“The Paper Chase” or “Feeling Empathetic for Birkerts”

             “Why words on a page, why a desire to write fiction?” Birkerts asks in the opening of the second chapter (p.34).  “Why not?” I asked myself, almost immediately.  After a rather harsh start to “The Gutenberg Elegies,” Birkerts manages to tone things down to a level at which other readers can relate (and sympathize).  At the same time, though, his tone keeps a bite to it.  It is this bite, this annoying questioning and second-guessing, that bothers me.  Birkerts does not hesitate to delve into his poor father-son relationship right at the start of the chapter, which he explains ruined the experience of reading for him; not only did he have to hide the act of reading, he also had to pretend that such things as books did not exist.  Yet, he questions whether or not his father was the sole enemy of his reading; perhaps it was his Latvian family, he thinks.  Or perhaps it was his bad luck with the numerous book store jobs that he could not manage to keep?  Or maybe, just maybe, it was the several relationships that turned sour.  Who knows?  Clearly not Birkerts, or he would have stopped second-guessing his past long ago.

            Nevertheless, once I got past the incessant questioning, it was easier to sympathize with Birkerts.  When he talks about the feeling of reading and the effects it has on him, I found it difficult to disagree.  After all, I am just as much of a reader.  The most notable quote/description that stuck out to me was,

“It is easy enough in retrospect to see a book as a screen, a shield, an escape, but at the same time there was just the magic – the startling and renewable discovery that a page covered with black markings could, with a slight mental exertion, be converted into an environment, an inward depth populated with characters and animated by diverse excitements.  A world inside the world, secret and concealable” (p.35)  

What reader has not experienced something similar?  What reader has not wanted to escape from reality, if only for a few hours?  My guess is none.  Otherwise, what would be the point of reading?  What would it have to offer us?  Reading, in the way that Birkerts describes it (including its effects and purpose), seems to me like a series of relationships between Reader and Reader, Reader and Writer, and Writer and Writer.  Readers want to experience that “churning anxiety” and “almost intolerable sensation” that only reading can provide; because of that want (and sometimes need), Readers offer other Readers books to satiate the feeling.  Before that relationship can be established, though, the Writer must provide the Reader with the first experience that leads the Reader to continue the chain; once the chain links the Reader to other Readers, the Writer bands with other Writers to ensure that the chain continues and repeats the process.  Likewise, Birkerts wants to continue the chain, although not through links provided by technology.  He would rather do it the old-fashioned way by word of mouth or self discovery.  I can respect that.

            Interestingly enough, Birkerts then later states, “Doing is prized over being or thinking” (p.38).  Shortly thereafter he admits to having “a great desire not just to be thought of as intelligent and well-read, but to really be those things” (p.46).  Both are highly contradictive of the other.  The contradiction could just be the result of poor wording on Birkerts’ behalf; “be” could easily translate to do.  Still, that is not what is said, and I cannot help but wonder which statement he believes applies to him (and which applies to the rest of us).  Why is ‘doing’ not as/more suitable as/than ‘being’?  Don’t you need to ‘be’ before you can ‘do’?  It is here that Birkerts left me more than a little confused.  I can only hope that he will explain himself further in the upcoming readings.