Challenges, inclinations, and obligations.

Trotwood wonders what to read.

I imagine if you look up the word "challenge" in the dictionary, it would say something along the lines of "tricky at best, bloody hard at worst, also quite inconvinient at times". There are times when I have to remind myself of this, and times when I question it. If I set myself a challenge, any kind of challenge because I think it's a noble endeavour and that I would enjoy it, then stop when I'm not in the mood for it, it ceases to be a challenge and becomes simply an inclination.

We're reaching the half-point of the year, but this isn't why I'm thinking along these lines as such (though a "half-way point" post is sort of on my mind for Saturday). No, I'm thinking about it because I have set myself a lot of challenges, and there's three that come to mind that I'm either not doing so well with or I'm failing epically (I'll write specifically another time, nothing earth-shattering, though!). I think about why I haven't done a few of those things, and I have so many passable excuses, but it boils down to this: a lack of commitment. It's good for me to acknowledge that.

For this post, I want to write about reading challenges only. Three things have motivated this (and spurred me on to think more generally, which I'm pleased about): firstly, a reading challenge I've set myself that I'm not particularly enjoying, secondly a post from Cassandra, and thirdly a group read I've just signed up to (I'll say more on that in another post).

The reading challenge I'm particularly not enjoying right now is the Penguin Greats. I've said before - they're too small to get into, and too long to read as quickly as I'd like to. But, it was a very good intention because it's an excellent introduction to a lot of writers I'm unfamiliar with. This is why I decided to do it, and this is why I am doing it. All the same, I had hoped to have finished them before the end of June, which would mean reading twenty six by Sunday. A few days ago, also, I read On Natural Selection and thought, "Please God don't let me have included Darwin on my 'Ought to Have Read' pile". I had. I am ashamed to say I was tempted to knock it off and replace it with another. If I did do that, if I took off the Darwin and deleted the Penguin Greats Challenge altogether, I've admitted they weren't challenges, simply an inclination from December that I'm no longer interested in.

So why read, I ask myself again? It's a hobby, yes, and the enjoyment stems from passing my time in a pleasurable way. As Anthony Trollope wrote in The Warden, “What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?” There's the thrill of the chase, as well: all these books in all the world, and there's some that we will love. They will speak to us, change a part of us perhaps, give us a voice, give us reason, motivation, hope, and I don't know what else. I almost exclussively read the classics, but there have been books I've read and loved to bits, so sticking to this genre might not serve me as well as I think. Classics, for me, are an inclination, not a challenge. I want to read the classics and it is easy for me to do so. Challenge me to read one classic a month and I will, but it's no challenge for me. I'd do it anyway.

There's another reason why I read: to learn, to keep my mind active and questioning, to push myself, and to explore. Exploring means going into unfamiliar territory, and it may not be so good, but there is no book that wasn't worth reading (though some have come close) on my lists. I might read seven books in a row that have me screaming with boredom, and I pick up the eighth with no hope and end up falling in love with it. If I hadn't have challenged myself to read North and South I wouldn't have read it seeing as The Cranford Chronicles isn't exactly going splendidly.

All that is well and good, but it's so military. I'm not a machine. I could have set myself the goal of, say, two hundred books in a year. I might possibly be able to do it, but I'd have to pick up my pace. And, if I did set myself that goal, why not pick out the books whilst I'm at it? I bet I have about two hundred, maybe less, titles on this blog that I want to read but haven't yet read. In theory, if I want the challenge, why don't I just do that?

I suppose because the inclination that has motivated a challenge becomes an obligation, which is where enjoyment ceases. I won't read for pleasure at all, I'll read because I have to and a lot will be lost.


Cassandra wrote,

Everyone who reads for pleasure knows that reading one book leads you to others: books which are mentioned or treat a similar subject, books by the same author or from the same period of time, books which you know to have influenced this author, books which you already read and of which you are reminded again because they are written in the same style or feature the same setting or similar characters or simply touch you in the same way. And sometimes when you are reading a book ideas for what to read next drop down like seeds on the fertile ground of your mind, and as soon as you give in to one of those ideas, it develops into a full-grow tree; a tree which again immediately produces countless new seeds waiting for you to give them the light and attention they need to become trees of their own. 

That is exactly it. I could map out the next three years of my life in books, but it would be designed by who I am now and what I have just read, and development will cease along with enjoyment.

Someone mentioned Possession by A. S. Byatt to me today, and I was going to leave it until autumn, but I thought I'd just have a look. Only thirty pages in, and I am really into it, and further more I want to read some Christina Rossetti. So, what do I do (and let's forget Possession is a planned read)? I said I'd read Little Dorrit this week and finish Cranford. I'm reminded of March: I was determined to finish War and Peace, Bleak House, and Middlemarch by spring, and I did. I was pleased. I challenged myself and I won. I didn't enjoy it, though, I didn't like March, and don't ask me about them, especially Middlemarch.

Where, then, is the line drawn? Inclinations and challenges are good, obligations are not so good.

For what it's worth, I know what I'm going to do: I'm going to make myself a cup of coffee, have a cookie, and settle down with Trotwood and Possession. I'm doing that because I want to, and Little Dorrit can wait. The key to it, when it boils down to it, is a healthy mix. We all need to be challenged, and I relish them. But I get signs, sometimes. Cassandra wrote about seeds, and I completely identified with that, but I will add: sometimes, I get odd signs to read a book. The obvious is one week you'll hear a book mentioned three times and you know it's time to pick it up. Another one, slightly obscure: if you follow me on Twitter you know I had call to reorganise my bookshelves (I made a desperately needed extra bookshelf from a cupboard and moved it into the study). The last book I picked up when I was putting them in order was The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch. That book, I'm telling you, wants my attention!

People read for different reasons, and I would never for a single moment suggest that you ought to read as I do. Read to challenge yourself exclusively, read the obligation reads and nothing else, or read without direction for the sheer love of random discovery (the latter, to be honest, is more appealing to my inner romantic). It's all good if it works for you. For me, I like the mix. Part challenge, part inclination, with a slight dash of obligation. I think that's how I'll find my gems. To explore, I would like a map, but I would like to go off-course if I see something unexpected.