The Trouble with Great Books

“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.” ― Groucho Marx

We read to remind ourselves we're not alone. When we come across the right passage while flipping through the pages of a book there's a moment, however fleeting, that someone somewhere understands us better than we know ourselves. 

When we highlight, doggy-ear, or write about a feeling we were convinced no one else ever felt we're given a reprieve from our isolation.

But books can also inhibit us from sharing the insights we know to be true. We fear the likes of Seneca, Montaigne, and Jung have a monopoly on wisdom and as a result hesitate to share our own. 

The key is recognize these people, wise as they may have been, were also just PEOPLE. We musn't allow books, however great, to set boundaries on our curiosity or ability to think for ourselves. 

As Socrates said, "I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing." 

Such a proclamation should offer both solace and at the same time be an invitation to share OUR deepest selves.  

The true artistry of conversation as the late Irish poet John O'Donohue observed is when you overhear yourself say something you didn't know you knew.

But we must first give ourselves the opportunity to do so by loving books, while not allowing them to place borders on our minds.