I have written before on scholarly versus non-scholarly reading, but I haven’t really addressed the two together. So, here we go. My general argument or thesis here is that varied reading is beneficial, be that reading academic or not.
On the scholarly side, both for research/publication and teaching purposes, varied reading has benefits. For example, I read fair bit of ancient and medieval poetry covering about 1100-1500 ranging in subject from partying to loss to love to faith to revenge to lyric to epic etc; fiction and non-fiction prose relating to literary theory, travel writing, science, history, theology; and in Middle English, Early Modern English, and Latin both Classical and Church. This means that I can (and do) teach (among other things) Chaucer as well as Brit Lit 1, composition, Renaissance Literature (except Shakespeare), History of English, literary theory, and Mythology for Students of Literature. It also means I can do conference presentations and articles on anything from Ovid and Catullus to Marco Polo to the use of Virgil in the late Antique Christian epic to Chaucer to Terry Pratchett to W.S. Caine (author of Picturesque India: A Handbook for European Travellers, 1891) to Thomas Aquinas or Peter Abelard.
On the personal fun reading side, lately I’ve been into fantasy (Black Water Sister and The Quicksilver Court), science fiction (Murderbot Diaries), manga (Bungo Stray Dogs, My Hero Academia, and The Ancient Magus’ Bride), comics (Ms. Marvel), cookbooks (The Korean Vegan Cookbook) and food writing (The Wild Vine), mystery (Deception by Gaslight), YA (Any Way the Wind Blows, Dark Rise), science stuff (Entangled Life, The Disappearing Spoon), speculative fiction (Psalm for the Wild-Built, Alif the Unseen), and the occasional random thing like Code Breaker (science biography) or Chrysanthemum (sort of cultural/botanical history).
I would see this as a reasonable mix of subjects, styles, and content, with a tilt towards sci-fi and fantasy. Why this sort of thing works for me is that I both enjoy a lot of it personally (all medieval poetry and nothing else gets old after a while, no offense to Chaucer et al.), and sometimes it can be useful professionally. Most every spring, for example, I have to choose a novel or novella for an introduction to literature core class that’s required of most students at my institution. I need something that students might actually read but hopefully haven’t read before (because then they probably won’t go far outside of whatever their previous teacher taught). It’s also a bonus if the novel is recent enough that it doesn’t have plot summaries, study guides, and sample papers all over the interwebs (a big reason why I will likely never assign something like Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone). Reading things I may not necessarily otherwise do for myself has found me a few things that have worked well in the past including Ink and Bone (YA alt-history) and The Secrets of Drearcliff Grange School (I’d call this one YA, but it’s usually shelved with ‘Fantasy’ or ‘Horror’ but whatever; fyi, the author of this one is a man, and for the relevance, see a few paragraphs below).
Besides the idea of varying reading for different intents and purposes, as suggested previously, the idea of trying to shame people for liking a certain style or genre isn’t a great thing. The argument of whether or not it is acceptable for those over the age of roughly 25 to read novels labeled as YA for themselves is the most recent example I can think of; it pops up every now and again in social media and pop culture discussions. Personally, I’m of the ‘if you like it, then read it’ mind-set. That said, people suggesting that a certain kind of person should only like certain kinds of things is not a new idea by a long short, and here’s where we get actually a little medieval via some Chaucer.
Consider Book 2 of Troilus and Criseyde; When Pandarus first greets Criseyde when he goes to visit her at the beginning of Book II, he immediately recognizes her book: “”ma dame, god ȝow see,/With al ȝoure book and al the compaignie.”” (II.85-86) Pandarus then suggests that he believes that reading is not the most attractive activity for a lady like his niece, but that it might be acceptable if the reading is about love:
But I am sory that I haue ȝow let
To herken of ȝoure book ȝe preysen thus.
ffor goddes loue, what seith it? telle it vs;
Is it of loue? O, som good ȝe me leere! (Tr II.94-7)
Pandarus assumed that the women were likely to be interested in only more frivolous subjects like love, and Criseyde gently corrects him by focusing on the political and theological aspects of what the women had actually just been reading, a romance about Thebes:
And we han herd how that kyng Layus deyde,
Thorugh Edippus his sone, and al that dede;
And here we stynten at thise lettres rede,
How the bisshop, as the book kan telle,
Amphiorax, fil thorugh the grounde to helle (Tr II.101-105)
Pandarus’ reaction is to gloss over what the women had been reading, and tell Criseyde that she should go dancing instead (II.110-112).
