How many times have you heard the pronouncement being made about the joy of reading?
I have often thought how difficult things might be for those who struggle in dealing with that skill set.
I certainly enjoy reading, but have discovered over the years that, yes, I can learn quite a bit by reading things, like instruction manuals or lesson plans, but I still prefer the process of learning by doing, or by having someone show me how something is done, then trying to do it. Even pictures on an instruction page might lead me astray. Seeing how some things are done or put together by viewing the process being carried out by someone who knows how it’s done is a more efficient way for me.
But that has not destroyed my love of reading. And it has not destroyed my empathy for those who find reading a genuine chore, like those with dyslexia, for instance. It can’t be easy. So let us also embrace the world of audiobooks while we’re at it.
Someone learning another language gives them additional gravitas, but it can also slow them down in their original language. I have met at least two men over the past few years who could boast of knowing their way around several languages. One such senior guy informed me he spoke fluently in nine languages and partially proved it by breaking out into an easy conversation with a couple of young Japanese girls who accidentally happened to come into our sphere during that discussion.
The other gent I found in a European setting. He was a guide of sorts and informed me that it was a bit of a necessity in his business to become at least acquainted with a few other languages since it made the visitors under his influence feel more comfortable. Both men, however, noted that by attaining these languages they became “the master of none of them.” It was also noted that it sometimes slowed them down from adding vocabulary to their original language.
Now there is this new world order of instant interpretations of other languages achieved by a phone click or two, so reaching into textbooks and language classes will soon be unnecessary, I suppose.
So while I’ve learned a few operative words in a few languages, I definitely have not mastered any, and that includes French, much to my dismay. I honestly worked hard at trying to attain and retain some of it, by listening and reading French and trying to sound as if I knew the language, but I never got there. In fact, the other night, while searching for some other long-lost document, I came across my Grade 11 report card, and there it was: a final grade of 38% in French. The only salvation back then was the fact that I wasn’t the only one. My buddy George was also hapless with French language horrors of Hors d’oeuvres, but our French teacher liked us, or so we thought, which went a long way in keeping us engaged if not successful … per se. Obviously, her job wasn’t on the line if a couple of her charges were lacking in les affaires.
In our town, we were even offered the opportunities to learn Icelandic and Ukrainian. I was smart enough by then to take a pass on those opportunities. I needed to focus on Algebra and Social Studies if I was going to escape from high school with enough credits to navigate this worldly world.
When it came to literary challenges in English (Anglais, as the French call it, as if you didn’t know), though, we were on board. One year, a middle-years literature/language educator challenged us to read “at least 60 books in the school year.” And, of course, audio versions were rare puppies in those days.
The top students managed that chore with aplomb and final marks in the 90s. I managed to reach the goal and only cheated twice, by reading a couple of “classic” comic books that gave me the premise of the story that I could deliver if challenged in the classroom.
Reading was a joy and remains so. I can get immersed in the storyline, even emotionally involved, whether the story is fiction or non-fiction. I didn’t always need to watch TV or go to the movie theatre to get those juices flowing, or even revert to the audio option.
I generally ignored science fiction and fantasy tomes. I thought the authors were taking the lazy way through the story. You know, the hero comes up against an immovable obstacle, so the author decides on the spot … oh, by the way, this guy can fly, or he has the ability to read minds or has x-ray vision or can make himself invisible so he can hear what the bad guys are saying. Too easy, I thought. Fiction wasn’t fun if you just made stuff up to suit the evolving plot. I liked to stick with characters that were real, or at least came off as genuine flesh-and-blood samples of personhood with no special talents other than empathy, general smarts, and willpower, etc. Of course, I was wrong about the sci-fi and fantasy writers, so my latent apologies go out to them.
But, having said that, I did rather like Superman comics when I was young, and those Superman and Batman movies that followed, so I have to admit these fabulous characters were capable of entertaining me along with the others who were dedicated to the sci-fi world.
Fantasy land? Harry Potter? The original was a great book leading to a good movie, so I’m not a complete anti-fantasy person. But I restricted my Potter intake to just the one book and one movie. There was no need for me to dwell on the complete life and times of Harry and the gang. And, to tell the truth, I was dragged into the Potter world by Marlene, our production manager at the newspaper, who insisted that I read that original book and delivered her daughter’s copy and placed it on my desk to make sure I complied. I did, and I enjoyed the experience and thanked her after consumption.
So through the reading world, I gained a love of writing, spurred on by a couple of educators who discovered that while I generally sucked at math, French, and science, they could encourage me to write on occasion and maybe that tiny skill would enable me to find employment with some sucker who needed some word stuff done.
I entered the wonderful world of journalism.
After many years of writing stuff down, it was noted that none of it had to be science fiction or fantasy, just facts placed before us. But I’m sure there have been a few reporters over the years that may have practised some form of fantasy composition either by design or accident. You can blame Harry Potter for that.
