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Available
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Collection
Publication
New York, NY : Bloomsbury USA : Distributed to the trade by Holtzbrinck Publishers, 2007.
Description
In this mischievous book, literature professor Bayard contends that, in this age of infinite publication, the truly cultivated person is not the one who has read a book but the one who understands the book's place in our culture ... Using examples from works by Graham Greene, Umberto Eco, and others (and even the movie Groundhog Day), Bayard examines the many kinds of "non-reading" (forgotten books, books discussed by others, books we've skimmed briefly) and the many potentially nightmarish situations in which we are called upon to discuss our reading with others. At heart, this delightfully tongue-in-cheek book challenges everyone who's ever felt guilty about missing some of the great books to consider what reading means, how we absorb books as part of ourselves, and why we spend so much time talking about what we have, or haven't, read.… (more)
Media reviews
Interruzioni.net
“Non leggo mai libri che devo recensire; non vorrei rimanerne influenzato” affermava Oscar Wilde con il gusto del paradosso che lo contraddistingueva. La tesi che lo psicoanalista francese Pierre Bayard espone in questo libro non è molto diversa. Anche i lettori forti ricordano a distanza di
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tempo ben poco di quello che hanno letto. La memoria umana predilige l'oblio. Ciò non significa che nel nostro inconscio il libro letto non continui a vivere, come una atmosfera particolare, come un nucleo di idee e di emozioni che finiscono per determinarci. Inoltre un libro non è composto soltanto dal testo scritto dall'autore, ma da tutti i discorsi che negli anni (o secoli) si sono prodotti sul libro stesso: commenti, recensioni, conversazioni, lezioni, critiche professionali e non. Per cui, anche se non si è letto direttamente il testo, ci si forma ugualmente un'opinione precisa su un libro, fino ad arrivare a parlarne con cognizione di causa senza averlo mai letto direttamente.
Personalmente preferisco leggere i libri di cui parlo, ma devo ammettere che le ipotesi avanzate da Bayard sono seducenti. Ne rimase affascinato persino Umberto Eco, che al pamphlet del professore francese dedicò una famosa "bustina di minerva", cui volentieri rimando il lettore esigente.
Bayard esordisce affermando di non trovare la lettura una attività particolarmente piacevole, ma che il suo ruolo di docente di letteratura lo obbliga a parlare di libri che in gran parte non ha letto. Non ha mai letto, per esempio, l'Ulisse di Joyce e non ha certo compiuto una lettura integrale della Recherche di Proust. Di più, su molti libri egli deve redigere dei testi critici. Ciò lo mette in conflitto con tre costrizioni fortemente interiorizzate dalla nostra epoca: l'obbligo di leggere che conferisce alla lettura un carattere sacro, l'obbligo di leggere tutto e l'obbligo di leggere assolutamente un libro prima di parlarne.
L'esito di queste costrizioni interiorizzate è l'ipocrisia sui libri effettivamente letti, la menzogna imbarazzata. Le persone colte si vergognano ad ammettere di non aver letto determinati libri. A volte si arriva all'autoinganno: si è convinti di aver letto un libro che in realtà non si è mai letto. Bayard sottolinea come esistano molteplici livelli di lettura, situati tra il leggere e il non-leggere. L'incontro con un testo riconosce molte forme. E così i libri non letti, ma di cui si sia sentito parlare "esercitano effetti sensibili su di noi, tramite le risonanze che da essi ci pervengono".
La nozione di "libro letto" è ambigua. Ci sono libri a noi totalmente sconosciuti, libri che abbiamo soltanto sfogliato, libri di cui abbiamo sentito parlare e libri che abbiamo dimenticato. La relazione che intratteniamo con i libri non è affatto omogenea, "bensì uno spazio oscuro infestato da frammenti di ricordi e il cui valore, anche creativo, dipende dai fantasmi dai contorni oscuri che vi abitano".
D'altronde, nemmeno un'intera vita può permetterci di leggere tutti i libri; l'importante, allora, non è tanto leggere per intero un libro, quanto avere una visione d'insieme della totalità dei libri. In questa visione d'insieme si riconosce la vera cultura, nella capacità quindi di mettere in relazione i libri tra di loro, piuttosto che nel conoscere meticolosamente alcuni singoli testi. Si deve cioè coltivare una visione d'insieme. "La cultura è soprattutto una questione di orientamento". Orientamento nella relazione dei libri tra di loro e orientamento all'interno di un testo (che si può ottenere velocemente anche dando soltanto una scorsa all'indice).
A volte per farsi un'idea precisa di un libro "basta leggere e ascoltare ciò che altri ne scrivono e dicono". Persino gli autori stessi sovente ignorano quanto hanno scritto nei volumi pubblicati. Infine - ancora una volta ci viene in soccorso Wilde - accanto ai libri da leggere e a quelli da rileggere ci sono i libri sconsigliati, quelli da cui sarebbe bene tenersi alla larga. La lettura non è perciò soltanto un processo benefico, ma talvolta può rivelarsi un'attività nefasta.
La memoria intorno alle nostre letture si riorganizza incessantemente. La lettura e il nostro parlare di libri è più che altro un pretesto autobiografico, un modo per parlare di noi stessi. e per interpretare la nostra esperienza.
Bayard ci invita dunque a liberarci una volta per tutte dalla falsa idea perfezionista, imposta dalle istituzioni scolastiche, della lettura integrale, per vedere invece nei libri principalmente una parte di noi stessi, uno strumento fluido di autoconoscenza, un importante materiale per la costruzione della propria identità e un' occasione di creazione originale.
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I seriously doubt that pretending to have read this book will boost your creativity. On the other hand, reading it may remind you why you love reading.
User reviews
LibraryThing member generalkala
This book actually really offended me. I picked it up because reviews commented on how witty and inventive it was, and so I was expecting a humourous manual on how to babble about Jane Austen or Herman Melville.
Not so. Instead I got a boring, repetetive book that took itself way too seriously.
He implies that all readers are pretentious and only read in order to make themselves look intelligent. God forbid we actually enjoy reading.
He barely mentions the well-known classics such as Jane Eyre or Moby Dick, even though they do feature on the cover. Instead he quotes huge excerpts from stranger works that I'd never heard of that last for pages and pages and often have very little relevance except to pad out his book.
I did enjoy the concept of 'true books' and 'shelf books' - that every book is different for every person. So that copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe exists as a 'shelf book' but the way you remember it and the influences your imagination had is the 'true book.'
I'm sure Mr. Bayard would state that I just don't 'get it' but as he's a Literature Professor that proudly states he hasn't read a book in years, I don't think his opinion would count for much.
Not so. Instead I got a boring, repetetive book that took itself way too seriously.
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Bayard states over and over again how people that skim books actually end up more knowledgeable than those that sit and read them and everybody who has ever read a classic is lying. It is more important, apparently, to know where a book sits on the intellectual shelf of life than to actually read it.He implies that all readers are pretentious and only read in order to make themselves look intelligent. God forbid we actually enjoy reading.
