books, not blogs

I just finished "Our Tempestuous Day: A History of Regency England" by Carolly Erickson, and then promptly forgot to bring it with me to return to the library. Still, it was a triumph to have finished. I like histories, and this was a good one, but they just don't pull me in the way novels do. I don't have to stay up late finishing them and, frankly, that's the way I'm most likely to get a book read.

And I am reading books again. For awhile, in love with the novelty of having a laptop, I just surfed the Web. It was bad for me. I love blogs, don’t get me wrong, and I have no compunction about reading the ones I’ve bothered to put on my Bloglines account. I wish more of my friends and family had blogs. But from blogs, I go to clicking links, and finding forums, and pretty soon an hour’s gone and I’m frustrated to find that I spent it doing, as Screwtape said, neither what I ought nor what I like.

So I’ve been making a point to read real books again. Even the ones that are just ripping good yarns, and not high literature. Although, honestly, name me a novel that is high literature and not a ripping good yarn. You could write a dozen dozen dissertations on the themes of Jane Eyre and not come to the end of your material, but isn’t it, first and foremost, a page-turner? I think it was Susan Howatch that said, when asked about her intentions in writing, that her first intention was to write well enough that the reader wanted to turn the page and read what happened next. All great themes and deep thoughts must bow to that discipline, the discipline of writing the readable.

As I said, I want to write this summer about ordinary holiness. And for me, part of ordinary holiness is being selective about how I spend my time, including my reading time. “Our Tempestuous Day”, “Christ in His Saints” and even the Star Trek novel I devoured last week (which had the virtue of having a classic good-vs.-evil plot) are better for me than blankly clicking links without actively deciding to read next what I’m going to read next. A book takes commitment, so I’m more likely to consider whether I should read it or not than I am to consider the virtue of reading the next webpage.

Again, there sure are websites worth reading. I’m not giving up the internet. I’m just returning to books. Especially the readable ones.

(And if you want a readable history of Regency England, “Our Tempestuous Day” is one. Even if it’s title prompts me to sing “Hail thee, Festival Day” over and over and over without realizing why.)

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell