Recently I said to a friend, “I fear that I’m reading so much material I’m forgetting the relevant aspects of the contents.”And this, especially as it applies to general fiction and short stories.
What I meant was that sometimes you can read so much that your mind tends to muddle the combined stories together, in a sort of blur.
Months, or a year later [or longer] you can’t really recall details about what you have read.
To this, she said, “They are a part of us - even if we forget about them - they are still with us somehow.”
This was encouraging.
But not only so.
I think it is also very true.
What we read, what we interact with on such a cerebral and heartfelt level, enters into the amalgam of who we are.
And the benefit is not based on regurgitation.
It’s based on absorption.
Like the blood coursing through my veins, I neither understand its function, nor would such an understanding help it along its way.
It just does what it does.
And without it, I cannot continue being who I am.
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5 comments:
So true. You don't remember every day of your life, do you? Yet you could speak about it for hours.
That is a terrific point, May!
Really, I had not thought of that aspect of it, but it's so true.
And what would my life be like - who would I be - without having absorbed so much wonderful material?
(That image? I think you found a picture of the man of my dreams!)
I completely agree. I've often thought of the books I've read as opportunities to incorporate different life stories into my own. Like somewhere in my mind I am benefiting from all of the experiences of the myriads of characters I have read about.
Do you ever get your stories muddled? Moving a character or plot point from one book and thinking it happened in another book? I do that sometimes. I like what May said.
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