How to Read a Book: The Classic Guide to Intelligent Reading (40 page)

Typically, there is no single, authoritative work on any of these subjects, and we must therefore read several. One sign of this is that social science authors themselves, in order to keep up with the times, must constantly bring out new, revised editions of their works; and new works supersede older ones and rapidly render them obsolete.

To some extent, a similar situation obtains in philosophy, as we have already observed. Fully to understand a philosopher, you should make some attempt to read the philosophers your author himself has read, the philosophers who have influenced him. To some extent it is also true in history, where we suggested that, if you want to discover the truth of the past, you had better read several books about it rather than one.

But in those cases the likelihood that you would find one major, authoritative work was much greater. In social science that is not so common, and so the necessity of reading several works rather than one is much more urgent.

The rules of analytical reading are not in themselves applicable to the reading of several works on the same subject. They apply to each of the works that is read, of course, and if you want to read any of them well you have to observe them. But new rules of reading are required as we pass from the third level of reading (analytical reading), to the fourth (syntopical reading) . We are now prepared to tackle that fourth level, having come to see, because of this characteristic of social science, the need for it.

Pointing this out makes it clear why we relegated the discussion of the social sciences to the last chapter in Part Three.

It should now be clear why we organized the discussion in the way we did. We began with the reading of practical books, which are different from all others because of the special obligation to act that the reader is under if he agrees with and accepts what he is reading. We then treated fiction and poetry, which pose special problems that are unlike those of expository books. Finally, we dealt with three types of theoretical, expository writing-science and mathematics, philosophy, and social science. Social science came last because of the need to read it syntopically. Thus the present chapter serves as both the end of Part Three and an introduction to Part Four.

PART FOUR: The Ultimate Goals of Reading

20.THE FOURTH LEVEL OF READING : SYNTOPICAL READING

So far we have not said anything specific about how to read two or more books on the same subject. We have tried to suggest that when certain subjects are discussed, more than one book is relevant, and we have also from time to time mentioned, in a very informal way, certain related books and authors in various fields. Knowing that more than one book is relevant to a particular question is the first requirement in any project of syntopical reading. Knowing which books should be read, in a general way, is the second requirement. The second requirement is a great deal harder to satisfy than the first.

The difficulty becomes evident as soon as we examine the phrase "two or more books on the same subject." What do we mean by "same subject"? Perhaps this is clear enough when the subject is a single historical period or event, but in hardly any other sphere is there much clarity to be found. Gone With the Wind and War and Peace are both novels about a great war-but there, for the most part, the resemblance stops. Stendhal's The Charterhouse of Parma is "about" the same conflict that is, the Napoleonic Wars-that Tolstoy's novel is "about."

But of course neither is about the war, or indeed about war in general, as such. War provides the context or background of both stories-as it does for much of human life-but it is the stories on which the authors rivet our attention. We may learn something about the war-in fact, Tolstoy once said that he had learned much of what he knew about battles from Stendhal's account of the Battle of Waterloo-but we do not go to these novels or any others if our primary intention is to study war.

You could have anticipated that this situation would obtain in the case of fiction. It is inherent in the fact that the novelist does not communicate in the same way that an expository writer does. But the situation obtains in the case of expository works, as well.

Suppose, for example, that you are interested in reading about the idea of love. Since the literature of love is vast, you would have relatively little difficulty in creating a bibliography of books to read. Suppose that you have done that, by asking advisors, by searching through the card catalogue of a good library, and by examining the bibliography in a good scholarly treatise on the subject. And suppose in addition that you have confined yourself to expository works, despite the undoubted interest of novelists and poets in the subject. (We will explain why it would be advisable to do this later.) You now begin to examine the books in your bibliography. What do you find?

Even a cursory perusal reveals a very great range of reference. There is hardly a single human action that has not been called-in one way or another-an act of love. Nor is the range confined to the human sphere. If you proceed far enough in your reading, you will find that love has been attributed to almost everything in the universe; that is, everything that exists has been said by someone either to love or to be loved-or both.

Stones are said to love the center of the earth. The upward motion of fire is called a function of its love. The attraction of iron filings to a magnet is described as an effect of love. Tracts have been written on the love life of amoebae, paramecia, snails, and ants, to say nothing of most of the so-called higher animals, who are said to love their masters as well as one another. When we come to human beings, we discover that authors speak and write of their love for men, women, a woman, a man, children, themselves, mankind, money, art, domesticity, principles, a cause, an occupation or profession, adventure, security, ideas, a country life, loving itself, a beefsteak, or wine. In certain learned treatises, the motions of the heavenly bodies are said to be inspired by love; in others, angels and devils are differentiated by the quality of their love. And of course God is said to be Love.

Confronted with this enormous range of reference, how are we to state what the subject is that we are investigating?

Can we even be sure that there is a single subject? When one person says "I love cheese," and another says "I love football,"

and a third says "I love mankind," are they all three using the word in any sense that is common? After all, one eats cheese but not football or mankind, one plays football but not cheese or mankind, and whatever "I love mankind" means, that meaning does not seem to be applicable to cheese or football. And yet all three do use the same word. Is there in fact some deep reason for that, some reason that is not immediately apparent on the surface? Difficult as that question is, can we say that we have identified the "same subject" until we have answered it?

