Finished another novel, another journey. Entered a new world through the cover, exited from the other side and saw a parallel universe through the pages.
Reading has always been a hobby but, unlike many others, I have never considered myself a 'fast' or a 'quality' reader where people tend to finish a book within a few days while skimming through the pages. Other day I was going through the posts in a reading community I am a member of and I was rather astonished to see that, just 4 months into 2020, and some people have already devoured as many as over 30 books which accords the book a reading time a mere 3-4 days.
I never understood their ways but I am a slow reader, for whatever it's worth. I, and many others like me, take our time to traverse through a book and stepping through the pages. But that does call for a thought as to whether being a slow reader is causing me to miss out on something and whether I should be striving to clock up the numbers on my shelf. Sometimes, I do lean toward it but, on a deeper thought, I end up trying to put my finger on what it is that pulls me toward the old ways. I find that it is the journey rather than its milestones that matters.
Whenever I start on a book, I look at it not as a mere bunch of pages but a bunch of characters standing on the edge of a portal and extending their hands, thereby, inviting me into their world and, despite myself, I drift into a different reality while resigning to my wanderlust for an abstract journey.
Slow reading provides me an opportunity to envision their world from my eyes. It allows me to embark with them on their travels, share the shade of a tree, share their sorrows and happiness, make some friends and loathe some others. It allows me to be a part of their reality while, consciously, escaping mine which I cannot do otherwise.
Every person has multiple shades to his/her personality and I need to slow down and stare into his/her soul to know better and, unless, I do that, I would be missing out on the relish of analyzing the character's true self.
Awkward it may sound, impractical it may be but I, at the cost of numbers, chose to be an active part of their world rather than racing past and getting a hint in the blur.
They frown upon a dreamworld but there is a different joy altogether in stepping into one with open eyes. When I step beyond the last full-stop of the novel, I have finished not a book but a journey. I look back and, once again, see the characters standing on the opposite edge of the portal but, this time, they are smiling at me and waving goodbye. I look at them for sometime, smile back and, then, tear my gaze off to look for another journey and new friends on the way.
MTC
Reading has always been a hobby but, unlike many others, I have never considered myself a 'fast' or a 'quality' reader where people tend to finish a book within a few days while skimming through the pages. Other day I was going through the posts in a reading community I am a member of and I was rather astonished to see that, just 4 months into 2020, and some people have already devoured as many as over 30 books which accords the book a reading time a mere 3-4 days.
I never understood their ways but I am a slow reader, for whatever it's worth. I, and many others like me, take our time to traverse through a book and stepping through the pages. But that does call for a thought as to whether being a slow reader is causing me to miss out on something and whether I should be striving to clock up the numbers on my shelf. Sometimes, I do lean toward it but, on a deeper thought, I end up trying to put my finger on what it is that pulls me toward the old ways. I find that it is the journey rather than its milestones that matters.
Whenever I start on a book, I look at it not as a mere bunch of pages but a bunch of characters standing on the edge of a portal and extending their hands, thereby, inviting me into their world and, despite myself, I drift into a different reality while resigning to my wanderlust for an abstract journey.
Slow reading provides me an opportunity to envision their world from my eyes. It allows me to embark with them on their travels, share the shade of a tree, share their sorrows and happiness, make some friends and loathe some others. It allows me to be a part of their reality while, consciously, escaping mine which I cannot do otherwise.
Every person has multiple shades to his/her personality and I need to slow down and stare into his/her soul to know better and, unless, I do that, I would be missing out on the relish of analyzing the character's true self.
Awkward it may sound, impractical it may be but I, at the cost of numbers, chose to be an active part of their world rather than racing past and getting a hint in the blur.
They frown upon a dreamworld but there is a different joy altogether in stepping into one with open eyes. When I step beyond the last full-stop of the novel, I have finished not a book but a journey. I look back and, once again, see the characters standing on the opposite edge of the portal but, this time, they are smiling at me and waving goodbye. I look at them for sometime, smile back and, then, tear my gaze off to look for another journey and new friends on the way.
MTC
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