Whilst paralysed into silence for fear of blogging and expressing my own opinion, Bayard’s “How to Read Books You Haven’t Read” took on a completely different complexion. His critique of the narrow definition of reading in the world of literary criticism (instead advocating that “non – reading” practices can be sufficient for insightful commentary) now seems like an equally restrictive and unimaginative explanation of the purpose and practices of the reader themselves. Bayard’s argument rests established assumptions, as his push for his “collective library” demonstrates:
“For a true reader, one who cares about being able to reflect on literature, it is
not any specific book that counts, but the totality of all books. Paying
exclusive attention to one book causes us to risk losing sight of the totality”
(Bayard 30-31)
Here, Bayard assumes that wide exposure to literary works is what forms an understanding of literature. From Bayard’s explanation of the complicated nature of reading, we may be scandalised by his tongue-in-cheek comments and wholly consolatory remarks on the futility of reading as it is traditionally understood, but it does not seem terribly challenging. Bayard’s concerns about maintaining perspective propagates the belief that wider reading will lead to more informed critical understanding – the parameters for defining reading have simply been adjusted. Even though his expanded definition of reading (including non – reading) classifies more people as wide readers, the value placed on a grand picture of literature by implication suggests that people without this desired scope are less equipped to comment on texts. Is true literary enlightenment (if there is such a thing) about drawing links between books or categorising them in our mental ‘collective library’? The very idealisation of this ‘collective library’ validates and supports the privileged status of the literary canon – it is not just knowledge of books that is important, but it is knowledge of particular books that is prized with this viewpoint. Grouping all books into an entity we can call “literature” is also quite arbitrary and in need of examination and discussion. It is not reasonable to say that texts exist without leeching off other texts to some degree, but too much emphasis is placed on the idea of a greater textual body. With this wider emphasis, it seems that to truly understand a book requires you to look equally well at the books around your studied book as between your said book’s covers.
Bayard’s proposed panoramic vantage point also suggests fear of emotional investment in texts, which is questionable. Bayard never fully explains how individual attention towards a particular book would “risk losing sight of the totality [of literature]” (31). Nor does he explain what he means by getting “lost in the details” (18) when focusing on individual works. If getting lost in the details is getting engrossed in the characters, setting or plot of a book, is that not what reading is about? Such an emotionally distant approach will not adequately engage with a text – emotional engagement cannot be lost in an attempt to be objective.
