upon a park bench.

This can be carried into the idea of books as social mediums. Manguel explores this idea when he speaks of a cousin of his who “was deeply aware that books could function as a badge, a sign of alliance, and always chose a book to take on her travels with the same care with which she chose her handbag (p. 214).”Therefore a book to be read while traveling or in public must be chosen wisely in order to reflect the image you wish to portray to others. Accordingly, you can immediately feel a deep connection with a stranger if you see him or her delving into the depths of a text that is close to your heart. It is in that moment you realize that you share a mutual friend, and therefore a mutual interest.

 The kindle of course renders all this fuss quite useless when your reading material becomes hidden behind a standard electronic tablet. This sort of privacy could be nice at times (after all, many readers seek escape from their surroundings) but could also lessen the social aspect of reading. The act of reading (be it kindle or book) is however in itself a social statement.

 I do not believe that books are in danger of being replaced by electronic-books. They are not as personal, nor can a person “retain a sense of the whole (p.127)” when they are holding an e-book like they can a codex. Manguel is right when he says that readers today are familiar with the “return of the ancient book-form on our computer screens”, in reference to the limiting surface of a scroll. This is not entirely the case with a kindle as it is a computer because you still hold a book in page format, but you may not finger your place at multiple sections, place post-its and scribble notes, or easily flip through pages like you can with a book.

Regardless of the format, the passionate relationship between book and reader is not limited to a mere physical item. It does not end with the completion of the final page, nor is it constricted to the confines of a publisher’s binding. The relationship between book and reader, like any other relationship, is carried on through memory. Books become a part of their readers. When explaining Walt Whitman’s opinion on the topic, Manguel states: “… invisibly, unconsciously, text and reader become intertwined, creating new levels of meaning, so that every time we cause the text to yield something by ingesting it, simultaneously something else is borne beneath it that we haven’t yet grasped (p. 173).”

Likewise, I believe that memorizing takes us to an even deeper level of intimacy within our relationship with a text. It is now our own in almost every sense, privately stowed away inside the recesses of our minds. It is the simple pleasure of a secret ownership, and a challenge to integrate that which we love unto ourselves.