Why Do We Read?

By Julie Daines

I recently read a book that asks the question Why do we read?

The author--through the voice of one of the characters--suggests that in literature, everything has a meaning. But it is the experiences in our own lives that shape what the meaning is and how it affects us.

Reading causes us to ask deep questions. Like what is the meaning of my life? Why am I where I am in life? Where will this path lead me? What is good and what is evil? What is love? What is my role in my life's story?

He suggests that as we read, we relate to the characters in such a way that we find the part of our lives or personality that parallels them, and we become them.

He says, "If we take these stories too literally, if we expect our personal lives to always end with a handsome prince, most of us will close our books with shattered dreams. Yet, on the other hand...if we don't take the meaning of those stories literally, if we treat these tales as simply entertainment, we miss the deepest, most life-shanging aspects of the stories. We miss the entire reason they exist." (The Rent Collector by Camron Wright)

I've always believed that reading is more than just entertainment. That by picking up a good book, I'm learning something about life, and more importantly, learning something about myself.

So that's the question. Why do we read?

Sensory Details

By: Julie Daines        

When I was a kid, my mom had this crazy wallpaper in one of our bathrooms. It was black and white, and covered in pictures of cartoon people poised by outhouses—all kinds of outhouses, in trees, on beaches, in the woods.

Whenever I went in that bathroom, I’d stare at the wallpaper until I noticed something different, some tiny detail that I hadn’t seen before. The older I got, the harder I had to look, but eventually, I always found something.

One of my main characters in my current work in progress is blind from birth. It’s been a real challenge trying to “see” the world from her point of view. I’ve blindfolded myself just to see how long I could go without using my vision. It hasn’t been very long. I had a terrible hair day and typed several paragraphs with my fingers on the wrong keys.

But I did learn to pay attention to the other senses, and how those other senses make me feel. So, take a second and learn to notice.

Close your eyes in the shower. What does the water feel like when it hits your back? Your face? Does it relax you? Or hurt? (I’ve stayed in a friend’s house where the shower pressure was so strong the water stung. We had to cover the showerhead with a sock to diffuse the powerful spray.)

What does it sound like when you unload the dishwasher? Or start your car on these freezing cold mornings? What can you hear in bed at night? From my house, I can hear the train whistle—but only at night. It comforts me.

Take a bite of a food that you hate and focus on why it is you hate it? Is it the texture? Or the taste? Or does it remind you of hospital food? Close your eyes and run your hands over your desk. Or over your family’s faces. I’ve done that a lot recently, and it’s an interesting experience.

It’s these details that add life to our stories. We all know this, but sometimes, when we’re writing we get bogged down in the plot and our characters, and miss out on the opportunity for some great sensory details. 

These details gain value as they often become the source of symbolism and themes, and carry unifying motifs throughout the story. A splinter in the finger that grows, festers, and is finally removed. The smell of mom's bacon and eggs luring the family out of bed--until the mom dies, taking that smell with her. The touch and swish of a girl's first silk party dress becomes a symbol of her coming of age.

Symbolism in Literature: 3

This is my final segment on symbolism, at least for now. I just want to touch on a last idea to consider as we craft our stories.

I’m quoting Thomas C. Foster, who postulates, “There’s no such thing as a wholly original work of literature.” Everything is a rearranging of old ideas into something new and exciting. With that in mind, we can use these old ideas to heighten our reader’s imaginations by drawing from works of the past.

Take John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. To be east of Eden is to be outside of Eden, in a fallen and imperfect world. As children’s writers we should recognize that every story about the loss of innocence is a reenactment (on a personal level) of the fall from grace.

According to Geneses, after the fall “cherubim and a flaming sword” were placed to insure there could be no return. And that’s the poignant part of all loss of innocence stories—it’s permanent, there’s no going back. When it’s gone, it’s gone.

Whether a religious person or not, most readers are familiar with biblical symbolism. It’s a type of myth. There is a wealth of symbolism in Greek and Roman mythology, as well as legends of native cultures—such as the Celtic legend of the Fisher King or the Native American legend of the White Buffalo Woman, and other types of fairy-tales. (It didn’t take me long into Juliet Marillier’s Heart’s Blood to recognize another Beauty and the Beast. Did that lessen my enjoyment of the book? Not at all. I thoroughly enjoyed reading her marriage of the famous fairy tale with ancient Celtic myth.)

And let’s not forget Shakespeare. I recently read an article where a guy set out to list all the book titles pilfered from Shakespeare. He gave up after five hundred! Including Aldous Huxley, Charles Dickens, and John Steinbeck.

These are all wells of symbolism we can draw from. Mr. Thomas states, when we use this type of symbolism, the story resonates with the richness of distant antecedents, with the power of accumulated myth. The story ceases to be locked in the middle of the twentieth century and becomes timeless.

Symbolism in Literature: 2

This is part two of my Symbolism in Literature posts. I recently read a book that heightened my awareness of the symbolism I read in other books, and, more importantly, the symbolism—of lack thereof—in my own writing. Here is a brief summary of two concepts from the book, How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster.

Eating Together: The act of taking food into our bodies is so personal that we really only want to do it with people we feel comfortable with. For that reason when we, or our characters, choose to eat with others it says, “I’m with you, I like you, we form a community together.” We sense that without having to really think about it.

But reading about meals is not that interesting. We've all eaten great food, and unless we are reading Bon Appetit, we probably don't care that much about the delicious marinara sauce or the aroma of roasted turkey--we've all been there. So, to put characters in this mundane, overused, fairly boring situation, something more has to be happening than simply beef, forks, and goblets.

Consider then the deeper meanings inherent in different meal situations. A third person arrives unexpectedly and someone throws down a napkin and leaves the table. A slick villain invites an enemy to dine with him and then has him killed. Two men from opposing camps join up to share their skimpy rations.

The providing of food by one person to another is symbolic in itself: I care about you, I want to protect you. Which is why "I'm feeding you to keep you alive so I can kill you later" feels so wrong.

Weather: I think we all have a good grasp behind the symbolism of weather, but a quick review can’t hurt. Rain is probably the most common symbolic weather element. It is used as a plot device to force people together, seeking shelter, who might not otherwise come together or choose to be together. Rain is mysterious, isolating, and causes miserable conditions. Rain has a paradoxical side, it cleanses the earth and brings re-birth and new life (literally and symbolically) while at the same time creating mud, muck and disasters, and ushering in chills, colds, pneumonia and death. It is an equalizer, falling on both the just and the unjust.

Fog is used to symbolize confusion, a mental barrier, stoppage of time, an omen. Wind, snow, fire, clouds, no clouds, sunshine, darkness…there is no limit to the imagery weather can conjure up in our minds.

As writers, we can use symbolism to make our stories more effective and engage our readers imaginations on a more meaningful level

Julie Daines

www.juliedaines.com