In honor of my birthday today, I want to share a wonderful, healing gift that I received.
I recently met a very wise woman, Lori Thornley, who told me about the respectful, holy way in which she approaches a new book—a practice I think of as “reading with reverence.”
When Lori picks up a book in a bookstore or library, she begins by looking at the cover art and the author’s name. For a children’s book, she also looks at the name of the illustrator. She taught her kids to do this from the time they were little, and they got excited when they saw that same person had written a book and also illustrated it.
Then she looks at the author’s (and illustrator’s) photograph and biography, with a sense of gratitude for the work that’s going into creating the story. Next she looks at the dedication and acknowledgements, seeing the book’s creator(s) in a community of friends and supporters.
Only then does she start reading the story.
As a reader, I’m inspired to bring that kind of awareness to a new book—and yes, it seems more challenging with an e-book, but not impossible, especially if you resist the e-reader’s default mode of taking you to page 1 and instead start at the cover. By the way, reading with reverence does not require suspending critical judgment. But what about making a thoughtful comment, instead of just clicking x number of stars?
As a writer … Any of us who write may despair at the time, sweat, and angst that can go into even one paragraph, and how quickly—and at times dismissively—our work is read. Lori is a healer, and having this conversation felt like getting bodywork from someone who knows exactly where to touch, even places I didn’t realize were aching … until I felt the relief of having them massaged.
Reading with reverence also strikes me as wonderfully subversive.
It’s easy to see a book, particularly if it’s in a store with a bar-coded price on it, as just one more commodity. In Lori’s simple practice, which takes only a few minutes, she places herself—and the book and the author—outside of that framework of commodification. She makes a human connection between the person who created the world inside a book and herself as a reader about to enter that world. That’s a thrilling imaginative act.