He barely mentions the well-known classics such as Jane Eyre or Moby Dick, even though they do feature on the cover. Instead he quotes huge excerpts from stranger works that I'd never heard of that last for pages and pages and often have very little relevance except to pad out his book.
I did enjoy the concept of 'true books' and 'shelf books' - that every book is different for every person. So that copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe exists as a 'shelf book' but the way you remember it and the influences your imagination had is the 'true book.'
I'm sure Mr. Bayard would state that I just don't 'get it' but as he's a Literature Professor that proudly states he hasn't read a book in years, I don't think his opinion would count for much.
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LibraryThing member debnance
Catchy title. Was it a parody? Was the author writing in earnest? I heard an interview with the author on NPR and realized there might be more to this book than I’d initially thought. Bayard defines “books you haven’t read” broadly, including the obvious “books never opened”, but adding
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“books skimmed”, “books you’ve heard about but that you’ve never read”, and “books you’ve read but that you’ve forgotten.” Whew! That doesn’t leave much to put into the book log for the year, does it? How many books, read cover to cover, remain vivid in one’s mind, long after the book has been returned to the shelf?I took away from this book what I found to be Bayard’s main thought: Don’t let anything stop you from talking about books. Reading, he says, is imperfect. A reader won’t take away from a book the same things another reader will nor the same things the author might have hoped his readers would take away from the book. It is okay, Bayard assures us, to skim books. It is okay to misunderstand books. It is okay to forget books. But, Bayard continues, don’t let any of these things stop you from reading books, from talking about books, from writing about books, from thinking about books.But, then again, I may have misunderstood the whole thing. Show Less
LibraryThing member wewerefiction
Everything I read about this book before I read it promised a witty, beautifully styled text that advised the reader on how to, well, talk about books he hasn't read, but also how to deal with social situations in which the reader finds himself having to lead intellectual discussions about a book
Instead, I found this to be an STB. No, that doesn't mean "sexual transmitted book." You see, books are mentioned throughout this book, as would make sense; the author gives comments on each book - whether he has not heard of the book (UB - unheard of book), books he has skimmed (SB), books he has heard about (HB), and books he has read but forgotten (FB). He then rates them. Well, I am going to call this an STB (slept-through book) with a rating of ++, which is the highest possible rating. I don't want to imply that the book was boring; it wasn't the book's fault that I read it late into the night after having gotten very little sleep the night before. (Well, I suppose if you really think about it, it is the book's fault for being so interesting that I didn't want to put it down; however, I sort of feel that since the book gives advice on how to talk about books you haven't read, I can rightly talk about this book which I only partially read.)
It wasn't witty. Or if it was, I didn't get it. It's French humor, I suppose, and I put that in italics because this book taught me to not be afraid of culture and being open, and perhaps a little bit because that's how everyone refers to the French. In any case, I was initially disappointed by the lack of hilariousness, since that's what I'd expected, but the book wasn't by any means boring. In fact, as I've mentioned, it was quite interesting - so interesting that I hadn't initially planned on writing an entry about it, but now I feel like I must.
The book takes the reader through many styles of non-reading, which I found interesting as I'm also finding my way through How to Read A Book by Mortimer J. Adler (FB++). I haven't picked it up since October, when we moved into this apartment and I misplaced it, but the similarities in the way I seem to recall (but have also entirely forgotten) reading styles are described (whether reading or non-reading) is interesting to think about. It's entirely possible, as this book has proven, to talk about books which one hasn't read, or which one has skimmed, or in some cases which one has actually written but forgotten that he's written it (Bayard uses Montaigne (HB+), while I would probably use Süskind's tribute to Montaigne(FB++)).
In any case, all examples are taken from books. Either Oscar Wilde has said something in his personal essays (HB++) about avoiding books, or a character in Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities (HB+) has the opinion that reading a book is not quite as important as understanding a library. It reminded me of writing papers in college, and I suppose this makes perfect sense as it's written by a college professor who probably expects the exact same kind of writing from his students. (The style of, "Let me provide quotes and then reword these quotes into terms that are more easily understood by your tiny brain.") These books: I'm not sure if they're supposed to all be books that everyone is "supposed" to have read. I know that The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco (SB++, because while I just finished it, I only understood about half of it - I may as well have skimmed it) is one of those, and so is Shakespeare's Hamlet (HB-). The other examples used are perhaps socially "required" in France.
It's true, I've never read Hamlet. Until now, I never realized how unashamed I am of not having read the "required reading." One of the first thing Bayard suggests is to get rid of that feeling of guilt that you haven't read something everyone else says they have read. I've read Paradise Lost (FB++), but I haven't read The Perks of Being a Wallflower (HB--), which is one of those books that everyone has read but which I feel is highly overrated. Yes! That's right! I'm saying things about books that I haven't read! I also haven't read any of the Oprah books, which in my opinion are all crap, nor have I read William Golding's The Lord of the Flies (HB+), which I regularly recommend to customers at my bookstore who are trying to decide which reading list title to read (nevermind that it's usually the shorter selection).
It reminds me of an instance when I worked at a corporate bookstore (if you're unaware, I'm working independent now). Someone had asked if we carried any William Makepeace Thackeray, author of Vanity Fair (HB--). I had never heard of the author. I didn't know what he wrote or who he was or why I should care except to help the customer find his books. I was then insulted, told that I was "wasting my education" as a college student because I wasn't familiar with the author. Since then I've collected several of the author's books but I haven't read any of them. I've now realized that it was out of shame of not having heard of Thackeray that I decided to start collecting his books. I say! I'll not pick up any of his books again, because How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read has made me realize how unnecessary my guilt is, how afraid of culture I was, how utterly terrified I was that someone would think I wasn't "smart enough" or "well-read enough." (Mind you, I enjoy collecting books for other reasons, but when I seek out authors I've never read, it's probably either for this reason or because I want the full collection.)
I purchased Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities several years ago - volumes one and two. It's an incredibly thick book; they both are. I've mused about reading it now and again. I don't remember my original reason for buying it - probably because it has a librarian as a character - but I was surprised to see it used as the first example in this book. I've been using quotes and examples from it which I've found on the Internet probably subconsciously thinking that someone would see that I've used examples from this book and think I was cool enough for their culturally enhanced club. They probably lie about reading Hamlet, too, although I'd like to say that I've never lied about reading Shakespeare. He's too difficult outside of a classroom setting.
I've digressed. What this book boils down to is an alternative take on how we read. Its title implies that it's entirely about not reading; indeed, the back cover implies as much also, but what I found I like most about it is that it ends up being about reading style. It wants you to pay more attention to how and what you're reading; it wants you to realize that it doesn't matter if you haven't read something, or even if you have. It really doesn't matter if you have every Shakespeare play memorized, or if you have an Oscar Wilde quote for every occasion. Society presses these "certain books" that we all must have read and frowns upon those who still have them on a "to be read" stack. Is it necessary? According to this book, the purpose of reading is to add to our autobiographies, to create ("To talk about books you haven't read is an authentically creative activity, as worthy - even if it takes place more discreetly - as those that are more socially acknowledged" (182).), to invent, to be open to what the book is or isn't saying.
