Don’t Rush With a Book

Books, life, sex, road trips and even food, all things one ought not rush. A lot of people comment on my slowness. I’ve always been slow. I often finished assignments late, I was a late bloomer, I didn’t really figure out what I wanted to be until my thirties and I even graduated college a couple years late. But when I graduated, I finished two technical majors, founded three clubs and a fraternity, and worked at five jobs, most of them technical. I’d say I got the most out of college, except possibly certain skills that could be marketable, although that is not taught in college, college courses give access to knowledge that you will want to come back to later and a mastery good enough to dive in when you are actually working. So what I’m saying is that there are certain things that when rushed, a lot can be lost.

When it comes to books, it is the same. You could read it in one go, but it is the time in between chapters that is most valuable. That mulling and thinking and coming back to read some more, remembering what it said re-hashing. Sometimes you will come back and read the book again and you will read it even slower. You see, a book is never just a book, it is the thoughts and soul and experiences of another human being with all the complexities woven into every word. To read a book quickly is like to go through a crowd and never notice the clown, to miss his act and over look the sadness that is within, the desperation of coming to the street corner every day. Or maybe the fight between the woman and the man or the child that runs chasing the pigeons in the park. It is these things that make life more enjoyable and books are windows into other people’s lives, often brilliant and interesting lives. Why would we hurry that?

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