To read or not to
read
Commentary
by JoELLEN COLLINS
"Without
knowledge, I am blind," one Afghani woman said. Another said,
"To read is to see."
The
New York Times, Sept.
22, 2002
Anybody
who watches television or checks the Internet can catch up quickly with
the most dramatic, violent and often salacious events out there
everyday.
A woman
caught beating her four-year-old? If one stays in front of a TV with a
remote control, one can see the videotape of that action repeated
endlessly for a public eager to cluck their tongues.
Certainly,
there are times when we are bombarded by disturbing images. No one can
criticize the impulse to turn off the TV and read a good book when such
exaggerated examples of human misconduct are everywhere on the tube. Two
friends of mine react to the onslaught of negative news in different
ways.
I am
talking in this column about newspapers, and the reality that many great
papers in the world are either changing to conform more to a sound-byte
mentality or are finding an increasingly resistant audience. The
brutality of the world does seem closer than ever; we are now aware of
man's inhumanity in vivid ways even my parents didn't experience with
the censored newsreels of World War II. Thus, several people I know are
opting not to spend time reading a daily newspaper. Locals will still
peruse this weekly, of course: we find news more interesting if it is
close to home. But what about the ritual of reading a morning paper? Is
that an activity we will soon relegate to some vague memory of a
different era, given all the other ways one can spend spare time?
One of my
friends is an admitted news junkie. When she visited me in Venice with
another friend, one of the three of us embarked every morning through
the maze of zigzag Venetian streets in search of a kiosk selling The
International Herald Tribune. Otherwise, her day was ruined, and ours
started much later.
Many
minutes were devoted to the acquisition of that particular drug, the
news. (I learned to appreciate the size and scope of The Trib, by the
way. It spends what I perceive is just the right amount of time on a
world-view of present history. There is a dearth of articles on tabloid
events such as extra-marital affairs or show-biz gossip.) So, this
friend chooses to read about the threatening events of an increasingly
scary world, learn the history and politics of important issues, and
feel enlightened by her reading.
Another
friend of mine has developed a view of daily news as hideous. He would
rather not confront man's terrible penchant for violence by reading
about the disasters of the world. Since he figures he can't change any
of that, he prefers to enjoy his spare time in hiking, watching sports
or finding some serenity on a daily basis. The news has become anathema.
Perhaps his view is sensible: why should I become disturbed by knowing
of the grief and pain that seems to be everywhere? Why should I expose
myself to these unhappy realities?
Perhaps
it’s better to wear blinders and keep to one’s own path without
distractions.
I am
somewhere in between. I don't look at a daily paper with regularity any
more, and when I do, I admit to reading occasional junk news along with
the more serious stuff. Before I open the "Opinion" section of
the Sunday New York Times, I turn to the magazine section and start the
Sunday puzzle or acrostic.
I love
gossip about celebrities and pore over carefully many items of
"non-essential" news such as book reviews or the entertainment
section. I am not immune to fluff. I even found myself looking over the
wedding page recently, studying the photos of the couples, wondering
what would become of them. This happened on the first day the Times
allowed a same-sex marriage to be covered in that section, which in
itself was newsworthy, a harbinger of society's changes.
I
certainly find myself reading about awful events, even though I can’t
change much that happens. The reality is that the world is full of
sadness. I was drawn to the coverage of the stories of those victims of
Sept. 11 featured in The Times, each person given due tribute and honor
for a life cut short. Those stories make me cry, but I still read them.
I don't understand why I willingly read something I know will make me
sad, but I do. The Greeks created a word for my emotional glut:
catharsis. Greek tragedy served, in part, to help people purge their
emotions through being swept up in the tragic currents portrayed on
stage. Maybe the paper is my Greek tragedy.
If I
didn't read papers, I would have missed the story on the first page of
the Sept. 22 edition of The New York Times. Next to a feature headlined,
"Israel tells U.S. it will Retaliate if Iraq Attacks," there
was a glorious story chronicling the discovery of learning by Afghani
women. Now that their daughters are finally allowed to attend school,
many women are staying in the classrooms with them. I was inspired by
the stories of the blossoming of these women, forbidden learning under
the Taliban, and reminded of my gratitude for the gift of being a woman
in a free society. "Without knowledge, I am blind," one woman
said. Another said, "To read is to see."
Now
that's worth looking at.