Have you ever heard someone say that they've "absorbed" a book? Think instead that the book has absorbed you, or a little part of you. Instead of leaving itself inside you, you've left a little bit of yourself inside it. Whether you've read it through entirely (and thus given immeasurable amounts of yourself and your time to a block of paper), skimmed it (leaving only traces), or read someone else's review of it and decided that was sufficient (giving the book your thoughts, but not your soul), you're creating something new whenever you encounter a book. It doesn't always end up being the same book.
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he hasn't read. The word I latched on to was "witty," thinking this was going to be a serious joke book - extremely hilarious writing about a topic that needs real consideration. Like when humorists write about politics.Instead, I found this to be an STB. No, that doesn't mean "sexual transmitted book." You see, books are mentioned throughout this book, as would make sense; the author gives comments on each book - whether he has not heard of the book (UB - unheard of book), books he has skimmed (SB), books he has heard about (HB), and books he has read but forgotten (FB). He then rates them. Well, I am going to call this an STB (slept-through book) with a rating of ++, which is the highest possible rating. I don't want to imply that the book was boring; it wasn't the book's fault that I read it late into the night after having gotten very little sleep the night before. (Well, I suppose if you really think about it, it is the book's fault for being so interesting that I didn't want to put it down; however, I sort of feel that since the book gives advice on how to talk about books you haven't read, I can rightly talk about this book which I only partially read.)
It wasn't witty. Or if it was, I didn't get it. It's French humor, I suppose, and I put that in italics because this book taught me to not be afraid of culture and being open, and perhaps a little bit because that's how everyone refers to the French. In any case, I was initially disappointed by the lack of hilariousness, since that's what I'd expected, but the book wasn't by any means boring. In fact, as I've mentioned, it was quite interesting - so interesting that I hadn't initially planned on writing an entry about it, but now I feel like I must.
The book takes the reader through many styles of non-reading, which I found interesting as I'm also finding my way through How to Read A Book by Mortimer J. Adler (FB++). I haven't picked it up since October, when we moved into this apartment and I misplaced it, but the similarities in the way I seem to recall (but have also entirely forgotten) reading styles are described (whether reading or non-reading) is interesting to think about. It's entirely possible, as this book has proven, to talk about books which one hasn't read, or which one has skimmed, or in some cases which one has actually written but forgotten that he's written it (Bayard uses Montaigne (HB+), while I would probably use Süskind's tribute to Montaigne(FB++)).
In any case, all examples are taken from books. Either Oscar Wilde has said something in his personal essays (HB++) about avoiding books, or a character in Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities (HB+) has the opinion that reading a book is not quite as important as understanding a library. It reminded me of writing papers in college, and I suppose this makes perfect sense as it's written by a college professor who probably expects the exact same kind of writing from his students. (The style of, "Let me provide quotes and then reword these quotes into terms that are more easily understood by your tiny brain.") These books: I'm not sure if they're supposed to all be books that everyone is "supposed" to have read. I know that The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco (SB++, because while I just finished it, I only understood about half of it - I may as well have skimmed it) is one of those, and so is Shakespeare's Hamlet (HB-). The other examples used are perhaps socially "required" in France.
It's true, I've never read Hamlet. Until now, I never realized how unashamed I am of not having read the "required reading." One of the first thing Bayard suggests is to get rid of that feeling of guilt that you haven't read something everyone else says they have read. I've read Paradise Lost (FB++), but I haven't read The Perks of Being a Wallflower (HB--), which is one of those books that everyone has read but which I feel is highly overrated. Yes! That's right! I'm saying things about books that I haven't read! I also haven't read any of the Oprah books, which in my opinion are all crap, nor have I read William Golding's The Lord of the Flies (HB+), which I regularly recommend to customers at my bookstore who are trying to decide which reading list title to read (nevermind that it's usually the shorter selection).
It reminds me of an instance when I worked at a corporate bookstore (if you're unaware, I'm working independent now). Someone had asked if we carried any William Makepeace Thackeray, author of Vanity Fair (HB--). I had never heard of the author. I didn't know what he wrote or who he was or why I should care except to help the customer find his books. I was then insulted, told that I was "wasting my education" as a college student because I wasn't familiar with the author. Since then I've collected several of the author's books but I haven't read any of them. I've now realized that it was out of shame of not having heard of Thackeray that I decided to start collecting his books. I say! I'll not pick up any of his books again, because How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read has made me realize how unnecessary my guilt is, how afraid of culture I was, how utterly terrified I was that someone would think I wasn't "smart enough" or "well-read enough." (Mind you, I enjoy collecting books for other reasons, but when I seek out authors I've never read, it's probably either for this reason or because I want the full collection.)
I purchased Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities several years ago - volumes one and two. It's an incredibly thick book; they both are. I've mused about reading it now and again. I don't remember my original reason for buying it - probably because it has a librarian as a character - but I was surprised to see it used as the first example in this book. I've been using quotes and examples from it which I've found on the Internet probably subconsciously thinking that someone would see that I've used examples from this book and think I was cool enough for their culturally enhanced club. They probably lie about reading Hamlet, too, although I'd like to say that I've never lied about reading Shakespeare. He's too difficult outside of a classroom setting.
I've digressed. What this book boils down to is an alternative take on how we read. Its title implies that it's entirely about not reading; indeed, the back cover implies as much also, but what I found I like most about it is that it ends up being about reading style. It wants you to pay more attention to how and what you're reading; it wants you to realize that it doesn't matter if you haven't read something, or even if you have. It really doesn't matter if you have every Shakespeare play memorized, or if you have an Oscar Wilde quote for every occasion. Society presses these "certain books" that we all must have read and frowns upon those who still have them on a "to be read" stack. Is it necessary? According to this book, the purpose of reading is to add to our autobiographies, to create ("To talk about books you haven't read is an authentically creative activity, as worthy - even if it takes place more discreetly - as those that are more socially acknowledged" (182).), to invent, to be open to what the book is or isn't saying.
Have you ever heard someone say that they've "absorbed" a book? Think instead that the book has absorbed you, or a little part of you. Instead of leaving itself inside you, you've left a little bit of yourself inside it. Whether you've read it through entirely (and thus given immeasurable amounts of yourself and your time to a block of paper), skimmed it (leaving only traces), or read someone else's review of it and decided that was sufficient (giving the book your thoughts, but not your soul), you're creating something new whenever you encounter a book. It doesn't always end up being the same book.
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LibraryThing member MeditationesMartini
Thank you, Pierre Bayard, for saying what we're all thinking. Bayard is being cute with his winking title, as well as setting his sights squarely upon the mass market, but he touches on some highly legitimate critical issues--no, you know, more than that, there's the material her for not only a
Basically, the concept is, we privilege, aspire to, cover up the absence of, the read text--the object in isolation, read cover to cover, understood and digested--and only then contextualized. The notion of text as discernable cultural artifact, as existing outside the reader, the utility of authorial intent, all these trad-crit shibboleths, he wads up and sets afire with fun cod-Derrideanism, and good on him.
