This is a book for readers and for those who wish to become readers. Particularly, it is for readers of books.
Even more particularly, it is for those whose main purpose in reading books is to gain increased understanding.
By "readers" we mean people who are still accustomed, as almost every literate and intelligent person
used to be, to gain a large share of their information about and their understanding of the world from the written
word. Not all of it, of course; even in the days before radio and television, a certain amount of information and
understanding was acquired through spoken words and through observation. But for intelligent and curious people
that was never enough. They knew that they had to read too, and they did read.
There is some feeling nowadays that reading is not as necessary as it once was. Radio and especially television
have taken over many of the functions once served by print, just as photography has taken over functions once served
by painting and other graphic arts. Admittedly, television serves some of these functions extremely well; the visual
communication of news events, for example, has enormous impact. The ability of radio to give us information while
we are engaged in doing other things -- for instance, driving a caris remarkable, and a great saving of time. But
it may be seriously questioned whether the advent of modern communications media has much enhanced our understanding
of the world in which we live.
Perhaps we know more about the world than we used to, and insofar as knowledge is prerequisite to understanding,
that is all to the good. But knowledge is not as much a prerequisite to understanding as is commonly supposed.
We do not have to know everything about something in order to understand it; too many facts are often
as much of an obstacle to understanding as too few. There is a sense in which we moderns are inundated with facts
to the detriment of understanding.
One of the reasons for this situation is that the very media we have mentioned are so designed as to make thinking
seem unnecessary (though this is only an appearance). The packaging of intellectual positions and views is one
of the most active enterprises of some of the best minds of our day. The viewer of television, the listener to
radio, the reader of magazines, is presented with a whole complex of elements -- all the way from ingenious rhetoric
to carefully selected data and statistics -- to make it easy for him to "make up his own mind" with the
minimum of difficulty and effort. But the packaging is often done so effectively that the viewer, listener, or
reader does not make up his own mind at all. Instead, he inserts a packaged opinion into his mind, somewhat like
inserting a cassette into a cassette player. He then pushes a button and "plays back" the opinion whenever
it seems appropriate to do so. He has performed acceptably without having had to think.
Active Reading
As we said at the beginning, we will be principally concerned in these pages with the development of skill in
reading books; but the rules of reading that, if followed and practiced, develop such skill can be applied also
to printed material in general, to any type of reading matter -- to newspapers, magazines, pamphlets, articles,
tracts, even advertisements.
Since reading of any sort is an activity, all reading must to some degree be active. Completely passive reading
is impossible; we cannot read with our eyes immobilized and our minds asleep. Hence when we contrast active with
passive reading, our purpose is, first, to call attention to the fact that reading can be more or less
active, and second, to point out that the more active the reading the better. One reader is better
than another in proportion as he is capable of a greater range of activity in reading and exerts more effort. He
is better if he demands more of himself and of the text before him.
Though, strictly speaking, there can be no absolutely passive reading, many people think that, as compared with
writing and speaking, which are obviously active undertakings, reading and listening are entirely passive. The
writer or speaker must put out some effort, but no work need be done by the reader or listener. Reading and listening
are thought of as receiving communication from someone who is actively engaged in giving or sending
it. The mistake here is to suppose that receiving communication is like receiving a blow or a legacy or a judgment
from the court. On the contrary, the reader or listener is much more like the catcher in a game of baseball.
Catching the ball is just as much an activity as pitching or hitting it. The pitcher or batter is the sender
in the sense that his activity initiates the motion of the ball. The catcher or fielder is the receiver
in the sense that his activity terminates it. Both are active, though the activities are different. If anything
is passive, it is the ball. It is the inert thing that is put in motion or stopped, whereas the players are active,
moving to pitch, hit, or catch. The analogy with writing and reading is almost perfect. The thing that is written
and read, like the ball, is the passive object common to the two activities that begin and terminate the process.
We can take this analogy a step further. The art of catching is the skill of catching every kind of pitch --
fast bails and curves, changeups and knucklers. Similarly, the art of reading is the skill of catching every sort
of communication as well as possible.
It is noteworthy that the pitcher and catcher are successful only to the extent that they cooperate. The relation
of writer and reader is similar. The writer isn't trying not to be caught, although it sometimes seems so.
Successful communication occurs in any case where what the writer wanted to have received finds its way into the
reader's possession. The writer's skill and the reader's skill converge upon a common end.
Admittedly, writers vary, just as pitchers do. Some writers have excellent "control"; they know exactly
what they want to convey, and they convey it precisely and accurately. Other things being equal, they are easier
to "catch" than a "wild" writer without "control."
