I often begin my thoughts on this sort of book--unnecessary, but enjoyable and well-crafted--with a comment to the effect that I should read more of them, by which I mean that the balance of duty to pleasure in my reading is askew. Upon setting down to record my thoughts now, however, the question arises, "Why?" Why "should" I read more of this? To improve my reading level? That seems ludicrous. To be familiar with and conversant about the works of an obscure writer? Also a long shot. If the reason were connected to my own enjoyment, then there would be no reason to "should" about it; it would just happen.
And yet the notion persists that I am not a real reader because I am not constantly reading. The trap of comparison and expectation is as prevalent here as in all areas of my life, and deserves some scrutiny. Do I have something to prove? Perhaps to myself, but I have always been impervious to the idea of satisfaction with myself. The light of scrutiny reveals that I have no real reason, in fact, to read more for pleasure. My pleasure comes from learning, not from reading. I have other preferred forms of escapism to fill that niche.
There is one thing that broad reading is better at than deep reading, however. The creative process is a cycle of input and output, and moves in phases. I input mostly deep, old, complex things into my cognitive matrix, and correspondingly my output has a deep, old, complex tone that borders on the obscure. I aspire, however, to write things that people might actually want to read as well--a novel perhaps--and find myself stymied and blocked when I attempt to write such things. Clearly, if I wish to be able to write unnecessary but enjoyable and well-crafted things, which I don't currently seem to be, I need to input more of it. That is "should" enough, I suppose.
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