But the book's real revolutionary impact, or rather the revolutionary idea to which Bayard refuses to give full weight and a serious treatment, is simply: the more you care about literature, the less you should read. Or formulated less absurdly: reading is subject to the law of diminishing returns. Become familiar with a book, by all means; as concept, narrative, cultural moment. Read it, if you can spare the time, or just go on cultural osmosis and Baz Luhrmann's movie. But really: every moment spent puzzling through Ulysses is a moment that could be spent discussing Ulysses, or putting it in context, and the difference between a casual skim (ultimately, the aforesaid manifesto is one of skimming) and a deep semesterlong exegesis of Ulysses is the time that could be spent reading through, well, the complete works of James Joyce extra-Ulysses, or . . . you know, other shit. Is the real reader a fox or a hedgehog? Cearly a fox--one who wants to read and feel and be as many things as possible.
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real critical exegesis, but a social manifesto of reading.Basically, the concept is, we privilege, aspire to, cover up the absence of, the read text--the object in isolation, read cover to cover, understood and digested--and only then contextualized. The notion of text as discernable cultural artifact, as existing outside the reader, the utility of authorial intent, all these trad-crit shibboleths, he wads up and sets afire with fun cod-Derrideanism, and good on him.
But the book's real revolutionary impact, or rather the revolutionary idea to which Bayard refuses to give full weight and a serious treatment, is simply: the more you care about literature, the less you should read. Or formulated less absurdly: reading is subject to the law of diminishing returns. Become familiar with a book, by all means; as concept, narrative, cultural moment. Read it, if you can spare the time, or just go on cultural osmosis and Baz Luhrmann's movie. But really: every moment spent puzzling through Ulysses is a moment that could be spent discussing Ulysses, or putting it in context, and the difference between a casual skim (ultimately, the aforesaid manifesto is one of skimming) and a deep semesterlong exegesis of Ulysses is the time that could be spent reading through, well, the complete works of James Joyce extra-Ulysses, or . . . you know, other shit. Is the real reader a fox or a hedgehog? Cearly a fox--one who wants to read and feel and be as many things as possible.
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LibraryThing member beserene
Funnily enough, I actually ended up reading this whole book, which seems its inherent irony, and then talking about it while I was attending the Yeats seminar.
First of all, this is a book tailor made for book academics -- so if you are in the engineering field or have otherwise never made it
1. Laughing out loud ("ah hahahahaha!")
2. A pause ("oh, wait...")
3. Realization and acknowledgement ("actually, that's quite true")
I genuinely laughed at the witticisms, the tongue-in-cheek situations, the deliberately skewed allusions (the author admits that he has not "read" all of the books from which he has quoted in this volume)... but inevitably there were moments of pause, in which I realized that real scholarship was being snuck in under the radar, and that the really, really funny stuff was also true. Bayard's expansion on the idea of the "screen book" or the construct of memory that is a particular book to a particular individual -- he threads out some solid cultural theory here, in explaining how each of us has our own mental library of said constructs which we draw from when interacting with others on the subject of books -- is both fascinating and useful. I pondered as much as I chuckled, and came away from this text with a lot to think about in terms of how people read, remember, and discuss literature.
Not to mention some handy excuses for not "reading" required course books. :)
First of all, this is a book tailor made for book academics -- so if you are in the engineering field or have otherwise never made it
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through a literature seminar on either side of the table, you can skip this book. But for those English grad students and, better yet, professors and authors out there, this little book is a gem. Here's what happens every few pages: 1. Laughing out loud ("ah hahahahaha!")
2. A pause ("oh, wait...")
3. Realization and acknowledgement ("actually, that's quite true")
I genuinely laughed at the witticisms, the tongue-in-cheek situations, the deliberately skewed allusions (the author admits that he has not "read" all of the books from which he has quoted in this volume)... but inevitably there were moments of pause, in which I realized that real scholarship was being snuck in under the radar, and that the really, really funny stuff was also true. Bayard's expansion on the idea of the "screen book" or the construct of memory that is a particular book to a particular individual -- he threads out some solid cultural theory here, in explaining how each of us has our own mental library of said constructs which we draw from when interacting with others on the subject of books -- is both fascinating and useful. I pondered as much as I chuckled, and came away from this text with a lot to think about in terms of how people read, remember, and discuss literature.
Not to mention some handy excuses for not "reading" required course books. :)
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LibraryThing member brewergirl
I haven't made up my mind yet whether I liked this book. I admit that, in listening to the audiobook, I occasionally found my attention drifting and losing the track of the book. But then I found that it didn't really matter. While the author's points are thought-provoking and humorous, they are
One definite drawback ... My already lengthy "to be read" list got a bit longer after reading this book because the author describes several books that sounded very interesting (some that I had heard about, some that were unknown to me) .
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also repetitive. I found, too, that he spoke more about the ways that we find ourselves discussing books we haven't read (or have read but forgotten) rather than how to actually do it. One definite drawback ... My already lengthy "to be read" list got a bit longer after reading this book because the author describes several books that sounded very interesting (some that I had heard about, some that were unknown to me) .
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LibraryThing member AbigailAdams26
It is clear to me, after reading Pierre Bayard's treatise on the art of "non-reading," that my circle of friends and acquaintances, which I had until now considered to be fairly literate, must surely be lacking the elevated cultural sensibility that seems to pertain in Parisian academia. I freely
Now perhaps Professor Bayard's tome simply didn't sit well with my own "inner book," but I found myself continuously irritated by his efforts to assuage insecurities I do not feel. His assumption that the social dynamic he has observed in some of his own circles is somehow universal, and his insistence upon reducing every interaction to some sort of psychological power-play, while perhaps unsurprising in a psychoanalyst, did little to endear him to me. My reading experience was not enhanced, moreover, by the author’s prose, which some have found witty, but which struck me as insufferably self-congratulatory - every point presented as if it were some breathtakingly original discovery.
That said, I find myself in agreement with the basic premise of the book, which is that the activities of "non-reading;" which Bayard expansively defines to include skimming, reading & forgetting (un-reading), and "hearing of" books; are all perfectly legitimate ways of interacting with a text, and more than sufficient for intelligent discussion. His ideas about the three kinds of library - the collective, inner, and virtual - and the ways in which they converge, and at times come into conflict, are intriguing. I am also in agreement with the idea that any given text must not be treated as some sort of isolated document, but part of a larger cultural whole, in which we must strive to locate it.
In short: what can be understood of this book is not be quarreled with, and therein lies its second weakness. Although Bayard manages to express himself quite clearly when summarizing his major points, the great bulk of his work - when not given over to literary quotations - is a confusing morass of self-contradiction and "cultured" cynicism. Perhaps I am too eager to take a page out of the professor's book, but it strikes me that he is the one crippled by fear. Almost from the opening of the book I was struck by the author's assumption that "mastery" of the whole (as in, overall cultural literacy) is the only possible goal of reading, and social interaction its only meaningful arena. The enrichment of the inner self, the transformative potential of new ideas or viewpoints, the restorative power of beauty, the strengthening (or weakening) nature of truth, are all subordinate here to the value books have for us as cultural commodities. Here everything is directed outward, as if we were nothing but social actors.
