Often, to understand the world around us, we must understand it in different hues.
Different textures.
Different key signatures.
The off-kilter allow us to draw parallels. Dystopian parody reflects corruption; hyperbole as humor, or commentary as irony.
It takes stepping outside of ourselves to know our truth.
Reading allows us to transcend the limitations of of our perspective. Why live one life, when you can experience a thousand?
The other night, I revisited an old favorite- a book I had not read since fifth grade, and still considered to be the peak of literature. This book was Lily and Dunkin, by Donna Gephart. The themes discussed in the book were foreign to me the first time I read it as a 10-year old, and critical to a lesson I would learn.
Reading allowed me to see that lack of understanding did not need to birth spite, but, rather, curiosity. My deficit of knowledge in the areas the book discussed allowed me to accept that there was a nuance that eluded me, and motivated me to strive, to learn, to treat difference with a hopeful seeking, rather than aversion.
Stories take us these places. Invite us to step into a world outside our own, into clothes worn or wealthy, into shoes ill-fitting, with an unknown path. When we walk in another’s shoes, we come to understand the significance of a worn sole.
In 2nd grade, I was introduced to death through Bridge to Terabithia. Shellshocked as the final bell rang, sat, frozen, confused that death could enter a fictional world. And if it could on text, perhaps life, as well. And yet the book met this earth-shattering look at morality with beauty, patience, respect, and nuance.
A steady hand of guidance in the uncertainty of an evolution of thought.
As one grows up, it is essential to open ourselves to a light of a different hue. Noelle Wise (11), says of this idea, “Reading the book It was impactful to me. It was a weird, dark book, but it also had an important message on doing things even when you are afraid.”
This is a demonstration of the duality of literature, and an increased ability as a result to distinguish meaning from background noise.
Reading can also have an additional meaning, often in the context of the theological, habitual, and cultural. “I remember reading the Bible as I got older, and my ideas of what different stories meant, and connections, kept changing and growing” Tyler Bugg (11), said.
Complete understanding or acceptance is not vital. Agreeance is even less so. Reading is not to assimilate, or to maintain a school of thought from an author’s line of text.
Rather, the best author will make you challenge them. Because, once done so, you’ve challenged yourself. You have challenged a belief, a system, a worldview. Not vehemently. But on another’s ground, to meet yourself in an unknown realm, and recognize disparity.
Thus is empathy. Thus is revolution.
Reading is not only the argument against ignorance. It is the antithesis of apathy.
Not all books are worthwhile, quality is objectively subjective, and incongruently subjectively objective.
Nothing is for everyone, nor everyone to one thing. It is imperative, then, that we maintain an open mind.
We build castles out of sand, each grain a word delicately place. And the wave of opposition comes, as it must, and another torrent of opposing insight perhaps disrupts the meaning of erosion in the first place.
But we must keep trying. We must keep reading. It is by seeking that cathedrals are built, and disciples of the world are birthed.
It takes stepping outside of ourselves to know ourselves.
