Reading in the dark

Some ideas for maintaining a reading life in dark trials, dried out exhaustion, and/or the fog of uncertainty as to what to read next.

Staircase in Capri, John Singer Sargent - because the reading life is ascending, taking one step at a time.

The Dreaded Slump

“What would you recommend reading when you’re in a reading slump?”

“What would you book would you recommend for someone who is going through [insert difficult to devastating trial here]?”

“What would you read if you found yourself in the midst of difficult circumstances?”

No reader looks forward to a reading slump. We want to get out of it as quickly as we can. These are questions from readers who have found themselves in The Dreaded Slump, caused by exhaustion or stress of life or who knows what. They are valid questions, especially for those of us who find reading to be a source of joy and perspective when everything is hunky-dory-peachy-keen and we couldn’t ask Providence for a better situation. When hard times come, when we are worn out, we want to stick closer to those things that are anchors in our lives and that consistently bring us joy. The trouble is that, while we can ask others for ideas to help us get through those “lost in a fog” reading seasons, we can’t expect what worked for them to automatically work for us. We can ask for recommendations as places to start, but only as places to start. We have to find for ourselves what our inner lives need.

To add to the frustration, it often happens that that what worked for us in one difficult season won’t necessarily work every time. During covid, when it seemed like the world might be ending, I read Les Miserables and a LOT of Neil Postman (like, his whole canon; I wolfed his books down). When we thought my husband was going to lose his job, it was, oddly (or maybe not), Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy and the very esoteric The Vision of God by Nicholas Cusa that were my literary sanctuaries. And a LOT of poetry. Oh, and fairy tales. During another difficult season, I couldn’t get enough of Michael Crichton. It wasn’t top shelf intellectual, but the solid story structure was exactly what I needed. I needed to see that order of Bad Guy goes buck wild, Bad Guy almost wins, the Plot gives “a twist and shake” (Northop Frye), and voila presto, order is restored, wrongs are righted, robot flies are annihilated and we can all (or most of us) go back to our lives, a little bit wiser and happily ever after. Or until the sequel.

“Fog everywhere.”

It isn’t always difficulties that set off that feelings of exhaustion and aimless literary wandering. I feel it every year about this time, as well as right before Christmas. Because I teach a couple of literature classes at our co-op, and because my own kids use AmblesideOnline (a very literature-based curriculum), by the time the Christmas and summer breaks roll around I am tired. I am read out. Most of my reading during the school year is related to what I am teaching, and when that structure is gone, I wander from book to book, wanting to read but unable to settle on anything. Typically, I can reset myself with a combination of something like Agatha Christie and Northrop Frye, but not always. This year is no different; as I write this, I am feeling very much the mental version of the second paragraph in Dickens’ Bleak House:

“Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelling pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.”

Fog in the eyes and throat, fog all around. Yep, sounds about right.

What to read in a reading slump is a question each reader has to wrestle with on their own, and the avid reader needs to know that it is ok and maybe even necessary sometimes to read nothing, at least for a little while. It might be that you just need a break. I’ve talked before about how a healthy reader intentionally includes books in her “Currently Reading” pile that are difficult, that function like heavier weights in resistance training. But a good workout regime is one that schedules days of rest. They are just as important to the fitness plan as the days of intense work. Sometimes active recovery is best, a light walk or an activity like kayaking. (Literarily speaking, this might be short stories or essays, something like that.) But somedays, we just need to loaf around and actually do nothing. Especially if we’ve experienced an injury or a set back. We can’t keep lifting 50 lb weights if we’ve pulled a muscle. Sometimes in the reading life, we need a period of loafing, of rest and recovery, before we start trying to get back to where we were.

Suggestions, or “Towards a Solution”

With all that in mind, here are some avenues I’ve used and that have helped me at different times to find a way to keep reading when it’s harder than usual. Or a way to get back into reading when I’ve had to take a break and binge-watch old vines on YouTube or The Office for the umpteenth time. These are the things I try when (finally) I can feel that my mind is hungry again for Something More. They aren’t mind-blowing revelations, but they might help. If you have any ideas, feel free to add them in the comments.

Float like a butterfly
Flit from book to book. If it doesn’t feel right, move on. Just the activity of looking for the next read can be a relief from anxieties or stresses. Enjoy being a literary butterfly.

To Plod or Not to Plod
Expanding on the first suggestion, there is nothing wrong with dropping that big book you started but find that now you have no interest in. In times of trials, you don’t need the added burden of feeling like you need to finish the Tolstoy tome you picked up. Set it aside. Let it rest. You can come back later. Of course, the opposite also could be helpful: you could plod through a little bit at a time and refuse to give up. It is a good feeling to conquer a book you thought you would never finish. I’ve often found that somewhere along the way, I came to love it and can’t wait to start it over again.

“And now for something completely different!”
Step outside your comfort zone. Try things you never would have thought to try. If you don’t read a lot of poetry, or biography, or non-fiction, or history, try it. Do you have a favorite animal? There is guaranteed to be a book about that. Science writing or nature writing can be a great stimulus in dry or foggy times. I once read a book about moss (totally random choice, just because I love moss and we have a lot of it in the PNW) that was enjoyable, though I found parts of it tedious - the author got a little mystical at points and I wasn’t there for mysticism. When she was talking about all her moss research and the nature of moss and the things about moss that she had discovered, I was enthralled. It kick-started my reading life after a period of aimlessness.

