by On the art of reading and writing How should one approach reading? It’s probably a common pondering that everyone has had at some point about our attitude towards literature and reading. I find reason to contemplate this when my beloved — who tirelessly devours new books at a rapid pace — once again tries to persuade me to put back August Strindberg’s Röda rummet, Hjalmar Söderberg’s Martin Bircks ungdom or Selma Lagerlöf’s Gösta Berlings saga in the library and “try a new book” for once. For her, it’s incomprehensible that anyone would even consider re-reading a novel when there is so much undiscovered and new material to delve into in the wonderful world of literature. For her — and surely many other book enthusiasts — it’s only fools who
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On the art of reading and writing
How should one approach reading? It’s probably a common pondering that everyone has had at some point about our attitude towards literature and reading.
I find reason to contemplate this when my beloved — who tirelessly devours new books at a rapid pace — once again tries to persuade me to put back August Strindberg’s Röda rummet, Hjalmar Söderberg’s Martin Bircks ungdom or Selma Lagerlöf’s Gösta Berlings saga in the library and “try a new book” for once. For her, it’s incomprehensible that anyone would even consider re-reading a novel when there is so much undiscovered and new material to delve into in the wonderful world of literature. For her — and surely many other book enthusiasts — it’s only fools who wholeheartedly engage in constant re-readings.
But let me still try to defend us fools! I’ll turn to a book that I — yes, you guessed it — have read over and over again:
What happens when we read? The eye follows black letters on the white paper from left to right, again and again. And creatures, nature, or thoughts, as another has imagined, recently or a thousand years ago, come to life in our imagination. It is a miracle greater than a grain of wheat from the pharaohs’ tombs being able to sprout. And it happens every moment …
When we read for the second time, it’s like reading a biography of death or seeing our life just before we leave it. Now it becomes clear why that experience in the first chapter made such a strong impression on the heroine. It actually determined her life. A pattern emerges. What was incomprehensible becomes simple and understandable.
Now we can also, just as we do when we remember our own lives, pause at particularly beautiful and meaningful passages. We don’t need to rush because we know the continuation. No worry about the future prevents us from enjoying the present.
I have read this book at least once a year since it came out almost forty years ago. And each time, I am filled with the same joy and wonder. These ninety pages filled with wisdom and contemplation are so infinitely more valuable than all the overly hyped nonsense that is pumped out in today’s increasingly commercialized book market.
When it comes to the art of writing, Lagercrantz’s book has meant a lot to yours truly. Raised in the German-Danish ‘capital-logic’ school of the 1970s and 1980s — Hans-Jörgen Schanz, Hans-Jürgen Krahl, et alii — I was for long of the opinion that sentences shorter than two or three pages could not possibly contain anything of value. Reading Lagercrantz’s book was a revolution for me. It was proven that it was possible to write sentences that were no more than one or two lines long without losing content and coherence.
Thank you, Olof!