On reading aloud, and being read to

I finished reading Anne Fadiman’s Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader yesterday. (Lovely little book for bibliophiles.)

One of the essays contained therein describes the joys of reading aloud to someone, or having someone read to you. She talks about reading romantic poetry with a boyfriend in college, and decades later she and her husband, George, are taking turns working through Homer’s Odyssey. She closes with this:

I was struck by this essay in particular, because one of the fondest memories from my unfortunately defunct marriage was the several days I spent reading a novel aloud to my wife following major surgery to her spine. She was completely incapacitated, confined to bed, and I wanted to help her pass the time, so I chose a book I knew she hadn’t read but that she’d enjoy, and offered to read it to her. My only condition: that I not tell her anything about it before I began. She chafed a bit, but she was stuck in bed, so what was she going to do? :wink:

The book was Stephen King’s Eyes of the Dragon, which is one of my favorites of his. And I’m not a King fan at all; I disagree with his basic approach to the genre, and I think he seriously jumped the shark a number of years ago. But Eyes of the Dragon is a departure for him, a compelling fairy tale, and I knew my wife would enjoy it. But she feels even more negatively about King than I do, so I knew I had to get her involved in the story before revealing the author. It was a risk, but I took it.

She loved the story, and thanked me for my persistence. :slight_smile:

Now I’m preparing for a public reading this coming Friday and Saturday. I did the same thing last year: a small group of performers (five that time, four this time) reading, as a Hallowe’en event, the work of Edgar Allan Poe. The audience? A theater-savvy crowd in a small independent restaurant, with the stories coming between courses. Last year I read “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “Annabel Lee,” plus Fortunato’s dialogue in “The Cask of Amontillado.” This year I’m reading “The Conqueror Worm” and “Berenice,” and the father and other dialogue in “Lionizing.”

I’d invite interested folks to join us, but reservations are full up, with a waiting list. It’s a remarkably popular event; last year we did just one night for a packed house, and this year we’re doing two nights to meet the demand. And that’s the thing: Normally I hate dinner-theater type stuff, but last year was a lot of fun; the audience is really, really into it, listening quietly, responding appreciatively. I’m looking forward to doing it again.

Do you enjoy reading aloud, or being read to, like this? Do you make time for it? Not just with your kids, or other people’s children, but with your significant other, or anyone at all. Or even alone: when I read Shakespeare, I read out loud, usually on my feet, moving around my living room, worrying not at all whether I would look like a crazy person to an invisible observer. I mean, it’s just so much better that way.

It may seem like a luxury in this frantic age, but it’s so simple, and so pleasurable, that there’s no reason not to do it. If you’ve never tried it, I recommend it heartily. That hour when you’re flipping channels killing time between shows? Try reading out loud instead.

Fadiman again, regarding The Odyssey:

Who’s with me?

I enjoy reading to my wife, though we don’t do it as often as we should. And I expect I’ll enjoy reading to my daughter, when she’s old enough to consider looking at pictures while I’m doing it. But I can’t stand being read to. I don’t like people reading to me, and I don’t like books on tape.

I’ve long thought about why this might be true, and I think it’s this: when it comes to prose, I don’t like not being in control of the pacing. Unless the person reading to me is really, really good, I’m soon annoyed that they’re going soooo much slower than I could if I were reading to myself.

The Shakespeare Exception: I can enjoy work that was written to be read out loud if it’s performed by someone really talented. But I can’t think of a specific example off the top of my head. And I very much enjoy radio pieces – This American Life is a high point of my week.

My wife sometimes reads things to me, and I pretty much grit my teeth and appreciate it as best I can, because I do appreciate the thought behind it. But I’d rather read an entire Harry Potter novel to her (as I’ve done with all 6 so far) than have her read me one chapter.

I’m definitely with you.

One day when I was in college and I was feeling sick, my then boyfriend snuggled in bed with me and read to me. I believe he was reading one of the Vampire Chronicles from Anne Rice. The story didn’t matter. It was such a soothing and intimate act. Without really acknowledging it, I added one more condition to my perfect man list: he should read to me.

Fast forward ten years: I met a man online who seemed perfect. He’s funny, smart, shares my values, and expands my horizons. Then, one night, this perfect man pulled out a book of short stories and read to me. My heart melted.

We’re getting married in May. I expect to share a lifetime of reading aloud.

See, now when I first began to read this thread, I thought - NO I hate being read to. I am a very visual learner and can’t stick to the story if someone is reading to me. I do think though, that after reading this- is is not about understanding the story, but more so the intimacy of the act.

I have (as I’ve mentioned in other threads) read a lot of books aloud. We’re currently reading The Wind In the Willows.

We both read aloud very well. I don’t like it if the reader isn’t good at phrasing and expression, but we’re both good at it, and it is a surprisingly intimate feeling. Our best friends read to each other, too- I think it was one of the prerequisites for marriage.

I love reading and reciting aloud. There’s something about the feeling of the sound that makes it so much richer than reading silently.

I enjoy reading aloud, absolutely. A former boyfriend and I loved roadtrips with him driving and me reading, way better than the radio or the same CDs over and over.