A man, confronted with the vast storehouse of human knowledge, itself only an infinitesimal fraction of what can be known, acknowledges that he will never be able to absorb it all. But perhaps, he tells himself, he can see the "whole picture," he can understand the "totality" of it. Or is it all just a clever game he has made up, so as to avoid facing his human limitations and imperfections, his smallness? How original... a man rebels against his mortality...
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confess it: there are any number of towering works of genius, pillars of the literary canon, which I have never so much as cracked. But despite the complete candor with which I discuss the subject, I cannot recall the last time someone greeted my non-reading of a text with shock or ridicule. I must either present an astonishingly formidable visage to the world, or have been extremely lucky. Of course, anyone so unwise as to express such sentiments to me would be met with astonished pity, as it is my firm conviction that too inflexible an investment in any given canon is a sign, not of high cultural achievement, but of intellectual error.Now perhaps Professor Bayard's tome simply didn't sit well with my own "inner book," but I found myself continuously irritated by his efforts to assuage insecurities I do not feel. His assumption that the social dynamic he has observed in some of his own circles is somehow universal, and his insistence upon reducing every interaction to some sort of psychological power-play, while perhaps unsurprising in a psychoanalyst, did little to endear him to me. My reading experience was not enhanced, moreover, by the author’s prose, which some have found witty, but which struck me as insufferably self-congratulatory - every point presented as if it were some breathtakingly original discovery.
That said, I find myself in agreement with the basic premise of the book, which is that the activities of "non-reading;" which Bayard expansively defines to include skimming, reading & forgetting (un-reading), and "hearing of" books; are all perfectly legitimate ways of interacting with a text, and more than sufficient for intelligent discussion. His ideas about the three kinds of library - the collective, inner, and virtual - and the ways in which they converge, and at times come into conflict, are intriguing. I am also in agreement with the idea that any given text must not be treated as some sort of isolated document, but part of a larger cultural whole, in which we must strive to locate it.
In short: what can be understood of this book is not be quarreled with, and therein lies its second weakness. Although Bayard manages to express himself quite clearly when summarizing his major points, the great bulk of his work - when not given over to literary quotations - is a confusing morass of self-contradiction and "cultured" cynicism. Perhaps I am too eager to take a page out of the professor's book, but it strikes me that he is the one crippled by fear. Almost from the opening of the book I was struck by the author's assumption that "mastery" of the whole (as in, overall cultural literacy) is the only possible goal of reading, and social interaction its only meaningful arena. The enrichment of the inner self, the transformative potential of new ideas or viewpoints, the restorative power of beauty, the strengthening (or weakening) nature of truth, are all subordinate here to the value books have for us as cultural commodities. Here everything is directed outward, as if we were nothing but social actors.
A man, confronted with the vast storehouse of human knowledge, itself only an infinitesimal fraction of what can be known, acknowledges that he will never be able to absorb it all. But perhaps, he tells himself, he can see the "whole picture," he can understand the "totality" of it. Or is it all just a clever game he has made up, so as to avoid facing his human limitations and imperfections, his smallness? How original... a man rebels against his mortality...
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LibraryThing member lisalangford
In How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read by Pierre Bayard, the author completely challenges the idea of reading books in their entirety, not just how to talk about books one hasn’t read, but presenting the idea that it’s actually good not to fully read books.
He first talks about
“The first of these constraints might be called the obligation to read. We still live in a society, on the decline though it may be, where reading remains the object of a kind of worship. This worship applies particularly to a number of canonical texts – the list varies according to the circles you move in – which it is practically forbidden not to have read if you want to be taken seriously.
“The second constraint, similar to the first but nonetheless distinct, might be called the obligation to read thoroughly. If it’s frowned upon not to read, it’s almost as bad to read quickly or to skim, and especially to say so. For example, it’s virtually unthinkable for literary intellectuals to acknowledge that they have flipped through Proust’s work without having read it in its entirety – though this is certainly the case for most of them.
“The third constraint concerns the way we discuss books. There is a tacit understanding in our culture that one must read a book in order to talk about it with any precision. In my experience, however, it’s totally possible to carry on an engaging conversation about a book you haven’t read – including, and perhaps especially, with someone else who hasn’t read it either.”
I feel these constraints keenly, especially the first two, that we DO read, and read thoroughly.
He goes on to talk about our inner libraries…
“We might use the term inner library to characterize the set of books – a subset of the collective library – around which every personality is constructed, and which then shapes each person’s individual relationship to books and to other people…
“That it is that in truth we never talk about a book unto itself; a whole set of books always enters the discussion through the portal of a single title, which serves as a temporary symbol for a complete conception of culture. In every such discussion, our inner libraries – built within us over the years and housing all our secret books – come into contact with the inner libraries of others, potentially provoking all manner of friction and conflict.
“For we are more than simple shelters for our inner libraries; we are the sum of these accumulated books. Little by little these books have made us who we are, and they cannot be separated from us without causing suffering. …comments that challenge the books in our inner libraries, attacking what has become a part of our identity, may wound us to the core of our being.”
He goes onto encourage us not to be ashamed of what we have not read…
“To speak without shame about books we haven’t read, we would thus do well to free ourselves of the oppressive image of cultural literacy without gaps, as transmitted and imposed by family and school, for we can strive toward this image for a lifetime without ever managing to coincide with it. Truth destined for others is less important than truthfulness to ourselves, something attainable only by those who free themselves from the obligation to seem cultivated, which tyrannizes us from within and prevents us from being ourselves.”
Bayard uses literary (and one cinematic) examples to support his theses…from introducing Hamlet to a tribe in West Africa, to Oscar Wilde’s assertion that one needs ten minutes at most to form an opinion about a book.
It’s quite freeing, really. His distinction of books he’s read, books he’s skimmed, books he’s heard about, and books he’s forgotten is quite helpful. For me, working in a bookstore, I might have slightly different categories…books I’ve read, books I’ve skimmed, books I’ve heard about (lots), and books I’ve not heard about (lots of those too).
I know there are many times I’ve expected myself to read and read thoroughly. Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna, for example. I’ve read her other fiction and loved it, this is her first novel in nine years, I was greatly anticipating it. I’m halfway through, and it’s been a slog. I do not care about the characters, nor about what happens. This happened with one of her other ones, it took me almost halfway through to get into it and really love it, which is why I’ve kept on with this one. And I think I can be done now. So be it.
He first talks about
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constraints we have about reading…“The first of these constraints might be called the obligation to read. We still live in a society, on the decline though it may be, where reading remains the object of a kind of worship. This worship applies particularly to a number of canonical texts – the list varies according to the circles you move in – which it is practically forbidden not to have read if you want to be taken seriously.
“The second constraint, similar to the first but nonetheless distinct, might be called the obligation to read thoroughly. If it’s frowned upon not to read, it’s almost as bad to read quickly or to skim, and especially to say so. For example, it’s virtually unthinkable for literary intellectuals to acknowledge that they have flipped through Proust’s work without having read it in its entirety – though this is certainly the case for most of them.