There is one respect in which the analogy breaks down. The ball is a simple unit. It is either completely
caught or not. A piece of writing, however, is a complex object. It can be received more or less completely, all
the way from very little of what the writer intended to the whole of it. The amount the reader "catches"
will usually depend on the amount of activity he puts into the process, as well as upon the skill with which he
executes the different mental acts involved.
What does active reading entail? We will return to this question many times in this book. For the moment, it
suffices to say that, given the same thing to read, one person reads it better than another, first, by reading
it more actively, and second, by performing each of the acts involved more skillfully. These two things are related.
Reading is a complex activity, just as writing is. It consists of a large number of separate acts, all of which
must be performed in a good reading. The person who can perform more of them is better able to read.
> The Goals of Reading:
Reading for Information and Reading for Understanding
You have a mind. Now let us suppose that you also have a book that you want to read. The book consists of language
written by someone for the sake of communicating something to you. Your success in reading it is determined by
the extent to which you receive everything the writer intended to communicate.
That, of course, is too simple. The reason is that there are two possible relations between your mind and the
book, not just one. These two relations are exemplified by two different experiences that you can have in reading
your book.
There is the book; and here is your mind. As you go through the pages, either you understand perfectly everything
the author has to say or you do not. If you do, you may have gained information, but you could not have increased
your understanding. If the book is completely intelligible to you from start to finish, then the author and you
are as two minds in the same mold. The symbols on the page merely express the common understanding you had before
you met.
Let us take our second alternative. You do not understand the book perfectly. Let us even assume -- what unhappily
is not always true -- that you understand enough to know that you do not understand it all. You know the book has
more to say than you understand and hence that it contains something that can increase your understanding.
What do you do then? You can take the book to someone else who, you think, can read better than you, and have
him explain the parts that trouble you. ("He" may be a living person or another book -- a commentary
or textbook. ) Or you may decide that what is over your head is not worth bothering about, that you understand
enough. In either case, you are not doing the job of reading that the book requires.
That is done in only one way. Without external help of any sort, you go to work on the book. With nothing but
the power of your own mind, you operate on the symbols before you in such a way that you gradually lift yourself
from a state of understanding less to one of understanding more. Such elevation, accomplished by the mind
working on a book, is highly skilled reading, the kind of reading that a book which challenges your understanding
deserves.
Thus we can roughly define what we mean by the art of reading as follows: the process whereby a mind, with nothing
to operate on but the symbols of the readable matter, and with no help from outside, elevates itself by the power
of its own operations. The mind passes from understanding less to understanding more. The skilled operations that
cause this to happen are the various acts that constitute the art of reading.
To pass from understanding less to understanding more by your own intellectual effort in reading is something
like pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. It certainly feels that way. It is a major exertion. Obviously, it
is a more active kind of reading than you have done before, entailing not only more varied activity but also much
more skill in the performance of the various acts required. Obviously, too, the things that are usually regarded
as more difficult to read, and hence as only for the better reader, are those that are more likely to deserve and
demand this kind of reading.
The distinction between reading for information and reading for understanding is deeper than this. Let us try
to say more about it. We will have to consider both goals of reading because the line between what is readable
in one way and what must be read in the other is often hazy. To the extent that we can keep these two goals of
reading distinct, we can employ the word "reading" in two distinct senses.
The first sense is the one in which we speak of ourselves as reading newspapers, magazines, or anything else
that, according to our skill and talents, is at once thoroughly intelligible to us. Such things may increase our
store of information, but they cannot improve our understanding, for our understanding was equal to them before
we started. Otherwise, we would have felt the shock of puzzlement and perplexity that comes from getting in over
our depth - that is, if we were both alert and honest.
The second sense is the one in which a person tries to read something that at first he does not completely understand.
Here the thing to be read is initially better or higher than the reader. The writer is communicating something
that can increase the reader's understanding. Such communication between unequals must be possible, or else one
person could never learn from another, either through speech or writing. Here by "learning" is meant
understanding more, not remembering more information that has the same degree of intelligibility as other information
you already possess.
There is clearly no difficulty of an intellectual sort about gaining new information in the course of reading
if the new facts are of the same sort as those you already know. A person who knows some of the facts of American
history and understands them in a certain light can readily acquire by reading, in the first sense, more such facts
and understand them in the same light. But suppose he is reading a history that seeks not merely to give him some
more facts but also to throw a new and perhaps more revealing light on all the facts he knows. Suppose there
is greater understanding available here than he possessed before he started to read. If he can manage to acquire
that greater understanding, he is reading in the second sense. He has indeed elevated himself by his activity,
though indirectly, of course, the elevation was made possible by the writer who had something to teach him.
