OBSESSION READING

Umberto Eco once wrote: “A book is an obsession, a passion that borders on mania, one that can never be fully satisfied. It is a window to infinity, a way to relive past eras and to feel part of a chain of knowledge and culture that stretches across centuries.”

A DIFFERENT POINT OF VIEW

by Andrea Bandiera

Eco also argued that today’s concerns about technology replacing human intelligence are nothing new. They echo the same fears expressed by the Pharaoh in Plato’s Phaedrus, who anxiously asked the god Thoth, the inventor of writing, whether this new device would weaken human memory and, consequently, the ability to think. It’s the same kind of fear humans must have felt the first time they saw a wheel “They must have thought we would forget how to walk.” Discomfort with new ways of capturing memory, with advancing technology that seems to threaten human intelligence, has always been a part of history. But what has humanity truly gained from writing, printing, and digital memory? It has gained richness because books are the memory of our species, allowing us to live countless lives. Books help us discern, to recognize when we should pause and reflect. The stories of others teach us about what has happened or what is imagined to have happened. Those books that have become classics, surviving through time and hardship while continuing to convey something meaningful, become tools to navigate crises that challenge our very existence. Classics are the indelible traces of humanity’s journey, a guide that connects us to our roots, revealing that some thoughts from the past are more modern than our own today. We read because we want to know more, to think clearly, to meet men and women worth knowing. But why do writers write? In her essay Why I Write, Joan Didion explores the motivations behind this act and reveals that she writes because there is always a lie to expose, something that demands attention. She writes because she has no choice, because she needs to, because it is part of who she is and how she makes sense of existence. Some writers, like Didion, deliberately remove themselves from the forefront, adopting a more withdrawn perspective, one that steps back from center stage. They observe, provide readers with the necessary tools, and allow them to draw their own conclusions. This style of writing captures the essence of modernity where absolute objectivity is rejected, and its unattainability is acknowledged. We choose to read certain authors not just for what they write but for how they write for the chance to immerse ourselves in their partial, subjective vision of the world. Somehow, their words on the page can almost magically give voice to our own thoughts. Writing is as essential as breathing, as instinctive as a heartbeat. We write to understand what we think, what we see, and, most importantly, what it all means. And we read for the very same reasons. We write to stay connected to reality, to the world around us, to the threads of our own existence and that of humanity itself. We read not just to be content with our own thoughts, but to discover the work of others and to realize how much there is still to learn. Marcel Proust believed that reading is a dialogue between the reader and the writer, who does not impose absolute truths in a book but instead leaves space for readers to explore and find their own. Reading is a vital experience, it allows us to connect with the inner world of the writer while enriching and reshaping ourselves in the process. Both writers and readers welcome the unknown, taking the risk of opening their reality to new possibilities. Reading becomes a way to go beyond the limits of time and space, creating a kind of magical dialogue with the writer.

Books serve as a key, unlocking the deepest parts of our consciousness, bringing us into contact with other minds, and shaping our spirit. The way we communicate today is evolving at an unprecedented speed, accelerating this dialogue. Media, including social platforms, are not just external tools; they influence our thoughts, habits, and passions. Naturally, this brings about a crisis in the reading experience, though in this case, “crisis” should be seen as an opportunity for change. Throughout history, reading habits have shifted in response to new forms of communication. However, these changes have never led to a complete rupture; instead, they have fostered new and creative ways of engaging with text. What has truly changed is our ability to focus, to carve out time and space for reading. Ongoing technological innovations have transformed our behaviors and relationships in profound ways. Among other things, they have moved texts onto digital platforms, marking a historic transition from paper to screen and giving rise to new ways of reading. The time and space we dedicate to reading may change, but the meaning we seek within what we read remains the same. That purpose, that value, that desire will continue to exist regardless of the book’s physical form. Those who feel the need to read will always turn to books in all their evolving formats. What truly matters is that the delicate thread connecting the writer to the reader is never broken. Reading fosters social, cultural, and economic inclusion; it nourishes other cultural practices and creates spaces for connection. More and more initiatives are emerging to provide welcoming spaces for those who wish to share the experience of reading. No two groups are the same, and the topics they explore may vary, but one belief unites them all: when reading is shared and engaged with collectively, it enriches the experience, broadens perspectives, and encourages dialogue and connection. Reading also has a powerful ally, our voice. Reading aloud can introduce the joy and value of books to those who have yet to discover them. In a way, it completes a cycle that began long ago when spoken words were first transformed into written text, accelerating abstract thought and inspiring new ideas. If listening to a voice reading has such a profound impact, if reading aloud enhances imagination and brings satisfaction, there is one final element that makes this rediscovery of the spoken word truly special: its relational power. Reading to someone, reading for someone, strengthens empathy. It is an act of care, kindness, and love that deepens our connections with others. Think of the tenderness in The Reader by Bernhard Schlink, and in its film adaptation by Stephen Daldry, starring Kate Winslet. Michael reads classic novels to Hanna with a quiet gentleness that lingers, even years later long after their physical relationship has faded and after Hanna’s past is revealed to be unforgivable. Despite the horrors she committed, while she is in prison serving her sentence, Michael regularly sends her recordings of himself reading aloud. Through his voice, the illiterate Hanna learns to read. Love transforms into care, then into compassion, only to turn, in the end, into something unsettling. When Hanna finally confesses that, during her years in prison, she has realized that “the dead are dead” but at least she has learned to read, her words sum up the tragic emptiness of her life, a stark and merciless self-reflection. Here, the reader is someone who reads for another, speaking directly to their essence. Reading aloud is an act that nourishes and restores humanity to those who listen. The more care and generosity we bring to reading, the more diverse the voices and languages involved. Reading together, sharing different texts and even different languages, breaks down barriers. It brings people closer. Sometimes, it even brings peace. Reading is freedom. It is a two-way process: inward, into our own world, and outward, into the world around us. It is essential to the act of seeking knowledge. It has its own rhythm, set by the will of the reader. It opens spaces for reflection, meditation, and critical thought. It is an obsession that becomes an act of liberation. One that, as Umberto Eco believed, extends not only our own lives but also the lives of others.