“The third constraint concerns the way we discuss books. There is a tacit understanding in our culture that one must read a book in order to talk about it with any precision. In my experience, however, it’s totally possible to carry on an engaging conversation about a book you haven’t read – including, and perhaps especially, with someone else who hasn’t read it either.”
I feel these constraints keenly, especially the first two, that we DO read, and read thoroughly.
He goes on to talk about our inner libraries…
“We might use the term inner library to characterize the set of books – a subset of the collective library – around which every personality is constructed, and which then shapes each person’s individual relationship to books and to other people…
“That it is that in truth we never talk about a book unto itself; a whole set of books always enters the discussion through the portal of a single title, which serves as a temporary symbol for a complete conception of culture. In every such discussion, our inner libraries – built within us over the years and housing all our secret books – come into contact with the inner libraries of others, potentially provoking all manner of friction and conflict.
“For we are more than simple shelters for our inner libraries; we are the sum of these accumulated books. Little by little these books have made us who we are, and they cannot be separated from us without causing suffering. …comments that challenge the books in our inner libraries, attacking what has become a part of our identity, may wound us to the core of our being.”
He goes onto encourage us not to be ashamed of what we have not read…
“To speak without shame about books we haven’t read, we would thus do well to free ourselves of the oppressive image of cultural literacy without gaps, as transmitted and imposed by family and school, for we can strive toward this image for a lifetime without ever managing to coincide with it. Truth destined for others is less important than truthfulness to ourselves, something attainable only by those who free themselves from the obligation to seem cultivated, which tyrannizes us from within and prevents us from being ourselves.”
Bayard uses literary (and one cinematic) examples to support his theses…from introducing Hamlet to a tribe in West Africa, to Oscar Wilde’s assertion that one needs ten minutes at most to form an opinion about a book.
It’s quite freeing, really. His distinction of books he’s read, books he’s skimmed, books he’s heard about, and books he’s forgotten is quite helpful. For me, working in a bookstore, I might have slightly different categories…books I’ve read, books I’ve skimmed, books I’ve heard about (lots), and books I’ve not heard about (lots of those too).
I know there are many times I’ve expected myself to read and read thoroughly. Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna, for example. I’ve read her other fiction and loved it, this is her first novel in nine years, I was greatly anticipating it. I’m halfway through, and it’s been a slog. I do not care about the characters, nor about what happens. This happened with one of her other ones, it took me almost halfway through to get into it and really love it, which is why I’ve kept on with this one. And I think I can be done now. So be it.
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LibraryThing member lalalibrarian
in the spirit of this book, I didn't read it, I skimmed it. I think I can talk about it with you anyway, though.
LibraryThing member FlossieT
This book is soooooo French... It's an interesting concept, it's reasonably well-written, but I think the arguments are basically flawed. I wanted to disagree violently with and pick apart so much of what he had to say that my copy is festooned with little yellow tags. In the end, M. Bayard isn't
I still give it three stars, but recommend you take the author's advice and don't read it :-)
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interested in talking about books you haven't read so much as embracing the fact that one hasn't read them. Since I intend to read as many books as it is within my physical capacity to manage, this essentially represents a challenge to my personal raison d'etre.I still give it three stars, but recommend you take the author's advice and don't read it :-)
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LibraryThing member Donogh
I have yet to read this book, so I should feel aghast at attempting to review it. I usually would, but given the book's title...
My library is full of books I have skimmed through, or cherry-picked particular chapters out of. Alternatively when feeling like I must read up on a subject (without
Having picked up a lot of books purely on the strength of a friend's recommendation or a glowing/intriguing review, it is often a shame not to read them, but surely books I have hunted down out of some integral need must be further up the (ever-increasing) to-be-read stack?
I received this as a lovely little gift from a friend (thanks to the strategic placing of a small wishlist (the large one's on BookMooch) on my LibraryThing profile). When he asks me how it was, I shall (deadpan) state that "I haven't read it".
As an aside to the LibraryThing developers, this is one book I would like to tick 'Currently reading' and 'To read'.
I will however, not stoop so far as to rate the book.
My library is full of books I have skimmed through, or cherry-picked particular chapters out of. Alternatively when feeling like I must read up on a subject (without
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having the actual time to do so) I read the introduction, conclusion, the first and last paragraphs of each chapter and then a smattering of footnotes and finally leaf through the bibliography.Having picked up a lot of books purely on the strength of a friend's recommendation or a glowing/intriguing review, it is often a shame not to read them, but surely books I have hunted down out of some integral need must be further up the (ever-increasing) to-be-read stack?
I received this as a lovely little gift from a friend (thanks to the strategic placing of a small wishlist (the large one's on BookMooch) on my LibraryThing profile). When he asks me how it was, I shall (deadpan) state that "I haven't read it".
As an aside to the LibraryThing developers, this is one book I would like to tick 'Currently reading' and 'To read'.
I will however, not stoop so far as to rate the book.
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LibraryThing member tchelyzt
Have you ever felt culturally inferior when conversation turns to literature and you haven’t read or can’t remember the books being discussed? Maybe you’ve heard of them but fear that offering an opinion will be found out as unsubstantiated by direct reading experience. This amusing book will
I picked up this hardback book (new) for €6. The gems you find at market stalls! This is one for book lovers. It tells us why we do’t need to read books … indeed we are better off not reading them … but even as we nod and agree with the arguments, it reminds us of why we’ll continue to go on reading. Although his message is serious, his tone is light and mocking.
Bayard divides our knowledge of books into unknown, skimmed, heard of and forgotten. None actually qualify as read. Since we can’t read more than an infinitesimally small fraction of the world library, we are all effectively non-readers and even the most erudite among us spend most of their time bluffing about what they have read. In those small number of cases where we have actually turned the pages of the book, we have forgotten so much and overlaid the rest with so much personal interpretation that we are essentially bluffing still. This is what he says:
“Being cultivated is a matter not of having read any book in particular, but of being able to find your bearings within books as a system, which requires you to know that they form a system and to be able to locate each element in relation to the others … The distinction between the content of a book and its location [in the system] is fundamental, for it is this that allows those unintimidated by culture to speak without trouble on any subject.”
In the first part of the book, he discusses how we (don’t) read. He provides advice from Robert Musil on why to avoid reading at all costs … to avoid favouring one book over another; from Paul Valéry on how to criticise after merely skimming a book (not to mention the subtle art of doling out faint praise); from Umberto Eco on how to deduce content without reading the book (with an amusing aside on how the accumulation of error points to truth); and from Montaigne on why our memory of books we think we read is suspect in the least. On memory, he concludes:
“Indeed, if after being read a book immediately begins to disappear from consciousness, to the point where it becomes impossible to remember whether we have read it, the very notion of reading loses its relevance, since any book, read or unread, will end up the equivalent of any other … As agonizing as it may be, Montaigne’s experience may nonetheless have the salutary effect of reassuring those to whom cultural efficiency seems unattainable.”
He goes on to describe literary confrontations, those occasions when we find ourselves called on to defend our reputation as cultured people.
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help you to see it in a new light.I picked up this hardback book (new) for €6. The gems you find at market stalls! This is one for book lovers. It tells us why we do’t need to read books … indeed we are better off not reading them … but even as we nod and agree with the arguments, it reminds us of why we’ll continue to go on reading. Although his message is serious, his tone is light and mocking.
Bayard divides our knowledge of books into unknown, skimmed, heard of and forgotten. None actually qualify as read. Since we can’t read more than an infinitesimally small fraction of the world library, we are all effectively non-readers and even the most erudite among us spend most of their time bluffing about what they have read. In those small number of cases where we have actually turned the pages of the book, we have forgotten so much and overlaid the rest with so much personal interpretation that we are essentially bluffing still. This is what he says:
“Being cultivated is a matter not of having read any book in particular, but of being able to find your bearings within books as a system, which requires you to know that they form a system and to be able to locate each element in relation to the others … The distinction between the content of a book and its location [in the system] is fundamental, for it is this that allows those unintimidated by culture to speak without trouble on any subject.”
In the first part of the book, he discusses how we (don’t) read. He provides advice from Robert Musil on why to avoid reading at all costs … to avoid favouring one book over another; from Paul Valéry on how to criticise after merely skimming a book (not to mention the subtle art of doling out faint praise); from Umberto Eco on how to deduce content without reading the book (with an amusing aside on how the accumulation of error points to truth); and from Montaigne on why our memory of books we think we read is suspect in the least. On memory, he concludes:
“Indeed, if after being read a book immediately begins to disappear from consciousness, to the point where it becomes impossible to remember whether we have read it, the very notion of reading loses its relevance, since any book, read or unread, will end up the equivalent of any other … As agonizing as it may be, Montaigne’s experience may nonetheless have the salutary effect of reassuring those to whom cultural efficiency seems unattainable.”
He goes on to describe literary confrontations, those occasions when we find ourselves called on to defend our reputation as cultured people.
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LibraryThing member markfinl
The author freely admits that as a college professor he spends most of his time talking about books he hasn't read. According to his thesis, everyone who discusses books talks about books they haven't read, and that's OK. The acting of reading one book means that there are other books you are not
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reading. And anyway, you could never read even a tiny fraction of what is available (a depressing thought to me). Bayard argues that the important is to know about books and to know about books' place in the grand pantheon of literature. Show Less
LibraryThing member alexrichman
Full disclosure: I did actually read this. Doing so is, of course, wholly unnecessary and this book makes a great gift, or coffee table talking point, neither of which require you to crack it open. The writing can be rather dense, and the central thesis is clearly total bollocks, but as an
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inveterate bullshitter myself I have to appreciate the advice. I shall continue to go on the attack and make bold pronouncements about books (and, indeed, most things) without ever worrying about whether they’re ‘true’. Show Less
LibraryThing member campingmomma
The best part of this book was the cover. It was an quick read, but apparently I do not share the humor or supposed wittiness of the author. The only chapter I gleaned anything from was iii; Books You Have Heard Of which discussed Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose. I had actual heard of this book
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and so it was interesting, easy to relate to and not above me. I felt like the reason I didn't get this book was because the author was French and so his frame of reference was way different than mine. Show Less
LibraryThing member TheoClarke
It is sorely tempting to review an imaginary humourous gift book here; a sort of Bluffers Guide to Reading because Bayard's thesis is that many conversations about books are dialogues of the deaf. He postulates that we operate within three 'libraries': the virtual, the inner, and the collective.
All of this is explored in a series of essays in which a specific book about books is both the subject and object. Eco's post-modern Name of the Rose is likely to be widely familar to an anglophone reader but most of the references are to French works. Bayard is so punctilious about his descriptions of each work that the reader need feel no discomfort at any ignorance even though, by his own account, the author is as unreliable as any narrator.
I picked this up intending to give it a quick skim but I found myself devouring every word. And in so doing I undermine part of Bayard's structure: He has no abbreviation for close reading; the best that I can offer is HB and SB++.
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The collective is the true intersection of the inner libraries of the participants in a discussion whereas the virtual is the stated or implied intersection. Furthermore, the contents of our inner library is a fluid mixture of fluid constructs. Our memories and perceptions of each book are in constant flux. This has a profound effect on our attitude to reading and to the discussion of books.All of this is explored in a series of essays in which a specific book about books is both the subject and object. Eco's post-modern Name of the Rose is likely to be widely familar to an anglophone reader but most of the references are to French works. Bayard is so punctilious about his descriptions of each work that the reader need feel no discomfort at any ignorance even though, by his own account, the author is as unreliable as any narrator.
I picked this up intending to give it a quick skim but I found myself devouring every word. And in so doing I undermine part of Bayard's structure: He has no abbreviation for close reading; the best that I can offer is HB and SB++.
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LibraryThing member henrique.maia
Is there really a book we have read? How so, if we immediately start forgetting when we read it?
Is there a difference between a book we have not read and a book we have forgot?
These are no triffle questions; for this book is not to be taken lightly. This is not a self-help book.This is a treatise
If you want to take part of the universal library of mankind, if you want to make whatever niche culture your own, you have to understand books on a deeper level.
And, as the author proposes, you can only achieve this by not reading books.
Start doing this on this one. Read it; or, better still: do not read it. Make it part of yourself. This is an excellent way to [re]start the journey.
Is there a difference between a book we have not read and a book we have forgot?
These are no triffle questions; for this book is not to be taken lightly. This is not a self-help book.This is a treatise
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on literature, on culture as a whole. If you want to take part of the universal library of mankind, if you want to make whatever niche culture your own, you have to understand books on a deeper level.
And, as the author proposes, you can only achieve this by not reading books.
Start doing this on this one. Read it; or, better still: do not read it. Make it part of yourself. This is an excellent way to [re]start the journey.
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LibraryThing member jonathon.hodge
Great discussion of the place titles hold in the social/cultural landscape and how we orientate ourselves in that space - thus obviating the need to have actually read the titles cover to cover. Wonderful.
LibraryThing member rachelick
A French professor of literature, Bayard expounds on his theory, using literary examples, that reading a book is wholly unnecessary to create and participate in dialogue about it. Academic in tone, the book provides a point of view that counters accepted wisdom. Students of literary theory and
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criticism may choose to argue with Bayard's interpretation of the interaction between book, reader and community, but this is a book worth discussing-- whether you've read it or not. Show Less
LibraryThing member mykl-s
How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read by Pierre Bayard (2009)
LibraryThing member jpurcell10
Witty, highly readable and so very true. Though, one wonders about the value of reading a book that asserts that the actual act of reading is not necessary and largely a regretable distraction!
LibraryThing member narwhaltortellini
Ok, so shoot me. I read the book description, I read the humorous chapter premises, and perhaps unfoundedly, decided I knew exactly what I was going to get from this book. I thought I was going to get a humorous devaluing of reading, and in particular of the "great works of literature," grounded in
So for those of you who think like me, fair warning: That's not really what this book is like. It really is discussing, sometimes humorously, how useless it can be to read books. Also, humor wasn't as prevalent as I thought it was going to be, and the expected underlying message that the reason it's useless to read books is because many aren't reading them "right" (understanding them properly, learning from them, enjoying them, whatever you like ^_^), the subtle tongue-in-cheek encouragement to NOT not actually cease reading but to read differently...didn't seem to be there.
