Better Because of Books?

I recently read an article that dives into the murky question:  does literature help us understand others?  Have more empathy?  The article begins hopefully with a quote from Joyce Carol Oates: “Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin.”

This is a challenging question with important consequences.  What do we demand from higher education?  Is reading being pushed out of our visual, digital world?

The idea that literature orients readers to the thoughts and feelings of others is something  we’ve lived with for a very long time.   Psychologists are now trying to test it in the lab. I wasn’t totally surprised that they fall back on the “chicken or egg” position:

“A lifetime of reading might make people better at imagining other people’s thoughts and emotions, or those who are more in tune with other people’s states of minds might be drawn to reading fiction in the first place. Or, a completely unrelated variable might explain the correlation.”

My friends Carole and Camille, both lifelong readers, gave me a total thumbs up.  “Yes, and studies prove it.”  And, “yes, absolutely!”  

Stuart is thoughtful: “I can have empathy even with characters that I don't like because I can sense the complexity of their motivations.    I do think that it carries over to everyday life, though in subtle, subconscious ways.”  

I liked Gerry’s response: “It depends on who is doing the reading.” With humility, he relies on himself for the empathy.

What do you think?

I agree with all of my friends.  As for the tests, I don’t think that everything can be measured.  I’m content with conjecture or hope.

Mr. Music

The one thing you learned about my friend early on is that he loved classical music.  The walls in his living room were covered by hundreds of CDs.  He knew what the Chicago Symphony Orchestra was playing and was in the audience regularly.  He could tell you about the members of the orchestra, past and present. He had even interviewed some of the great conductors.

Several months ago at lunch my friend revealed that a doctor had made a medical mistake that had rendered him “hard of hearing.”  When we met recently he filled me in on his “hard of hearing” life. Yes, he had hearing aids.  And yes, he was still seeking treatment.

What he said next caught me by surprise. “I was depressed for awhile because I was having so much trouble listening to my music.  I couldn’t get it right. Meditation helped with my depression but not enough.  Then one day I decided to give it up.  To put music aside completely.   I discovered that I am still complete. I’m going on with my life.”

My friend was matter of fact as he told me his story.  I was excited.  Thrilled even.  No victimhood.  No demand to be celebrated as a hero.

Life promises us nothing.  It’s up to each one of us to fill in the blanks.  Thanks for the reminder, my friend.

Kindness

When the systems we have in place to obtain "justice" fail us, eruptions are bound to occur.  Eventually, people are driven to take it upon themselves to restore some balance.  Some gather together to march and engage in public protest. Others act individually. Their tools of last resort are shame, ridicule or refusal to participate.

Athletes refuse to go to the White House to celebrate their excellence.
Musicians refuse to allow their music to be played.
When people who are "getting away with it" appear in public, they are booed.

In the face of failure,  we at least demand that the pardoned or the escaped retreat to their private privilege.

For this, are we now "unkind"?

Overwhelmed

I just finished reading the article in the New Yorker about Esalen and tech.  The inventors and CEO's are pondering "What have we wrought?" They are attending workshops (called playshops), meditating, and engaging in earnest conversation. They realize they've been messing with our brains.

It reminds me of when Al Gore travelled the world sounding the alarm about global warming and how we were messing with the planet.  It was punctuated by Melissa Etheridge's stirring song.  Seems like a long time ago doesn't it?  And, maybe it's too late.

 When is being smart too dangerous?  Could we even have stopped ourselves in mid-stride?
Again, the essential questions.

Hot Seat

Memo to John McEnroe:  If you want to have one of your tantrums today, it would be justified.  He was on his tour of ESPN talk shows promoting the U.S. Open Tennis Tournament opening today. I first saw the ex-badboy and now great commentator with Mike Greenberg.  Mike is lonely at the network in his love of tennis, but has enough clout to be able to mention the game from time to time.  John got about two minutes to hope Serena wins another major, gush over the elderly big three, and lament that the young men are lacking in either talent or heart to break through.

By the time he got to the First Take table with Stephen A. and his disciples, you could tell he was a little ticked at how anxious they were to dismiss him.  Who cares about tennis when there is so much more to say about Andrew Luck!  No matter that it's been non-stop Luck since Friday.

I'm proud that John gave them a little stare when they actually told him he'd have to give up his seat.  There's a football player waiting!

I love the Open.  If we get one match close to as brilliant as the one we got from Federer and Djokovic at Wimbledon, I will once again be grateful for being here during the all time glory days of men's tennis.

McMean

"There's nothing worse than a bad boss,"  I cried.  I was in the drive-thru (yes, I've succumbed to their spelling) at my local McDonald's.  One of the pleasures of stopping at the window to pay is "oh-ing and ah-ing" over the marvelous nails on the girls.

Colors I never saw before.  Sparkles.  Once, red, white and blue on July 4th.

So I was startled and disappointed today when my favorite nail model handed me my change with short, colorless stubs (like mine.)  "What happened?"  "The new boss says no nails, no polish or we get fined."

Okay, maybe the boss was thinking about germs under the long talons.  More likely, she was just jealous or mean.

Another tiny light goes dark.

Jury Duty

Jean Fritz was a wife and mother living in Des Plaines.  When she showed up for jury duty in 1969 she had no idea of her upcoming attachment to history.   How could anyone?  Jean ended up on the sequestered jury that produced the verdict for the "Conspiracy Seven." And, because of her determination and bravery, she played a big role in the fate of the accused.

Eight jurors wanted blood.  They bought everything that Hoover, Mitchell and Nixon were selling.  Four jurors saw through what the government was doing.  Both sides held firm.  When Judge Hoffman refused to let the jury see transcripts, and when he threatened to keep them sequestered indefinitely, the four decided they had to agree to a compromise:  innocent of conspiracy but convicted of a lesser charge.

Eventually, Jean and one of the other jurors agreed to an interview which revealed the "inside story" to the public.  The jurors were called back to a special hearing.  While the others retreated to faulty memory, Jean and one other juror told the real story.  The criminal charges were overturned.

I heard this compelling story (in harrowing detail) on the Ben Joravsky podcast for Tuesday, August 6.  Jean's daughter, Marjorie Fritz-Birch runs the Edgewater Historical Society and she is displaying her mother's papers at an exhibit commemorating the 50th anniversary of the trial.