What are the conditions under which this kind of reading -- reading for understanding -- takes place? There
are two. First, there is initial inequality in understanding. The writer must be "superior" to
the reader in understanding, and his book must convey in readable form the insights he possesses and his potential
readers lack. Second, the reader must be able to overcome this inequality in some degree, seldom perhaps
fully, but always approaching equality with the writer. To the extent that equality is approached, clarity of communication
is achieved.
In short, we can learn only from our "betters." We must know who they are and how to learn from them.
The person who has this sort of knowledge possesses the art of reading in the sense with which we are especially
concerned in this book. Everyone who can read at all probably has some ability to read in this way. But all of
us, without exception, can learn to read better and gradually gain more by our efforts through applying them to
more rewarding materials.
We do not want to give the impression that facts, leading to increased information, and insights, leading to
increased understanding, are always easy to distinguish. And we would admit that sometimes a mere recital of facts
can itself lead to greater understanding. The point we want to emphasize here is that this book is about the art
of reading for the sake of increased understanding. Fortunately, if you learn to do that, reading for information
will usually take care of itself.
Of course, there is still another goal of reading, besides gaining information and understanding, and that is
entertainment. However, this book will not be much concerned with reading for entertainment. It is the least demanding
kind of reading, and it requires the least amount of effort. Furthermore, there are no rules for it. Everyone who
knows how to read at all can read for entertainment if he wants to.
In fact, any book that can be read for understanding or information can probably be read for entertainment as
well, just as a book that is capable of increasing our understanding can also be read purely for the information
it contains. (This proposition cannot be reversed: it is not true that every book that can be read
for entertainment can also be read for understanding. ) Nor do we wish to urge you never to read a good book for
entertainment. The point is, if you wish to read a good book for understanding, we believe we can help you. Our
subject, then, is the art of reading good books when understanding is the aim you have in view.
Reading as Learning:
The Difference Between Learning by Instruction and Learning by Discovery
Getting more information is learning, and so is coming to understand what you did not understand before. But
there is an important difference between these two kinds of learning.
To be informed is to know simply that something is the case. To be enlightened is to know, in addition, what
it is all about: why it is the case, what its connections are with other facts, in what respects it is the same,
in what respects it is different, and so forth.
This distinction is familiar in terms of the differences between being able to remember something and being
able to explain it. if you remember what an author says, you have learned something from reading him. If what he
says is true, you have even learned something about the world. But whether it is a fact about the book or a fact
about the world that you have learned, you have gained nothing but information if you have exercised only your
memory. You have not been enlightened. Enlightenment is achieved only when, in addition to knowing what an author
says, you know what he means and why he says it.
It is true, of course, that you should be able to remember what the author said as well as know what he meant.
Being informed is prerequisite to being enlightened. The point, however, is not to stop at being informed.
Montaigne speaks of "an abecedarian ignorance that precedes knowledge, and a doctoral ignorance that comes
after it." The first is the ignorance of those who, not knowing their ABC's, cannot read at all. The second
is the ignorance of those who have misread many books. They are, as Alexander Pope rightly calls them, bookful
blockheads, ignorantly read. There have always been literate ignoramuses who have read too widely and not well.
The Greeks had a name for such a mixture of learning and folly which might be applied to the bookish but poorly
read of all ages. They are all sophomores.
To avoid this error -- the error of assuming that to be widely read and to be well-read are the same thing --
we must consider a certain distinction in types of learning. This distinction has a significant bearing on the
whole business of reading and its relation to education generally.
In the history of education, men have often distinguished between learning by instruction and learning by discovery.
Instruction occurs when one person teaches another through speech or writing. We can, however, gain knowledge without
being taught. If this were not the case, and every teacher had to be taught what he in turn teaches others, there
would be no beginning in the acquisition of knowledge. Hence, there must be discovery -- the process of learning
something by research, by investigation, or by reflection, without being taught.
Discovery stands to instruction as learning without a teacher stands to learning through the help of one. In
both cases, the activity of learning goes on in the one who learns. It would be a mistake to suppose that discovery
is active learning and instruction passive. There is no inactive learning, just as there is no inactive reading.
This is so true, in fact, that a better way to make the distinction clear is to call instruction "aided
discovery." Without going into learning theory as psychologists conceive it, it is obvious that teaching is
a very special art, sharing with only two other arts -- agriculture and medicine -- an exceptionally important
characteristic. A doctor may do many things for his patient, but in the final analysis it is the patient himself
who must get well -- grow in health. The farmer does many things for his plants or animals, but in the final analysis
it is they that must grow in size and excellence. Similarly, although the teacher may help his student in many
ways, it is the student himself who must do the learning. Knowledge must grow in his mind if learning is to take
place.
The difference between learning by instruction and learning by discovery -- or, as we would prefer to say, between
aided and unaided discovery -- is primarily a difference in the materials on which the learner works. When he is
being instructed -- discovering with the help of a teacher -- the learner acts on something communicated to him.
He performs operations on discourse, written or oral. He learns by acts of reading or listening. Note here the
close relation between reading and listening. If we ignore the minor differences between these two ways of receiving
communication, we can say that reading and listening are the same art -- the art of being taught. When, however,
the learner proceeds without the help of any sort of teacher, the operations of learning are performed on nature
or the world rather than on discourse. The rules of such learning constitute the art of unaided discovery. If we
use the word "reading" loosely, we can say that discovery -- strictly, unaided discovery -- is the art
of reading nature or the world, as instruction (being taught, or aided discovery) is the art of reading books or,
to include listening, of learning from discourse.
What about thinking? If by "thinking" we mean the use of our minds to gain knowledge or understanding,
and if learning by discovery and learning by instruction exhaust the ways of gaining knowledge, then thinking must
take place during both of these two activities. We must think in the course of reading and listening, just as we
must think in the course of research. Naturally, the kinds of thinking are different -- as different as the two
ways of learning are.
The reason why many people regard thinking as more closely associated with research and unaided discovery than
with being taught is that they suppose reading and listening to be relatively effortless. It is probably true that
one does less thinking when one reads for information or entertainment than when one is undertaking to discover
something. Those are the less active sorts of reading. But it is not true of the more active reading -- the effort
to understand. No one who has done this sort of reading would say it can be done thoughtlessly.
Thinking is only one part of the activity of learning. One must also use one's senses and imagination. One must
observe, and remember, and construct imaginatively what cannot be observed. There is, again, a tendency to stress
the role of these activities in the process of unaided discovery and to forget or minimize their place in the process
of being taught through reading or listening. For example, many people assume that though a poet must use his imagination
in writing a poem, they do not have to use their imagination in reading it. The art of reading, in short, includes
all of the same skills that are involved in the art of unaided discovery: keenness of observation, readily available
memory, range of imagination, and, of course, an intellect trained in analysis and reflection. The reason for this
is that reading in this sense is discovery, too -- although with help instead of without it.
Present and Absent Teachers
We have been proceeding as if reading and listening could both be treated as learning from teachers. To
some extent that is true. Both are ways of being instructed, and for both one must be skilled in the art of being
taught. Listening to a course of lectures, for example, is in many respects like reading a book; and listening
to a poem is like reading it. Many of the rules to be formulated in this book apply to such experiences. Yet there
is good reason to place primary emphasis on reading, and let listening become a secondary concern. The reason is
that listening is learning from a teacher who is present -- a living teacher -- while reading is learning from
one who is absent.
If you ask a living teacher a question, he will probably answer you. If you are puzzled by what he says,
you can save yourself the trouble of thinking by asking him what he means. If, however, you ask a book a question,
you must answer it yourself. In this respect a book is like nature or the world. When you question it, it
answers you only to the extent that you do the work of thinking and analysis yourself.
This does not mean, of course, that if the living teacher answers your question, you have no further work.
That is so only if the question is simply one of fact. But if you are seeking an explanation, you have to understand
it or nothing has been explained to you. Nevertheless, with the living teacher available to you, you are given
a lift in the direction of understanding him, as you are not when the teacher's words in a book are all you have
to go by.
Students in school often read difficult books with the help and guidance of teachers. But for those of
us who are not in school, and indeed also for those of us who are when we try to read books that are not required
or assigned, our continuing education depends mainly on books alone, read without a teacher's help. Therefore if
we are disposed to go on learning and discovering, we must know how to make books teach us well. That, indeed,
is the primary goal of this book.
No one reads all kinds of books the same way. 'How to Read a Book' is a guide to reading comprehension for the
general reader. The author provides help in understanding how to read literature, history, poetry and fiction to
name a few of the various types of reading discussed.
