michael-dean-k/

Topic

vocabulary

2 pieces

How should an essay writer read?

· 2145 words

What and how you read should heavily depend on what your goal is. Outputs shape inputs. When someone insists you go back to read The Great Books, in order, in their entirety, they're giving you bad advice. It's not that those books aren't great—I hope to read Paradise Lost and Dante's Inferno and Finnegan's Wake and the Odyssey before I die— the problem is it's too generic a suggestion. To spend thousands of hours deep in the canon will obviously change you, but that's equivalent of throwing a beginner into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, hoping they'll figure it out, with no sense of what their goals are.

If your goal is to write essays (every day, week, or month), then you're reading diet should look very different from a philosopher, professor, or researcher. You might not need to be a professional reader, but you should still strive to be a serious one. 3-4 hours a day might not be feasible, but 30-60 minutes per day through an intentionally selected list of sources will slowly build maps of material to fuse into your work.

If you're an essayist, you read so that concepts, forms, feelings, and words are always within reach from an idea of your own. It's no use quoting Aristotle from memory if you can't bend Aristotle to augment an original idea of your own.

It's time to make a syllabus. I've been guilty my whole life of haphazardly reading books and essays as I come across them, but now that I'm over 5 years into writing essays, I feel it's time to be more intentional. This essay is the artifact of me mapping out what, why, and how I'll be reading in the next 2-3 years. I've broken it into four practices: reading for ideas, reading for craft, reading for words, reading for feeling.

Reading for ideas

Since essays are so personal, it's very possible to draw from nothing else than the bank of your own life experience. Memory is absolutely one realm of material, but also, it helps to pull concepts from the world around you, in your time and in all times before. Anyone is exposed to some sliver of culture, and I suppose you could just rely on that. But there's another path which involves actively educating yourself.

Before I dive into the details of philosophy or history, I'm going to build a map. I want to go wide, not deep, because my existing maps are too fuzzy. ie: Who was Thomas Aquinas? Who influenced him, who did he influence, and could I hand write an essay on three of his big ideas? Until I can do that with 100 figures from antiquity to now, all interconnected in a web, I'm not prepared to dive into any Great Book. It would be a tremendous waste of time, for me at this moment in my life, to read The Leviathan by Hobbes in full, especially when I could read 30 pages on it from Alan Ryan, a philosopher-curator, whose prose is 400 years more modern, and who can contextualize old ideas into the full history. In the time I could finish one book from Hobbes, I could read Ryan's entire textbook and know 30 different thinkers at much higher resolution than I know now. By the end, I'll have an updated index on the history of political philosophy, and maybe I'll know that—based on my current writings—it makes more sense to dive into Rousseau in full.

How would my mind be different if I found and read the best curator across every field?

There's a specific kind of book I'm looking for to update my maps. It's not a textbook. It's similar in it's encyclopedic range, except it is slanted by a thesis, animated through a fervent voice, and concerned with the psychology behind the person known for an idea (instead of just biographical facts). Each chapter focuses on a figure for 25-50 pages, which feels like the right level of immersion. It might take 2 hours, compared to 20 hours for the source, and 20 seconds for Claude. While AI can surface historical ideas perfectly suited for your working draft, the problem is you outsourcing your recall. The recommendations are mechanical, impersonal, and worst of all, disembodied: you can't do it in your own head. By reading a sharp longform essay on Aquinas, his ideas will crystallize in my head and load into my subconscious; I'll know when he's relevant to my ideas at the layer of thinking itself.

The nudge to read all of Aquinas from scratch, on principle, is like asking a software developer to derive Internet standards from scratch instead of using libraries and plug-ins. For any thinker that matters, there's at least one person who spent a good deal of their life deeply understanding the source and distilling the concepts for you.

I'm going to share my working list, but the main caveat here is I'm not going in any particular order, and it's not necessary to read cover-to-cover. In any given month I'll be reading 1-2 chapters from 10 of these 24 books. In 45 minutes per day, I can get through most of this by the end of 2028 (2.5 years from now). Everything was published within the last one hundred years, and the whole thing costs $327.

You'll notice that all the links above are Kindle. This is because I want to have my highlights as atomic markdown files. The goal is not to read, but to write! Mapping and reading is just the setup so that I can read through and find highlights that spark original reactions. Montaigne's whole idea was to talk to his library, to be in conversation with the past through his books. And so the goal here is not to finish X books per year, but to produce original material. This is close to sounding like a Zettlekasten, but I should clarify that I don't plan to meticulously arrange my private highlights. A highlight is simply a prompt for an original paragraph that will immediately live on my website.

Other ways to read

I haven't spent as much time mapping out the other three modes, so I'll cover them briefly below, knowing I'll expand them later.

  • Reading for craft: If you writing essays, then reading them is how you learn through osmosis. It's where you pick up on the patterns on form and voice, consciously and subconsciously. My thinking here is to pick one essayists per week, read as much I'm inspired to, and move on. It's important to cycle here, because hanging too long on any one writer might lock you into a particular influence without realizing. I'm planning a summer syllabus for Essay Club so we can do this as a group.
  • Reading for words: Two years ago, I got really into reference books: dictionaries, usage dictionaries, the thesaurus, etymology, and even specialized dictionaries (on architecture, philosophy, scientific concepts). Sometimes I'd read cover to cover (futile), and others I'd practice words in ANKI. Expanding your vocabulary is seen is a pretentious thing to do today, when so much is geared towards simplicity and accessibility. Won't a rare word alienate the average user in your audience? No, because in the right context, ambitious words can increase the resolution in how you describe something. There's a joy in searching for words, but again, this comes back to returning to them repeatedly until it's actually coming through your prose.
  • Reading for feeling: Novels and poetry are less about collecting bits to synthesize into your work. This is more an act of expanding your understanding of how words can make you feel. Less about analysis, more about immersion.

Some words I don't know well enough

· 79 words

These are words I recognize, but probably don't the nuance well enough to integrate into my own prose: countenance, prodigious, clamor, visage, abate, undulate, venerate, incredulous, traverse, repose, lurid, languid, sagacity, tremulous, odious, pallor, stolid, wistful, prostrate, remonstrate, palpable, amiable, portent, importune, expostulate, vivacious, despond, doleful, pervade, pensive, procure, abject, austere, magnanimous, oblique, sallow, ignomy, resolute, furtive, fain, genial, mien, billow, confound, wan, indolent, reproach, morose, antipathy, alacrity, vestige, verdure, rebuke, inexorable, din, fortnight, abash, imperious, swarthy, impute, appellation.