Have you heard of the Ray Bradbury reading challenge to writers? Try that. Or maybe try reading all the Pulitzer Prize winners, or all the Nobel Prize for literature speeches (I havr Solzhenitsyn's here serially on my Substack) or travel back in time and read the ancients. The newness of an unfamiliar work in an unfamiliar genre could be a healthy distraction if you are reading in a time of trial. It could give your reading life a gentle challenge to focus on, instead of the life stuff. If you are reading in a time of dryness or an aimless fog, something unfamiliar can stimulate your interest and motivate you to read again.

Bigger is better
In the spirit of the “float like a butterfly” suggestion, maybe this is the time to crack that copy of War and Peace and lose yourself in a whole other world. Gone with the Wind, Kirsten Lavrensdatter, Lord of the Rings, Les Miserables – the list of giant books is enormous, like their tomes. These might be the perfect time to enter a vivid world and let yourself to crawl into it. No doubt you will come out with a broader perspective. That was my experience with Bleak House. I started it on a whim, because nothing sounded good and I never had liked Dickins so why not try to read a huge book by an author I had never really liked (don’t ask me for the logic behind this, I’m still a little fuzzy on it) – and by the second paragraph of chapter one, I was hooked and totally smitten.

Hear! Hear!
Part of why I instantly loved Bleak House was that I started it as an audio book with an excellent narrator. Simon Vance narrated the first half of the book to me (before I finally bought a paper copy because I loved it and wanted to read it for myself), and I listened to it every chance I could. I did the same with Anna Karenina, read by Nadia May. She helped me with name pronunciations and keeping all the characters straight. Sometimes a good narrator can add a charm to an otherwise intimidating story. If you already have a favorite narrator, maybe check out other books they’ve read. It can be a really great way to maintain your reading life when you’re struggling to read, and they might be able to welcome you into a book you otherwise never would have read.

In this same vein, literary podcasts and interview can be a help to you. Hearing someone unfamiliar talk about books new to you but beloved by them can reinvigorate the literary curiosity that drives so many of us. The Literary Life Podcast has some great ones to choose from. Give it a google.

Devotional works
I know that for some people, trials are the exact wrong time to read devotional works or works of theology. It can feel like being preached at when you need consolation and comfort. But for others, it could be a help and something that give hope and structure to a chaotic situation. This is where flitting comes in again. Try it. Try several works. See how they feel on your literary tongue. It could be just the thing.

One-writer reader
Do you have a favorite author? Have you read all his works? Maybe that’s what you need – the soothing voice of a long-time friend telling you one good story after another.

Tell me your story
Biographies. The lives of other people are fascinating, even folks you think you might never care to know more about (Britney Spears, perhaps?) – reading their lives can be a way to reset your view of your own. It doesn’t have to be about a person. I came across a book called Notre Dame, Bography of a Cathedral that I am finding fascinating. Roger Capon’s Supper of the Lamb is almost a biography of a recipe, or maybe the story of how everything connects; a biography of everything.

Read about reading
It’s as simple as it sounds. This could be a collection of essays about a fellow book lover. 84 Charing Cross Road or Ex Libris or A Passion for Books or Summoned by Books – these are all books about reading and readers and their literary lives that have stimulated mine.

Say what?
Learn a language. This is a little off the literary topic, but it’s word/language related so I’m including it. Two years ago, I signed up for a one-month intro course to learning Anglo-Saxon, and I loved it. The translation exercises were surprisingly invigorating; I could feel my mind working muscles it hadn’t ever used before. And it unexpectedly stimulated my desire to read.

Memorization
Another thing that has worked for me in foggy, dark, or dry, tired seasons is choosing a long poem or passage to memorize. Two summers ago, I was preparing to teach a Tolkien class at my co-op and began to recognize signs that I was nearing burn-out because of all my research/preparation reading. So, I took a week off and instead focused on memorizing Tolkien’s longer poem, Mythopoeia. I was successful in committing it to memory, thanks largely to a week-long camping trip to the coast. I intentionally packed only one book (Tree and Leaf, which has some shorter works by Tolkien, including the poem) and I would take in on my early morning walks on the beach, reciting the passage I was working on out loud to the ocean. (To this day, certain passages and lines bring to mind cloudy, cool grey mornings beside the cool grey ocean.) Taking time to memorize revived my interest in his work. I don’t doubt this would work with any passage or poem in any work of quality. Scripture especially.

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Hopefully you find some help in these suggestions, or maybe at least they can be starting points for brainstorming your own solutions. Reading for some of us is not optional, and when we find ourselves in difficult circumstances, or when we are bone-dry and weary from life life-ing, it can make it worse to not have a literary place to land on and rest in. Don’t be afraid to step away from reading for a bit if you need a true break. If reading is a life-line for you, you will eventually make your way back to it, and a break might have prove to be exactly what you need to whet your appetite and resume your seat at the literary feast.

Where My Books Go
by William Butler Yeats

All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright.