Status
Available
Call number
Collection
Publication
Beacon Press (1997), Paperback, 119 pages
Description
A Los Angeles Times Book Review Best Book of 1996 'Without books how could I have become myself?' In this wonderfully written meditation, Lynne Sharon Schwartz offers deeply felt insight into why we read and how what we read shapes our lives. An enchanting celebration of the printed word.
User reviews
LibraryThing member jjmachshev
As a self-confessed readaholic, I was immediately drawn to "Ruined by Reading: A Life in Books" by Lynne Sharon Schwartz. What did the author mean by this title? What would her story be about? Who could consider reading a ruination of life? After asking myself these questions, I, of course, HAD to
While reading Schwartz's book, I felt wrapped up in a warm blanket. So many times, I thought "Wow. That's me." Without preaching, Schwartz understands and imparts in circular thought how those of us who read almost compulsively and obsessively feel. The story of her love affair with books in some ways reflects how I feel about my reading and it was nice to realize that I'm not alone in my 'illness'.
In the end, I think the title is meant to grab the attention of those who will appreciate its sometimes sharp and biting humor and irony. Everything we read changes us in some small or not so small way. And those of us who read in volume do indeed live 'a life in books'.
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get the book. While reading Schwartz's book, I felt wrapped up in a warm blanket. So many times, I thought "Wow. That's me." Without preaching, Schwartz understands and imparts in circular thought how those of us who read almost compulsively and obsessively feel. The story of her love affair with books in some ways reflects how I feel about my reading and it was nice to realize that I'm not alone in my 'illness'.
In the end, I think the title is meant to grab the attention of those who will appreciate its sometimes sharp and biting humor and irony. Everything we read changes us in some small or not so small way. And those of us who read in volume do indeed live 'a life in books'.
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LibraryThing member realbigcat
Being an avid reader and book collector I was naturally drawn by the title "Ruined by Reading." What could that mean? I can't really say that Schwartz really answered that question. Her approach is a memoir, essay type of work that fully shows her literary talent but at sometimes goes much to deep.
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I know that some people live for books and find solace and comfort in them with me being one of those people. I found that her insight is very keen but she focused way to much on her early childhood and childhood literature. I did enjoy reading about her families literary habits and I would have enjoyed reading about the books she owns and her more current reading habits. I found Larry McMurty's latest "Books" more enjoyable. Also, Lawrence Powell's A Passion for Books to be more of my liking. Still because of it's brevity only 118 pages and Schwartz's obvious literary talent and passion it's still a worthwhile read. Show Less
LibraryThing member TimBazzett
I am a bibliophile, an unrepentant booklover, so I was really looking forward to this book. I was disappointed. Not only did Schwartz reveal very little about herself, it also seemed we didn't read many of the same kinds of books. Frankly, we just didn't "connect." There was a lot more about Heidi
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and A Little Princess than I ever wanted to know. If you want a good book about books and reading and an excellent memoir at the same time, try Wendy Werris's An Alphabetical Life. As a "book about books" this one simply didn't work form me. Show Less
LibraryThing member wewerefiction
Here is another fine example of a book type that I don't usually read. Don't get me wrong - I love books about books, especially books about reading books and what the author got out of them. However, this was more of a biography/memoir with some literary elements to it. Wasn't quite what I'd
The back of the book says things like:
"She nailed me, page after page." (Stacey D'Erasmo, New York Newsday)
I saw this and thought, wow! This must be a really great book describing a lot of reading habits and things of that nature. The same quote: "The accuracy of Schwartz's insight made this addicted reader, at least, feel uncomfortably well seen." Sure we all have different reading habits, so some of mine may not have been in the book, but I was sorely disappointed. It may have been that my expectations were too high, but I wanted a "so many books!" narrative.