Faced with this chaotic situation, you may decide to limit the enquiry to human love-to love between human beings, of the same sex or different sexes, of the same age or different ages, and so forth. That would rule out the three statements we have just discussed. But you would still find, even if you read only a small portion of the available books about the subject, a very great range of reference. You would find, for instance, that love is said by some writers to consist wholly in acquisitive desire, usually sexual desire; that is, love is merely a name for the attraction that almost all animals feel toward members of the opposite sex. But you would also find other authors who maintain that love, properly speaking, contains no acquisitive desire whatever, and consists in pure benevolence. Do acquisitive desire and benevolence have anything in common, considering that acquisitive desire always implies wanting some good for oneself, while benevolence implies wanting a good for someone else?

At least acquisitive desire and benevolence share· a common note of tendency, of desire in some very abstract sense of the term. But your investigation of the literature of the subject would soon uncover writers who conceive of the essence of love as being cognitive rather than appetitive. Love, these writers maintain, is an intellectual act, not an emotional one. In other words, knowing that another person is admirable always preceeds desiring him or her, in either of the two senses of desire.

Such authors do not deny that desire enters into the picture, but they do deny that desire should be called love.

Let us suppose-in fact, we think it can be done-that you are able to identify some common meaning in these various conceptions of human love. Even then not all of your problems are solved. Consider the ways in which love manifests itself between and among human beings. Is the love that a man and woman have for each other the same when they are courting as when they are married, the same when they are in their twenties as when they are in their seventies? Is the love that a woman has for her husband the same as that she has for her children? Does a mother's love for her children change as they grow up? Is the love of a brother for his sister the same as his love for his father? Does a child's love for its parents change as he or she grows? Is the love that a man has for a woman, either his wife or some other, the same as the friendship he feels for another man, and does it make a difference what relationship he has with the man-such as one with whom he goes bowling, one with whom he works, and one whose intellectual company he enjoys? Does the fact that "love" and "friendship" are different words mean that the emotions they name (if that is in fact what they name) differ? Can two men of different ages be friends? Can they be friends if they are markedly different in some other respect, such as possession of wealth or degree of intelligence? Can women be friends at all? Can brothers and sisters be friends, or brother and brother, or sister and sister? Can you retain a friendship with someone you either borrow money from or lend it to? It not, why not? Can a boy love his teacher? Does it make a difference whether the teacher is male or female? If humanoid robots existed, could human beings love them? If we discovered intelligent beings on Mars or some other planet, could we love them? Can we love someone we have never met, like a movie star or the President? If we feel that we hate someone, is that really an expression of love?

These are just a few of the questions that would be raised by your reading of even a part of the standard expository literature of love. There are many other questions that could be asked. However, we think we have made the point. A curious paradox is involved in any project of syntopical reading. Although this level of reading is defined as the reading of two or more books on the same subject, which implies that the identification of the subject matter occurs before the reading begins, it is in a sense true that the identification of the subject matter must follow the reading, not precede it. In the case of love, you might have to read a dozen or a hundred works before you could decide what you were reading about. And when you had done that, you might have to conclude that half of the works you had read were not on the subject at all.

The Role of Inspection in Syntopical Reading

We have stated more than once that the levels of reading are cumulative, that a higher level includes all of those that precede or lie below it. It is now time to explain what that means in the case of syntopical reading.

You will recall that in explaining the relationship between inspectional reading and analytical reading, we pointed out that the two steps in inspectional reading-first, skimming; and second, superficial reading-anticipated the first two steps in analytical reading Skimming helps to prepare you for the first step of analytical reading, in the course of which you identify the subject matter of whatever you are reading, state what kind of book it is, and outline its structure. Superficial reading, while it is also helpful in that first step of analytical reading, is primarily a preparation for the second step, when you are called upon to interpret a book's contents by coming to terms with the author, stating his propositions, and following his arguments.

In a somewhat analogous fashion, both inspectional and analytical reading can be considered as anticipations or preparations for syntopical reading. It is here, in fact, that inspectional reading comes into its own as a major tool or instrument for the reader.

Let us suppose once more that you have a bibliography of a hundred or so titles, all of which appear to be on the subject of love. If you read every one of them analytically, you would not only end up with a fairly clear idea of the subject that you were investigating-the "same subject" of the syntopical reading project-but you would also know which, if any, of the books you had read were not on that subject and thus irrelevant to your needs. But to read a hundred books analytically might well take you ten years. If you were able to devote full time to the project, it would still take many months. Some short cut is obviously necessary, in the face of the paradox we have mentioned concerning syntopical reading.

That short cut is provided by your skill in inspectional reading. The first thing to do when you have amassed your bibliography is to inspect all of the books on your list. You should not read any of them analytically before inspecting all

of them. Inspectional reading will not acquaint you with all of the intricacies of the subject matter, or with all of the insights that your authors can provide, but it will perform two essential functions. First, it will give you a clear enough idea of your subject so that your subsequent analytical reading of some of the books on the list is productive. And second, it will allow you to cut down your bibliography to a more manageable size.

We can hardly think of any advice that would be more useful for students, especially graduate and research students, than this, if they would only heed it. In our experience, a certain number of students at those advanced levels of schooling have some capability of reading actively and analytically.

There may not be enough of them, and they may be far from perfect readers, but they at least know how to get at the meat of a book, to make reasonably intelligible statements about it, and to fit it into a plot or plan of their subject matter. But their efforts are enormously wasteful because they do not understand how to read some books faster than others. They spend the same amount of time and effort on every book or article they read. As a result, they do not read those books that deserve a really good reading as well as they deserve, and they waste time on works that deserve less attention.