Table of Contents
PART ONE
THE DIMENSIONS OF READING
1. The Activity and Art of Reading
Active Reading
The Goals of Reading: Reading for Information and Reading for Understanding
Reading as Learning: The Difference Between Learning by Instruction and Learning by Discovery
Present and Absent Teachers
2. The Levels of Reading
3. The First Level of Reading: Elementary Reading
Stages of Learning to Read
Stages and Levels
Higher Levels of Reading and Higher Education
Reading and the Democratic Ideal of Education
4. The Second Level of Reading: Inspectional Reading
Inspectional Reading I Systematic Skimming or Prereading
Inspectional Reading II: Superficial Reading
On Reading Speeds
Fixations and Regressions
The Problem of Comprehension
Summary of Inspectional Reading
5. How to Be a Demanding Reader
The Essence of Active Reading: The Four Basic Questions a Reader Asks
How to Make a Book Your Own
The Three Kinds of Note-making
Forming the Habit of Reading
From Many Rules to One Habit
PART TWO
THE THIRD LEVEL OF READING: ANALYTICAL READING
6. Pigeonholing a Book
The Importance of Classifying Books
What You Can Learn from the Title of a Book
Practical vs. Theoretical Books
Kinds of Theoretical Books
7. X-raying a Book
Of Plots and Plans: Stating the Unity of a Book
Mastering the Multiplicity: The Art of Outlining a Book
The Reciprocal Arts of Reading and Writing
Discovering the Author's Intentions
The First Stage of Analytical Reading
8. Coming to Terms with an Author
Words vs. Terms
Finding the Key Words
Technical Words and Special Vocabularies
Finding the Meanings
9. Determining an Author's Message
Sentences vs. Propositions
Finding the Key Sentences
Finding the Propositions
Finding the Arguments
Finding the Solutions
The Second Stage of Analytical Reading
10. Criticizing a Book Fairly
Teachability as a Virtue
The Role of Rhetoric
The Importance of Suspending Judgment
The Importance of Avoiding Contentiousness
On the Resolution of Disagreements
11. Agreeing or Disagreeing with an Author
Prejudice and Judgment
Judging the Author's Soundness
Judging the Author's Completeness
The Third Stage of Analytical Reading
12. Aids to Reading
The Role of Relevant Experience
Other Books as Extrinsic Aids to Reading
How to Use Commentaries and Abstracts
How to Use Reference Books
How to Use a Dictionary
How to Use an Encyclopedia
PART THREE
APPROACHES TO DIFFERENT KINDS OF READING MATTER
13. How to Read Practical Books
The Two Kinds of Practical Books
The Role of Persuasion
What Does Agreement Entail in the Case of a Practical Book?
14. How to Read Imaginative Literature
How Not to Read Imaginative Literature
General Rules for Reading Imaginative Literature
15. Suggestions for Reading Stories, Plays, and Poems
How to Read Stories
A Note About Epics
How to Read Plays
A Note About Tragedy
How to Read Lyric Poetry
16. How to Read History
The Elusiveness of Historical Facts
Theories of History
The Universal in History
Questions to Ask of a Historical Book
How to Read Biography and Autobiography
How to Read About Current Events
A Note on Digests
17. How to Read Science and Mathematics
Understanding the Scientific Enterprise
Suggestions for Reading Classical Scientific Books
Facing the Problem of Mathematics
Handling the Mathematics in Scientific Books
A Note on Popular Science
18. How to Read Philosophy
The Questions Philosophers Ask
Modern Philosophy and the Great Tradition
On Philosophical Method
On Philosophical Styles
Hints for Reading Philosophy
On Making Up Your Own Mind
A Note on Theology
How to Read "Canonical" Books
19. How to Read Social Science
What Is Social Science?
The Apparent Ease of Reading Social Science
Difficulties of Reading Social Science
Reading Social Science Literature
PART FOUR
THE ULTIMATE GOALS OF READING
20. The Fourth Level of Reading: Syntopical Reading
The Role of Inspection in Syntopical Reading
The Five Steps in Syntopical Reading
The Need for Objectivity
An Example of an Exercise in Syntopical Reading: The Idea of Progress
The Syntopicon and How to Use It
On the Principles That Underlie Syntopical Reading
Summary of Syntopical Reading
21. Reading and the Growth of the Mind
What Good Books Can Do for Us
The Pyramid of Books
The Life and Growth of the Mind
Appendix A. A Recommended Reading List
Appendix B. Exercises and Tests at the Four Levels of Reading
Index