I'll admit to you right now I only got half way through, so maybe the book did turn that way eventually and I didn't get there. Still, as I past that half way mark and still wasn't sensing any change, and as I was forced to go through more repetitive musings on not reading, I just gave up. There's also the distinct possibility that there was humor and subtle pro-reading messages that were just flying over my head. Still, I find it mostly repetitive and unsatisfying. Nonetheless, I've still got to give it some points for bringing up some interesting points, even if it didn't go the direction I wanted to hear about.
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all the taboo truths about reading many teachers and well-read individuals would not like to admit, while at the same time as it points out the fact that with the way some read, they may as well not read books, that the solution isn't actually not reading but reading in a different, more aware way. A humorous encouragement to trully understand and enjoy the books you read.So for those of you who think like me, fair warning: That's not really what this book is like. It really is discussing, sometimes humorously, how useless it can be to read books. Also, humor wasn't as prevalent as I thought it was going to be, and the expected underlying message that the reason it's useless to read books is because many aren't reading them "right" (understanding them properly, learning from them, enjoying them, whatever you like ^_^), the subtle tongue-in-cheek encouragement to NOT not actually cease reading but to read differently...didn't seem to be there.
I'll admit to you right now I only got half way through, so maybe the book did turn that way eventually and I didn't get there. Still, as I past that half way mark and still wasn't sensing any change, and as I was forced to go through more repetitive musings on not reading, I just gave up. There's also the distinct possibility that there was humor and subtle pro-reading messages that were just flying over my head. Still, I find it mostly repetitive and unsatisfying. Nonetheless, I've still got to give it some points for bringing up some interesting points, even if it didn't go the direction I wanted to hear about.
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LibraryThing member la.grisette
What I managed to glean painfully through the smoke-and-mirrors:
Bayard's thesis is that it is immaterial to one's cultural literacy (an object he never establishes the supremacy of over, say, literacy) to have actually read every, or even one, book in our "collective library" (a term he
His main argument is that our concept of reading is essentially a wrong one - that the intellect does not deepen or expand when confronted with the products of great minds, but by its own pig-headed, self-preservative nature can only wholly reject (through mis- or disremembrance) new ideas, or else transmute them into our old preconceptions, like a poor translation.
At one point, Bayard cites himself (or, rather, one of his own essays "Enquete sur Hamlet: Le dialogue de sourds," or "Enquiry into Hamlet: The Dialogue of the Deaf" to support this proposition. (Here, I have to pause to explain a system of notation Bayard invented to categorize all the books he cites: Unknown Book is UB, Skimmed Book is SB, Heard-of Book is HB, and Forgotten Book is FB. Then there are pluses and minuses [as in "double ungood!"] to indicate his opinion of said UB or HB. Don't try to tease any underlying logic out of this arbitrary taxonomy.) He cites his own essay as "FB-," which I suppose is supposed to convey a certain self-deprecatory playfulness which, since Socrates first used it to encourage mental rigor in his pupils, has been appropriated by all manner of pseudo-intellectuals to excuse their own mental laziness. ("No one's taking me seriously, are they?") And in this instance it's even worse, because the mask of self-deprecation is meant to hide how self-referential and without substance his arguments are.
I agree with Bayard so far as he posits we interact with books on a deeply individual, and sometimes cognitively flawed level. Also, that there are simply too many books, good books even, to ever hope to read even the bulk of... But I do not agree with his conclusion that we must therefore abandon any value-judgments, which he proposing we do both on the level of individual books and by considering others' opinions of those books equally with the books themselves.
...One can see where this philosophy must be of great personal significance to you, Mr. Bayard, otherwise you'd have to actually read great and important books instead of diluting their number with trash like How to Talk... - and if your disposition renders such self-control and humility impossible (which I suspect it does), you can always abdicate your position as a literary intellectual entirely, and openly pursue a career selling snake-oil door-to-door.
Bayard's thesis is that it is immaterial to one's cultural literacy (an object he never establishes the supremacy of over, say, literacy) to have actually read every, or even one, book in our "collective library" (a term he
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unnecessarily substitutes for Western literary canon). His supporting arguments, consisting of how we relate to books and how we use books to relate to each other, are occasionally interesting but never convincing. He actually confuses his own newly minted terms, using "inner-book" (there are also "collective books" and "inner-libraries") to refer alternately to one's personal interpretation of a book (which, in case you were just about getting a grip on things, may also be called the "screen book") or an ill-defined miasma of abstract preconceptions that will color our interpretation of the book a priori. (Oh, and don't think one can disregard the auxiliary influence of the "collective inner-book.")His main argument is that our concept of reading is essentially a wrong one - that the intellect does not deepen or expand when confronted with the products of great minds, but by its own pig-headed, self-preservative nature can only wholly reject (through mis- or disremembrance) new ideas, or else transmute them into our old preconceptions, like a poor translation.
At one point, Bayard cites himself (or, rather, one of his own essays "Enquete sur Hamlet: Le dialogue de sourds," or "Enquiry into Hamlet: The Dialogue of the Deaf" to support this proposition. (Here, I have to pause to explain a system of notation Bayard invented to categorize all the books he cites: Unknown Book is UB, Skimmed Book is SB, Heard-of Book is HB, and Forgotten Book is FB. Then there are pluses and minuses [as in "double ungood!"] to indicate his opinion of said UB or HB. Don't try to tease any underlying logic out of this arbitrary taxonomy.) He cites his own essay as "FB-," which I suppose is supposed to convey a certain self-deprecatory playfulness which, since Socrates first used it to encourage mental rigor in his pupils, has been appropriated by all manner of pseudo-intellectuals to excuse their own mental laziness. ("No one's taking me seriously, are they?") And in this instance it's even worse, because the mask of self-deprecation is meant to hide how self-referential and without substance his arguments are.
I agree with Bayard so far as he posits we interact with books on a deeply individual, and sometimes cognitively flawed level. Also, that there are simply too many books, good books even, to ever hope to read even the bulk of... But I do not agree with his conclusion that we must therefore abandon any value-judgments, which he proposing we do both on the level of individual books and by considering others' opinions of those books equally with the books themselves.
...One can see where this philosophy must be of great personal significance to you, Mr. Bayard, otherwise you'd have to actually read great and important books instead of diluting their number with trash like How to Talk... - and if your disposition renders such self-control and humility impossible (which I suspect it does), you can always abdicate your position as a literary intellectual entirely, and openly pursue a career selling snake-oil door-to-door.
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LibraryThing member John_Pappas
{ How to talk about books you haven't read: Book I have listened to - positive opinion; }
LibraryThing member ljhliesl
I didn't so much read this as skim it, and since the author's own point is that such an approach is valid, I'm counting it as read.
Awards
French-American Foundation Translation Prize (Shortlist — Nonfiction — 2007)
The New York Times Notable Books of the Year (Nonfiction — 2007)
Language
Original language
French