How to Read a Book - New York Times

By RUTH FRANKLIN - New York Times: "READING requires remarkably little in the way of paraphernalia: a book, a source of light and maybe a pair of glasses. So what, other than our propensity for buying things we don't need, explains the success of the Levenger catalog? The founders of this purveyor of ''Tools for Serious Readers'' started off hawking halogen lamps out of their den 18 years ago and now sell fancy paper clips, elaborate note-taking systems and dapper leather goods — all designed ''for the productive enjoyment of reading, writing and working with ideas'' — via a 70-plus-page catalog and a ''flagship store'' in Delray Beach, Fla. There are no leaning towers of newsprint, dusty desktops or eyestraininducing fluorescent bulbs here: instead, a fully stocked cherry bookcase squats comfortably in a corner, a suede-bound journal (sold four to a box, each with a different-colored cover ''so you can keep your thoughts straight'') awaits inspiration, and fountain pens filled with jewel-tone ink beckon from their own ''pen easel.'' If all this seems a bit fussy to those content with ball points and legal pads, Levenger's happily Luddite fantasy of the reading life is irresistible. With that adorable little book light to guide my way, you can't help thinking, I just might be able to get through the complete Proust.


But just as reading requires no fancy gadgets, having those gadgets won't actually make you read, as Steve Leveen, Levenger's chief executive, admits in his new book, ''The Little Guide to Your Well-Read Life.'' His customers have snapped up his tote bags and bookmarks, but when it came to what they really needed — more time to read — he was unable to help. And so Leveen resolved to change that. As it happens, he doesn't do much reading himself, often preferring the efficiency of audio books. So he selected ''serious readers'' from various walks of life and peppered them with questions: What books do they read, and how? How do they choose among the millions of volumes out there? Have they taken speed-reading courses? He also looked into a few of the classics about reading, such as Clifton Fadiman's ''Lifetime Reading Plan'' and Mortimer Adler's ''How to Read a Book,'' and threw in some techniques culled from book clubs and his own experience listening to audio books. The result, distilled into easy-to-digest prose in a book Leveen promises will take only three hours to read, is a practical handbook for ''getting more books in your life and more life from your books.''


I, too, never seem to have enough time to read, so I opened Leveen's book with high hopes. But anyone who cracks a spine often enough to wish for one of his windowpane bookstands (which ''hold a fat, heavy book without flinching -- and look graceful doing it'') will find that his suggestions range from the obvious to the misguided. The average person, Leveen writes, takes an ad hoc approach to reading, choosing whatever happens to strike his or her fancy. But ''serious readers'' make their decisions systematically, thinking through their choices before they start so as to increase their chances of finding good books. Rather than working from a reading list, he suggests creating your own ''list of candidates,'' including books by writers you already like as well as those you have always intended to read. After you've made your list, it's time to buy the books: having them around will make it more likely you'll actually read them. Starting a book, however, puts you under no obligation to finish it. Leveen writes with relief of his own decision to give up on ''Crime and Punishment'' after it failed to engage him well after his standard 50-page trial (''I found it not enough crime and too much punishment'').

Forget book reviews, Leveen advises, since they represent only one person's opinion. If there's a subject you want to know more about -- orchids, say, or Beaujolais -- he suggests seeking recommendations from librarians, experts in the field and others with an interest in the same topic: if the same books are mentioned again and again, you can be sure they are the ''best books'' on the subject. He gives some examples from his own library, which at the moment includes Viktor Frankl's ''Man's Search for Meaning,'' owing to its cameo in ''The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People''; short stories by Raymond Carver, ''because I heard that he wrote them as well as Hemingway''; and Plutarch's ''Lives,'' which, as Louis L'Amour wrote in his memoir, is second in popularity among ''great men'' only to the Bible.

Alas, the humor of buying a copy of Plutarch based on Louis L'Amour's recommendation is lost on Leveen, who takes the idea of the ''well-read life'' as seriously as he takes his fountain pens. He is fond of Flaubert's dictum that we ''read in order to live,'' but his book reveals a fundamental confusion of reading and experience -- a confusion that, one suspects, is a direct result of his consumerist approach to books.

In fact, most of us don't look for the ''best'' books the same way we would scout out the ''best'' digital camera. Whether we're reading a novel, a biography or for that matter a book about orchids, we seek an elusive combination of pleasure, utility and intellectual stimulation, something to pique our curiosity and engage our minds. But Leveen views books as an end in themselves, treating them primarily as objects to be fetishized. This often surfaces in unintentionally hilarious ways. Describing himself as ''conflicted'' on the subject of book clubs, he resolves to learn more about them by reading ''a handful of guides on the subject'' and interviewing reading group members and readers. (Why not simply join one?) Or, writing rapturously of reading Pat Conroy's ''Prince of Tides'' in a South Carolina beach house, he proclaims, ''This is life energized by books.'' We've probably all fantasized about reading our favorite writers in their own settings: Emily Brontë as we wander the moors, for instance. But what, other than a frisson of recognition, is really to be gained from such an exercise? This is life organized around books, not energized by them.

AT the same time, Leveen's focus on reinventing the paper clip has left him with little understanding of how people actually make use of knowledge in their daily lives. He is amazed that such ''great achievers'' as John Adams and Nelson Mandela ''manage to become impassioned readers and lead such remarkably active lives,'' adding that ''many widely read people are not bookish stereotypes but vigorous actors on the stage of life.'' Of course, there is no contradiction here; if ''active'' means not only successful in one's profession but also thoughtful and engaged with the world (including the world of ideas), then reading is essential to the active life. Even George W. Bush periodically tries to counter his reputation as an intellectual lightweight by letting slip which best seller or foreign-policy tome adorns his nightstand.

Given the entrepreneurial tendencies of both the book and its author, it is hardly surprising to find the opening spread of a recent Levenger's catalog devoted to the ''Little Guide'' itself, along with a line of products it has spawned, including a ''Bookography'' journal to help ''create your autobiography as a reader.'' (Leveen recommends this in order to avoid accidentally buying the same book twice.) This would appear to be the abridged version: only a few lines are offered for ''Reading Notes,'' with much of the rest devoted to fill-in-the-blanks like ''I'll recommend this book to. . . .'' or ''This book led me to these experiences or interests. . . .'' Like Levenger's other offerings, these products were dreamed up by someone whose fantasy of the reading life is simply that -- a fantasy. I'll take my Proust straight up -- no fancy paper clips, please.

Ruth Franklin is a senior editor at The New Republic."