Instead what I got was a random assortment of thoughts, including slight few of those "Aha! That's just like me!" moments, and I still couldn't tell you why this author feels she was "ruined" by reading. It's mentioned once, maybe twice, but the second time it's disputed immediately - that is to say, a certain book supposedly was said to "ruin" females who read it, but it didn't ruin her, apparently. She continues going back to the philosopher who mentioned something rather about books being ruiners but I couldn't tell you what, since it wasn't even mentioned by the end of the book. Perhaps the title would have fit better if it was a theme that carried out through the entire book, not just the beginning few pages.
Despite how boring I found it to be (except, of course, the descriptions of reading habits that she, her sister, and her daughters had, as well as book descriptions and the funny inability to remember what she's read), there were a few pages that I took particular interest in.
I was surprised to hear a writer once say she wrote the sort of books she wanted to read, since no one else was writing them. Many people, most of them dead, have written the sorts of books I want to read. But not me. What we love to read is not necessarily what we write. The great Italian writer Natalia Ginzburg, who in her early years translated Proust, has described her longing to write lush, allusive prose entwining the complexities of soul and universe into every helical sentence. When she set pen to paper, what appeared was terse and straight as a bone. (61)
Another random thought that was probably a tangent off of a similar random thought, but one which I found put my feelings into words rather well. I have always wanted to be able to write like "suchandsuch author," but succeeded only in mimicing exact sentence structures, style, and word usage. None of it was my own writing. My own writing turns into what my Nanowrimo was - stream-of-conciousness crap that doesn't describe beautiful landscapes, but merely says what the character is thinking at that particular moment, which may or may not have anything to do with the story itself. I also use a lot of run-on sentences which, in whole, are not necessary at all.
I don't wish I wrote like this author, but I certainly feel for her plea to write like the authors she admires.
I can vacillate lengthily, and foolishly, over whether to read at random (as I did on my bed in the fading light) or in some programmed way (as we all did in school). I like to cling to the John Cage-ish principle that if randomness determines the universe it might as well determine my reading too; to impose order is to strain against the nature of things. (101)
I mentioned this in my last review of Kurt Vonnegut's Sirens of Titan, and may have mentioned it previous to that. This year has been a year of structure, at least up until the last few months. I followed faithfully the outlines I'd made for myself sometime nearing the end of last year - read these certain of books by this date, and these books by this date, and make sure these books are read one per month, even if you don't like them. It was that "not liking them" part that destroyed all hope of an outlined future. The appeal of reading randomly is greater than that of the structured "things I should read in the future" idea. I'd like to read my Milan Kundera books, but I'll plan for them to be completed sometime before my death, rather than by June 18, 2008.
"Text" and "subtext" are more fitting for analyzing dreams than writing. We accept that the dream images and events are not "really" what the dream is about, but the available detritus of the day, slyly adapted to shield the dream's actual "meaning." Writing is not dreaming. True, we must write about something. There must be events and images and furniture to occupy the reader and writer while the elusive other thing - the idea, the book's raison d'etre - snakes its way along. But the beauty of a story, unlike a dream, is that the screen of events and furniture becomes primary. The original, embryonic idea, if there is one, adapts to fit their shape, rather than the reverse. (110)
I'm going to pull from my experience at Nanowrimo once again, and I promise it's the last time in this entry. My novel fit under the genre of "literary fiction" and I put it there because it didn't seem to fit anywhere else. It didn't have a real ending, and it was more about the characters and their experiences as well as what I had to say about a possible afterlife, than it was about the broken plot. In my time hanging out at the Nanowrimo Literary Fiction Forum, I found that a lot of people do write this "subtext" in "text" that is in dreams (according to Schwartz). There is meaning behind the words, and it's so vast and euphoric that most people probably won't even be able to understand what it is!
Point being that I don't entirely agree with the notion that people always write books with no "subtext." Whether or not it's something they actively had in mind while writing, I bet you it's there, and I bet you it's screaming out to be released but you're just not listening. Unless, of course, you're reading mostly the basest form of mainstream fiction, in which case I would totally understand if your books didn't mean anything at all except what is being literally written.
The idea, in other words, does not adapt. The characters do. The "plot" does. The idea is always there, lurking behind shadowy corners ready to jump out at the reader.
This is a fitting entry in reply to this book. My thoughts are everywhere with no discernable connection, and you as the reader can't really tell what the point of this post is at all. Is there an argument? What is my main statement? Can you even tell if I liked the book or not? Who knows? I mean, it didn't appear to be important to Schwartz to write what is advertised by the title, subtitle, and praise quotes, so I find it just as appropriate to leave this entry as is.
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expected - a literary biography/memoir with some life elements to it. The back of the book says things like:
"She nailed me, page after page." (Stacey D'Erasmo, New York Newsday)
I saw this and thought, wow! This must be a really great book describing a lot of reading habits and things of that nature. The same quote: "The accuracy of Schwartz's insight made this addicted reader, at least, feel uncomfortably well seen." Sure we all have different reading habits, so some of mine may not have been in the book, but I was sorely disappointed. It may have been that my expectations were too high, but I wanted a "so many books!" narrative.
Instead what I got was a random assortment of thoughts, including slight few of those "Aha! That's just like me!" moments, and I still couldn't tell you why this author feels she was "ruined" by reading. It's mentioned once, maybe twice, but the second time it's disputed immediately - that is to say, a certain book supposedly was said to "ruin" females who read it, but it didn't ruin her, apparently. She continues going back to the philosopher who mentioned something rather about books being ruiners but I couldn't tell you what, since it wasn't even mentioned by the end of the book. Perhaps the title would have fit better if it was a theme that carried out through the entire book, not just the beginning few pages.
Despite how boring I found it to be (except, of course, the descriptions of reading habits that she, her sister, and her daughters had, as well as book descriptions and the funny inability to remember what she's read), there were a few pages that I took particular interest in.
I was surprised to hear a writer once say she wrote the sort of books she wanted to read, since no one else was writing them. Many people, most of them dead, have written the sorts of books I want to read. But not me. What we love to read is not necessarily what we write. The great Italian writer Natalia Ginzburg, who in her early years translated Proust, has described her longing to write lush, allusive prose entwining the complexities of soul and universe into every helical sentence. When she set pen to paper, what appeared was terse and straight as a bone. (61)
Another random thought that was probably a tangent off of a similar random thought, but one which I found put my feelings into words rather well. I have always wanted to be able to write like "suchandsuch author," but succeeded only in mimicing exact sentence structures, style, and word usage. None of it was my own writing. My own writing turns into what my Nanowrimo was - stream-of-conciousness crap that doesn't describe beautiful landscapes, but merely says what the character is thinking at that particular moment, which may or may not have anything to do with the story itself. I also use a lot of run-on sentences which, in whole, are not necessary at all.
I don't wish I wrote like this author, but I certainly feel for her plea to write like the authors she admires.
I can vacillate lengthily, and foolishly, over whether to read at random (as I did on my bed in the fading light) or in some programmed way (as we all did in school). I like to cling to the John Cage-ish principle that if randomness determines the universe it might as well determine my reading too; to impose order is to strain against the nature of things. (101)
I mentioned this in my last review of Kurt Vonnegut's Sirens of Titan, and may have mentioned it previous to that. This year has been a year of structure, at least up until the last few months. I followed faithfully the outlines I'd made for myself sometime nearing the end of last year - read these certain of books by this date, and these books by this date, and make sure these books are read one per month, even if you don't like them. It was that "not liking them" part that destroyed all hope of an outlined future. The appeal of reading randomly is greater than that of the structured "things I should read in the future" idea. I'd like to read my Milan Kundera books, but I'll plan for them to be completed sometime before my death, rather than by June 18, 2008.
"Text" and "subtext" are more fitting for analyzing dreams than writing. We accept that the dream images and events are not "really" what the dream is about, but the available detritus of the day, slyly adapted to shield the dream's actual "meaning." Writing is not dreaming. True, we must write about something. There must be events and images and furniture to occupy the reader and writer while the elusive other thing - the idea, the book's raison d'etre - snakes its way along. But the beauty of a story, unlike a dream, is that the screen of events and furniture becomes primary. The original, embryonic idea, if there is one, adapts to fit their shape, rather than the reverse. (110)
I'm going to pull from my experience at Nanowrimo once again, and I promise it's the last time in this entry. My novel fit under the genre of "literary fiction" and I put it there because it didn't seem to fit anywhere else. It didn't have a real ending, and it was more about the characters and their experiences as well as what I had to say about a possible afterlife, than it was about the broken plot. In my time hanging out at the Nanowrimo Literary Fiction Forum, I found that a lot of people do write this "subtext" in "text" that is in dreams (according to Schwartz). There is meaning behind the words, and it's so vast and euphoric that most people probably won't even be able to understand what it is!
Point being that I don't entirely agree with the notion that people always write books with no "subtext." Whether or not it's something they actively had in mind while writing, I bet you it's there, and I bet you it's screaming out to be released but you're just not listening. Unless, of course, you're reading mostly the basest form of mainstream fiction, in which case I would totally understand if your books didn't mean anything at all except what is being literally written.
The idea, in other words, does not adapt. The characters do. The "plot" does. The idea is always there, lurking behind shadowy corners ready to jump out at the reader.
This is a fitting entry in reply to this book. My thoughts are everywhere with no discernable connection, and you as the reader can't really tell what the point of this post is at all. Is there an argument? What is my main statement? Can you even tell if I liked the book or not? Who knows? I mean, it didn't appear to be important to Schwartz to write what is advertised by the title, subtitle, and praise quotes, so I find it just as appropriate to leave this entry as is.
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LibraryThing member bell7
"To read more is a handicap. It is better to keep your own mind free and to not let the thinking of others interfere with your own free thinking."
This unlikely quote from one Mr. Cha sets Lynne Schwartz thinking about her own experience reading. The delightful short book - almost an extended essay
This unlikely quote from one Mr. Cha sets Lynne Schwartz thinking about her own experience reading. The delightful short book - almost an extended essay
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- that follows traces her reading life from impressing her father's friends with her ability to read the newspaper at a young age through college where she's introduced to the canon. Schwartz reflects on her reading experiences in a way that will resonate with many readers: "There is nothing to match the affinity of people who were defined and nourished by the same book, who shared a fantasy life." Well, even if you don't share the same mental library as she does, you'll probably enjoy ruminating on the topics that she tackles, from movie adaptations to a more inclusive canon to whether one should read serendipitously or use a list. You may not agree with her takes, but that's the fun of reading, isn't it? Show Less
LibraryThing member streamsong
“In any case the books I have wanted to write brood about what I brood about and they move in uncannily familiar rhythms. Reading them I feel caught out. Some stranger, like the author of Cornelli, has preempted my secrets. I am disarmed, but less alone”. P 68
On books made into movies:“Why
These essays on reading were like having a very literate summary of many of my rather hazy thoughts about why I read. It was often like discovering something I already knew, but had not been able to articulate.
The author’s thoughts and my own are definitely in sync. In places where they are not (I do often enjoy movies made from books), I enjoyed her thoughtful point of view.
On books made into movies:“Why
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can’t I appreciate each on its own terms? Because when I’ve read the book, I stubbornly don’t want anything else. Why should I, when I’ve had the real thing, as originally conceived? Form and content are inseparable, and Greta Garbo, bewitching as she is, is not the Anna Karenina Tolstoy envisioned. If the form changes, the content must change.” P78These essays on reading were like having a very literate summary of many of my rather hazy thoughts about why I read. It was often like discovering something I already knew, but had not been able to articulate.
The author’s thoughts and my own are definitely in sync. In places where they are not (I do often enjoy movies made from books), I enjoyed her thoughtful point of view.
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LibraryThing member MarthaHuntley
I recently read Disturbances in the Field by Lynne Sharon Schwartz and was enthralled by it. I wanted to know more about its gifted author, and this memoir of her reading life is about as biographical as anything I've been able to find. Her mind is so fine and facile, that it is a delight to spend
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time in her presence, her books. So I have reread both Ruined by Reading and Disturbances in the Field a second time, something I almost never do. Show Less
LibraryThing member Othemts
Schwartz, an author, reflects on her life of avid reading. Is it harmful? Is it beneficial? Does it add to life or does it shelter one from life? Interesting questions, but most of this book is a monologue that reads a bit self-centered and pompous for my tastes. Luckily it was a short read or I
"For in the end, even if all my books were to vanish, I would still have them somewhere, if I had read them attentively enough. Maybe the words on the page are not even the true book, in the end, only a gateway to the book that recreates itself in the mind and lasts as long as we do." - p. 85
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would have put it down without finishing. "For in the end, even if all my books were to vanish, I would still have them somewhere, if I had read them attentively enough. Maybe the words on the page are not even the true book, in the end, only a gateway to the book that recreates itself in the mind and lasts as long as we do." - p. 85
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LibraryThing member LouCypher
This was an okay read for me. Had some insightful thoughts and okay storytelling of her life but nothing seemed to jump out and make me want more. Did learn about about 30 other books I would like to read from this though which made it worthwhile.
LibraryThing member bookczuk
When I this at the Friends of the Library booksale, one of my favorite quotes (from Louisa May Alcott) came to mind, "She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain."
There were many times the narrative struck close to home -- I too am a book addict, and would be a member of readers
Despite our shared love of books, what I liked best about this volume were the glimpses into the world of Brooklyn that my mother and grandmother inhabited. We have our own family stories about iceboxes and the stoops of brownstones. She also brought to mind my earliest memories, mostly centered around reading and books. Maybe someday, I'll write it all up so that others can stumble upon the stories at a booksale, and awaken a loving, lingering walk through memories of People of the Book.
There were many times the narrative struck close to home -- I too am a book addict, and would be a member of readers
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anonymous, were there such a group. Some bookish habits and delights the author and I share, while we branch out a bit on others. My parents were also People of the Book, (though I did tire of that refrain a bit), and my children learned early on that though I might say no to an impluse buy of Power Rangers or My Little Pony, I would probably never refuse them a book.Despite our shared love of books, what I liked best about this volume were the glimpses into the world of Brooklyn that my mother and grandmother inhabited. We have our own family stories about iceboxes and the stoops of brownstones. She also brought to mind my earliest memories, mostly centered around reading and books. Maybe someday, I'll write it all up so that others can stumble upon the stories at a booksale, and awaken a loving, lingering walk through memories of People of the Book.
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LibraryThing member tloeffler
A long essay about Ms. Schwartz' life of books. Sometimes interesting, and some great book recommendations, but no chapter breaks, and there was quite a bit of bouncing from subject to subject. It was a good read, but not as well put together as I would have liked.
LibraryThing member jwhenderson
This is a book that I expected to like more than I ultimately did. It seemed like two books: one book is about reading books and the impact of that reading on one's life, and the other is about the obsessions of a young girl with books like Little Women and The Little Princess. The latter aspect of
Ruined by Reading provides an interesting narrative introduction to reading a variety of books. For those, like myself, who enjoy reading books about books that would be recommendation enough. The discussion of the importance of style and the difference between books in which style is preeminent and those that rely on plot and perhaps an exciting character or two is informative. But I cannot say the same about the digressions into details of some books which are of marginal interest or discussions of movie versions of books that the author has not read.
