My early days of reading were a special experience for me. I used to engage with the book freely and intimately, eagerly extracting each line from the pages to think over and feel. Now, I realize how much courage it requires. Childhood is a brave phase, where you can give yourself completely to something without hesitations.
Reading as an adult became different. You are deeply aware of your development and wish to select and measure what you expose yourself to. The idea of being influenced by what you read stays in your mind. It is both intriguing and concerning. You judge books before reading them to gauge if it's worth your time, which is sad. Even while reading there is a barrier separating your feelings from the book - like it's an outsider who might harbor ill intentions. Yet, without opening your heart and mind to it, you cannot understand a book.
Choosing literature for my higher studies also sparked changes in my reading. I seemed to get even more reserved towards unfamiliar titles and authors. The syllabus began to dictate my preferences. It came to a state where I could neither enjoy the books prescribed in my course nor read anything outside it. I even worried if my once pleasurable hobby was becoming work for me. This was an issue that bothered me throughout my UG days.
I am writing this post soon after finishing a novel. Hence the title. It was the 'Bell Jar' by Sylvia Plath. I was doubtful about reading it. I was unsure if I'd be able to let myself lose in the book to enjoy it.
Now that I think about it, my apprehensions seem funny. I knew beforehand that the book dealt with topics like depression and suicide. I thought I'd be doomed if it turned out too relatable. I can't help but laugh at myself now. I even considered the possibility that the negative thought pattern in the book might chink my positive thinking streak! I'm glad I brushed off all these and took my chance with the novel. And for your information, no. I didn't completely identify with the protagonist. Only here and there.
Now that I'm doing my master's degree, I understand my issue better. It's not that I'm losing my bond with books, it's just undergoing a slight transformation, now that I am a literature student. Quite ironically, in an attempt to make my reading objective and deep, I detached myself from it.
I realize now that objectivity is not about avoiding subjectivity. How can you assert that personal feelings are not involved in your judgment if you don't know what they are in the first place? So, I feel that a subjective reading of a book is necessary for you to recognize your personal biases and feelings and most importantly, to enjoy it. The rest comes easily.
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