I am way too ADHD to enjoy being read to, though. Mentally I’m impatient to find out what’s happening next faster than they can read it, indexing all the places where the phrasing was off or a mispronunciation distracts me from the story, just altogether too easily distracted.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

So…you gonna do it straight?

(The solitude is scenic. The worm is eating mimes. It has fangs. This might be something I would pay to hear.)

Normally I’d say I hate being read to. But my boyfriend has such a wonderful sexy voice that I think I just might like it if he picked up a book and read to me.

Unfortunmately, it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he’d do. No matter, he talks to me plenty (with the long distance relationship, it’s all we’ve got for now), and I enjoy that a whole lot.

Mmmm, hope he calls me soon. I’ll ask him to read me the news. :slight_smile:

It depends. Some people are excellent. My mother, for example, read to us in a clear flowing voice, without overdramatization. Others, like my dear husband, are painful to hear, even for a short item like a newspaper article, as they stumble awkwardly and mispronounce words.

I used to listen to audio books during a long daily commute. Beowulf was wonderful, read by its most recent translator. Ditto for Canterbury Tales.

Decades ago, when I was and English teacher in a public high school, one of our units was on the short story. Surprisingly, there was nothing by O. Henry in the textbook. The class was composed of students (we are using that term loosely here) who would never on their own have gone out and acquired a book, either, especially since many were economically disadvantaged. So I read the famous Gift of the Magi to them. They were absolutely entranced. There was not a peep out of them the whole time. I wished there had been more time for such activity.

One of my earliest memories (maybe my earliest memory) is of being read to. My mom would read to my sister and me every night, and when we were probably six or seven, we were “graduated” to adult books. To this day, I can’t read Watership Down without hearing my mother’s voice.

Exactly. When reading, I have a bad habit of skipping ahead. I feel guilty doing it, because my dad caught me once and lectured me. So when I find myself doing that in a book that I want to read, I’ll read aloud. There’s something so soothing about that exercise, and it keeps me focused.

My husband and I read to each other. We started doing this on a vacation while we were dating - Memories of a Geisha. It’s usually pretty light stuff - Harry Potter, etc. - and we read a chapter a night, taking turns who reads. We both find it really relaxing and a great cuddle activity.

I actually started reading Deerskin to my now-husband just after we met, and before we were dating. After we were dating it was time to seriously work on his reading education- he hadn’t read Anne of Green Gables!

I skip, too, when I’m reading silently. I get so much more detail if I read aloud. Some books read very well aloud, and some suck. Authors with a very literary and verbose style tend not to read well unless they’ve got a good sense of word rhythm. I strongly recommend against trying to read The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress or Watership Down aloud. It didn’t work at all.

I like reading aloud-- though I’ve mostly done it in Bible studies and the like. I don’t mind mispronouncing words.

I’m not a big fan of being read to, too impatient.

Right now, my mother and I are listening to a book on tape while we each do counted cross stitch. It seems to be working, at least for me. Just enough activity to keep me sitting still and not fidgeting, but nothing that really takes my concentration away from the words. (The fact that the cross stitch at the moment is incredibly easy and boring probably doesn’t hurt. Mom’s project is much more involved and she was struggling to get started.)

For years I used to read aloud to my wife while she drifted off to sleep. Due to my horrific snoring I let her get a head start so that I didn’t disturb her sleep. At the time I was a smoker and used to really revel in the relaxation of having a cigarette and and a drink while she lay with her head on my shoulder listening to me read. The only tricky bit was sensing when she had drifted off so as to stop rather than plowing ahead unheard.

It’s a handy knack being able to read one-handed and use your thumb for page turning, particularly in the bath.

I started this after a long car trip, and enjoy it. I listened to Beowulf also, and agree. I’m just finishing For Whom the Bell Tolls.

My wife and I don’t read to each other, for lack of time and the desire to get through books faster. But I read to my daughter every night right up to the point she left for college. We got through all the Ramona books, about five Oz books, Alice in Wonderland, Animal Farm, the Black Stallion, over 30 Nancy Drew books (a few originals, most in the 50s - 60s revisions) and tons more I can’t remember. We joked about the other needing this time together, but we still did it.

I MISTied some of them - long before MST3K was on. (I remember Andy’s Gang!) When she read a Nancy Drew herself, just a year ago, she was shocked that the housekeeper’s name was Hannah Gruen, not Gruesome.

I like to read to my sweetie on long car rides; it keeps him entertained and it keeps me awake. I get really thirsty though, and if I read for too long I get a bit hoarse. I also hate it when I stumble over a word or phrase, but it’s nice because we can discuss a bit of what was just read and not feel like either of us is intruding.

Same with my family. My dad ran his own business, so the hour after dinner when we’d sit down and read a Hardy Boys mystery was often the only time I’d see him all day. It was also something to do to pass the time on long car trips, when we’d drive 26 hours back to South Dakota each summer. We went through several Anne McCaffery books, the Narnia books, most of the Hardy Boys and a few Nancy Drews. My dad and I like sci-fi, my sister likes sappy period books (like Anne of Green Gables, or Little House on the Prarie), my mother likes non-fiction, and my brother likes fantasy.

So it’s hard to find something everyone could enjoy. We usually compromised with mysteries.

I can compromise on many things regarding my future family, but reading together is an absolute necessity, IMO.