More C.S. Lewis!

I realized the other day that I have been reading quite a lot of C.S. Lewis lately. Not only did I finish his cosmic trilogy, but I also just read An Experiment in Criticism and re-read The Screwtape Letters. I think my favorite part of the former was the very first chapter where Lewis distinguishes the "few" from the "many." The "few" are those who read a book more than once (10 to 30 times in their lifetime, Lewis says!), while the "many" consider a book they have already read to be dead and used up. The "few" are thrilled to find any spare moment in which to read, and are always seeking out that time, while the "many" read as a last resort, when there is nothing better to do. To the "few," reading a new book can be "an experience so momentous that only experiences of love, religion, or bereavement can furnish a standard of comparison" (3), but the "many" remain virtually unaffected and unchanged by their literary experiences. For the "few," the content and characters of their books are forever coming to mind and influencing their daily life as what Lewis calls an "iconography by which they interpret or sum up their own experience" (3), while the "many" don't think or talk about their reading much at all.

I remember being a child, and carrying a book around with me everywhere. Car rides were always occupied with reading, the dentist's office, grandma's house, even the dinner table when I could get away with it. Punishment for being naughty could mean not being allowed to read for a week. Characters from books were often my heroes, especially Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables. I was definately one of the "few." As I got older and entered high school, though, something changed. I started having trouble reading. It was very physical, and very difficult for me to explain. Even now, the best I can describe it is to say that when I looked at the page my mind was miles away, and I couldn't focus on the words at all. Reading became a chore and a burden, and I began to prefer more active pastimes as opposed to sitting still and using my mind. The phenomenon continued all the way up to my college years, and though I still got good grades in school, I lost my old, all-consuming hunger for pleasure reading. It wasn't until a year and a half ago, when I met a new friend and we began eagerly chatting about all the books we loved as children that I felt the fire rekindled in me. I owe it to this true kindred spirit for my finding joy in reading again. Although I still have some difficulties concentrating, I am slowly conquering.