In spite of these aspects of this short book I did enjoy reading about the impact of reading on the author's life even if I found that it was neither ruinous nor enchanting.
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this book I found interesting as a sociological or psychological statement about young girls but not as a statement about the nature and impact of reading. We all have our obsessions as readers and some, like those of the author, started at a young age. I have read and reread books like Jane Eyre and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland my whole life, but they have changed as I have grown and matured, just as my interest in books has changed. Ruined by Reading provides an interesting narrative introduction to reading a variety of books. For those, like myself, who enjoy reading books about books that would be recommendation enough. The discussion of the importance of style and the difference between books in which style is preeminent and those that rely on plot and perhaps an exciting character or two is informative. But I cannot say the same about the digressions into details of some books which are of marginal interest or discussions of movie versions of books that the author has not read.
In spite of these aspects of this short book I did enjoy reading about the impact of reading on the author's life even if I found that it was neither ruinous nor enchanting.
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LibraryThing member ecataldi
I thought the concept of this book was phenomenal but I was a little disappointed with the end result. It was a good read, albeit a little wordy, and the author conveyed her passion for the written word with much zeal and enthusiasm. It had a tendency to ramble on however and there was no clear
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format or organization. It was just a long essay on a lifetime of reading and how it had impacted the author. One quote that did stick with me, "Yet unlike love, reading is a pure activity. It will gain us nothing but enchantment of the heart." As a fellow bookworm I couldn't agree more. Show Less
LibraryThing member Sopoforic
Capsule review: Part memoir, part musing on reading. Interesting and readable, if rather meandering.
LibraryThing member polywogg
PLOT OR PREMISE:
Schwarz starts with a commentary by a Chinese scholar that some people are handicapped by reading too much, and not thinking enough about what they read. From there, she looks at the books she has read in her life and the role they have played. It is not a heavy analytical tone
.
WHAT I LIKED:
"There are a number of sections that are quite well done, such as:
.
- Emptying your mind for meditation vs. filling it up during a life spent reading (pg. 14);
- On the un-importance of the authors vs. the impact of the words themselves (pg. 17);
- A life spent reading (pg. 96);
- Choices of reading material (pg. 107);
- Ruined by reading (pg. 114); and,
- On self (pg. 119)."
.
WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:
Some of the sections could have benefited from a bit more analysis and historical context, not just the personal impact in her own life.
.
BOTTOM-LINE:
Tone was pleasant, but not a serious work
.
DISCLOSURE:
I received no compensation, not even a free copy, in exchange for this review. I am not personal friends with the author, nor do I follow her on social media.
Schwarz starts with a commentary by a Chinese scholar that some people are handicapped by reading too much, and not thinking enough about what they read. From there, she looks at the books she has read in her life and the role they have played. It is not a heavy analytical tone
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throughout, but rather a personal commentary on the books that have been important to her in her life, and the elements of her life that took place in and around books..
WHAT I LIKED:
"There are a number of sections that are quite well done, such as:
.
- Emptying your mind for meditation vs. filling it up during a life spent reading (pg. 14);
- On the un-importance of the authors vs. the impact of the words themselves (pg. 17);
- A life spent reading (pg. 96);
- Choices of reading material (pg. 107);
- Ruined by reading (pg. 114); and,
- On self (pg. 119)."
.
WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:
Some of the sections could have benefited from a bit more analysis and historical context, not just the personal impact in her own life.
.
BOTTOM-LINE:
Tone was pleasant, but not a serious work
.
DISCLOSURE:
I received no compensation, not even a free copy, in exchange for this review. I am not personal friends with the author, nor do I follow her on social media.
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LibraryThing member Jeannine504
A garden of verbal delights - "useful but unloved cat" and "grief not graced with word" are just a few examples of her inventive language.
Subjects
Language
Original publication date
1996
Physical description
119 p.; 8.2 inches
ISBN
0807070831 / 9780807070833
UPC
046442070836