The Merits of Reading

Finally, I am almost finished with a book that will have taken me 2 months to read. Titan is about John D. Rockefeller from start to finish. It’s his biography, and no detail of John Senior’s life escapes it. 675 pages long, it reads more like a textbook than a nightly read. At this point, some of you may notice the irony of me choosing to read textbooks after college, but I assure you that there was a good reason I didn’t read them before. They suck. I spent the past two months reading this monstrosity because the company I interned at over the summer gave out a recommended reading list, and I felt obligated to at least get through one of them as tribute to them hiring me. Unfortunately, I chose the apparent mac daddy of the Marwood book assortment, the German shepherd over the weiner dog, the Yao Ming instead of the Earl Boykins, Stephen Hawking not Carrot Top. I’m almost positive the book title refers to Rockefeller’s stature in society, but it could just be warning the potential reader of its shear length, complexity and dullness.

The book is fine, I still have 40 pages left, 43 to be exact. But who’s counting. As I approach the finish, I’m wondering what in God’s name prompted me to finish. Not only did I have to extend my library loan for another 4 weeks, but I had to LIE about why. You see, I toyed with the idea of returning Satan’s light reading to the Sacramento Public Library before heading to Alpaugh about 200 pages short of the end. I finally sucked it up, called the main branch, admitted that I had “accidentally” brought one of their books to downstate Cali, and inquired how to send it back. The friendly voice on the other end said that he could extend the return date and I could mail it back to the main branch. Hallelujah!
Anywho, why did I feel the need to finish Hitler’s right-hand man? First off, there’s the sense of accomplishment that would eventually come with its slaying. Second, I couldn’t let it win. Just call it competitive reading. Lastly, I felt that I was advancing my vocabulary, religiously looking up words I hadn’t seen before. Often, I’d look them up 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 or 12 times before I’d get it. Come to think of it, I don’t think I actually learned any new words that I could use on a day to day basis. Now I just say them randomly in regular sentences (incorrectly if you couldn’t guess), and pray that those listening don’t know what it means. Of course, I did that before I read the Holy Grail, but now the words have just become more obscure.

I don’t read because I like reading. I absolutely hate reading. But it has to be good for me somehow right? I’ve realized lately how much I stutter while speaking, and wonder if it’s because I didn’t read enough as a kid. Maybe reading increases your ability to create coherent sentences in your brain, man. Makes sense right? I don’t know, but while I “know” reading’s good for you, I’ma keep doing it, no matter how much loathe it. Just not the The 8th Wonder of the World.