A similar moment also appears in The Canterbury Tales; in the end of the Nun’s Priest’s tale, the Priest suggests that tragic love stories like the one Lancelot is involved in are the kinds of things that most women read, and that women only care for frivolous fictions, similar to the fable about talking chickens that he just told. His claim is that:
This storie is also trewe, I undertake,
As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,
That wommen holde in ful greet reverence. (NPT VII.3211-3213)
Not only is the Nun’s Priest suggesting that women only like fantasy tales featuring chivalric heroes, he’s also suggesting that women don’t respect fact or intellect in what they read. The tale he just told was an animal fable in which the wise female, the hen Pertelote, subordinates herself to her cowardly and foolish husband, a rooster named Chauntecleer; this comparison inadvertently hints that the Priest might have some anxieties about smart women, which might have influenced his words and ideas.
While these examples are more specifically gendered than anything else, they actually do connect to the YA question of today. It is an observed phenomenon on literary social media (I speak specifically of Twitter in this case but the point comes up on other platforms as well) that a female writer of fantasy is considerably more likely to have her novel classified as “Young Adult” than a male writer, regardless of whether that was the intended audience or not.
There are two things that stand out to me about these Chaucerian examples: the group reading (which is documented as a fairly common practice in certain parts of the medieval world) and the judgement of what is proper for certain people. With the scene from Troilus and Criseyde, this might be loosely equivalent to the modern concept of “book club” with one major difference, namely that the reading of the book is actually done together in the group. The choice of Criseyde’s group is, as she explains to Pandarus, political and historical with some moral lessons included. It’s likely that Pandarus would have brushed off the activity no matter what the book was, given he is at his niece’s for the specific purpose of getting her to become interested in Troilus, but considering the political and historical nature of the setting of the story, it’s intriguing for some parallels. Ancient Troy was a popular subject in the medieval world for both fiction and non-fictional texts, as was Thebes (the subject of Criseyde’s text). Thebes is serving as a model to the Trojan ladies as Troy (and the ladies too) might serve as a source of chivalric romance OR historical politics to a reader of Chaucer’s time. The nature of both the politics, adventure, and chivalric romance in Troilus and Criseyde are all present in both backgrounds, so there’s some potential foreshadowing going on as well. Pandarus though completely ignores his niece as she tries to engage him in book-talk, and proceeds directly to the chivalric notions, as though that’s all she should be interested in. This is nearly the same position as the Nun’s Priest, although he (the Priest) is more direct about the gendered notions of what women do read or should be reading.
The book club part is where I’m going to bring things together. Book club choices can sometimes be dictated by what the type of people in the group are “supposed” to be interested in; for example, a ladies’ book club might either be focused on romance novels or literary fiction. Full disclosure: I don’t especially like either of these genres for personal reading. Titles often seem to chosen also by what’s popular at the moment like best-seller lists or being made into other media types; think Poldark a few years ago, or The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (currently on the NY Times list, where it’s been for about 20 weeks). There’s nothing inherently wrong with such books, and if you like this kind of thing and your club chose it, then good for you. However, having to read something (or feeling like you have to) that you don’t especially like for purely social expectations can make reading a real turn-off. Note: school reading is a whole different thing, but that’s another discussion. Sometimes being forced out of your comfort zone or broadening your horizons can be a good thing, but just because something is popular or considered ‘literary’ by/with people like yourself shouldn’t mean you have to like it too. Certainly there are ladies’ or general reading groups out there for those who enjoy mysteries, or sci-fi, or whatever, but most of the time you have to really go looking for those, and genre geekdom usually comes with its own prejudices as well.
If you know Chaucer’s story, then you know that once Criseyde gives up her book and goes along with Pandarus’ plan that she should get involved with an actual chivalric romantic attachment, things eventually get tragic. I’m not suggesting that giving up her book is the sole cause, but the timing does mark a turning point for her. Going along with only one kind of reading, what’s “acceptable” for someone like you, works out badly in that case, and Criseyde is aware of it, possibly in part thanks to her reading outside of the chivalric romance. She certainly seems to know the tropes well enough, as her reflections about whether or not to take action suggest.
A mix of breadth and depth of reading in whatever subjects and styles seems like a good idea in real life and fictional applications; look at how that turned out for Terry Pratchett who once said his reading was broad but not too deep into any one thing. Reading with other people can be a fine thing, but other people shouldn’t be the only reason you read something.
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