[ENG] Reading to understand, or to be understood?
Introduction
Reading is the only real thing that has been with me through my days for a few years now. Even though anyone who knew me when I was a kid would absolutely not say that, through reading I’ve found writing, I’ve found a way to see things, different opinions, different lifestyles, and different ways of doing things across eras and contexts. This is the main reason I read, and I’ll keep reading for the rest of my time on this planet.
With this text, I want to share my point of view on reading, and how, in my opinion, it influences us and why. Provided, of course, that you’re open enough to grasp its deeper meaning.
Why do we read?
There are three big questions connected to this:
- What are we looking for when we read?
- Confirmations or frictions?
- To feel less alone or more clear-headed?
The question we often ask ourselves is: "Why do we read?" A fair question, but the answer is complex and personal. I think everyone reads for different reasons, sometimes for purposes that are… a bit masochistic. Let me explain: I don’t think everyone who reads a lot of books really cares about the act of reading itself. Preparing your little corner of the house, or taking notes on the book you’re reading, can become almost a ritual—small things that romanticize the act. And that’s fine. But there are people who read mainly for this, without really getting input from the books. And in my view, that’s not a bad thing at all.
I think that every person, when reading, experiences both confirmations and frictions. Confirmations come after reflecting carefully on what you believed was real before reading—something non-physical, deeper. Frictions happen when the book is rough, uncomfortable, doesn’t flow well. Reading tires your eyes, makes you uncomfortable, not relaxed.
Feeling less alone or more clear-headed is a fair question. For a loner like me, reading is an extremely faithful companion, one you can talk to anytime during the day. You don’t have to wait for a reply to a message or a call—you can just engage with it and spend time together. Clarity is different: it’s subjective. If you’re reading something seeking an answer, probably, if you find it, you’ll feel relieved and clear-headed. If you don’t, you’ll fill with questions: “Did I get something wrong?” or “Did I miss a concept?” Often, you try reading again, forcing something that maybe should just be left as it is.
Reading to understand
Reading is often a tiring act, not always relaxing. We all have periods of inspiration where we can interact with books easily, and other times when just picking one from the shelf and flipping through it feels like an eternal effort. Often, we blame the book, saying something like, “It’s not a good book, it doesn’t flow.” I think that’s a sign: that book might just not be for you. Forced reading isn’t really enjoyable reading.
But we shouldn’t confuse our own authenticity with that of the book we’re reading. There are tons of books that have enlightened someone else, but leave us completely unmoved.
And here comes the discipline of reading: encountering books that don’t represent us, yet still challenge us. Last year, I read The Concept of Time by Martin Heidegger a really precise book about his theory of time. At times technical and scientific, it exhausted me to read. About eighty pages, and I remember spending thirty minutes on a single sentence, reflecting and repeating it because I just didn’t get it. Yet, I kept going until the end. Even today, this book leaves me with a lingering reflection on time. I consider it one of the most fascinating books I’ve ever read.
This shows, in my opinion, that the authenticity of a book is also measured by its power to challenge us. Reading is wonderful because sometimes you have to read against yourself: ideas that don’t fit you, styles you don’t share, or concepts that don’t interest you at all. I think these are the keys to opening doors you never thought you’d need to open.
Reading to be understood
This is one of the key points: reading to be understood is the purest form of help. Since forever, humans seek answers to everything, inside ourselves and around us. We doubt ourselves about anything. Books have answered many of our questions. Not because they write themselves, but because humans are machines producing concepts and reflections—something you can take from, or not.
This search in reading often shows in classic ways. Finding sentences that feel like yours: you know when you say, “Wow, it’s like I wrote this.” Or underlining a phrase or expression that feels like you, like saying, “Okay, someone said it, so I’m not crazy.”
I like seeing reading as an emotional mirror, not a window. It should open horizons to see ourselves, to question and challenge ourselves. If it just opens a window, we might see a horizon that doesn’t really belong to us. The mirror of ourselves will always pass through a horizon; we just need to know when to close that window to reflect on it properly.
The risk of the echo
Another thing I love about reading is that it lets you limit your horizon to a narrower view. We can all read certain genres, just to reinforce an aesthetic point or niche interest. In my RSS feed, you won’t find blogs about motorcycles, football, or other sports, simply because I’m not interested. I’d be forcing reading into topics that don’t connect to me.
But if someone writes about something that matters to me, then yes, reading that article can enrich me. For example, “How chess changes our view of the world” is an article that, if I saw it in my feed, I would read without hesitation.
We need to link this to what I said before: we need a wide horizon to reflect ourselves. Reading only what confirms our niche can narrow our view and diminish what surrounds us. Creating an echo of strong aesthetic or moral confirmations reduces the value of reading.
Writing as a response to reading
From my point of view, reading helps us understand something, precisely because it gives us the huge chance to confront different worlds and ways of thinking… as long as that thing is truly necessary to understand.
Writing, on the other hand, is about being understood. It’s a vicious circle: I write to be understood, you understand what I write.
Reading → understand
Writing → be understood
It really works well this way, simple and essential.
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