Reading, and Why I Keep Going

Today again, I bought a few more books. I’ve finished reading 49 books this year. Almost all of my reading is through audio (yes, there are people online who question whether that even counts as “reading”). It has long been my desire to become one of Kerala’s foremost readers.

I grew up in a home filled with newspapers, weeklies, and books. Before I’d even read a single Malayalam novel, I had already gone through most of the Bengali classics. When I think of serious readers in Kerala, I think of Ajai Mangatt, Pradeep Bhaskar, and Vaikom Murali—not necessarily because of the number of books they’ve read, but because of what they’ve read (matching taste is part of it too). My goal is to read enough to reach their level—especially when it comes to literary classics. That said, I’ve recommended books to all three—possibly because I dig deep into the internet.

I’ve only named three, but there are others I think have excellent taste—Benny, Aadarsh, and many more, including Divya and Athul. People with whom book conversations are worth having. There are many such people online. Offline, it’s a different circle. Some, I won’t name here out of respect for their privacy.

But I don’t read books because someone recommended them. I rarely read contemporary fiction or poetry anymore, and almost never in Malayalam. Lately, I’ve started to feel that my judgment has become quite precise—or rather, that what continuous reading has given me is a refined sense of taste. The number of books doesn’t matter.

For example, I’ve read The Waste Land many times. But my relationship with that poem changed completely after reading Matthew Hollis’s The Waste Land: A Biography of a Poem. I even bought a hardback copy of The Waste Land afterward. I went back to Eliot, reading more of his poetry with new focus.

The book doesn’t just examine what Eliot and Pound achieved in poetry and prose (I’ve written about that here before); it also brings in uncomfortable truths: their antisemitism, and Eliot’s indifference—if not hostility—toward Black Americans during World War I (while Black soldiers were fighting in Europe, their families were being attacked back home in the U.S.). During the Harlem Renaissance and the Civil Rights movements that followed, Eliot had remained largely silent.

Now that I’m seriously reading Proust, I’ve been reflecting on his views on Jews and the Dreyfus Affair—which are embedded in the world of In Search of Lost Time. (And to be clear—none of this is about Israel, that rogue state. Many Jews in Israel are ethno-nationalists with dual passports. When some of them began returning to their countries of origin, Israel imposed new travel restrictions. It’s only if they die there that people like Trump and Netanyahu find them useful.)

I’ve written earlier about Terror on the Rhine—another fascinating subject from that era. The book touches on post-war German shame, among other things. One poem’s history can reach deep into world history. That’s the power of reading classics. It sharpens the reader’s mind. That sharpening is the true reward of reading.

Yes, it takes effort. But every fact I come across, I cross-check using tools like ChatGPT. That often leads me to other links, other books. Can one read meaningfully without doing all this? Of course. But this is my way. The nature of my hobby. I don’t expect others to follow it—but it’s possible.

There isn’t a day I don’t read. I usually have 6 or 7 books going in parallel on my Kindle. Among them are the American literary legends I mentioned in my last blog post. A country’s national character and its literature don’t always align. America, for instance, has rebellious voices. But its jingoistic military establishment suppresses them (the closest analogy for us would be Pakistan’s military establishment). That’s what many who move to America from here—and then proudly declare that they’re “not socialists”—fail to understand. They’re not echoing the right voice.

The same goes for Israel. There are dissenting voices there too—Amos Oz, David Grossman, and others. Europe, Australia, and the Spanish-speaking world are the same. Yes, capitalism has the power to defeat books. It can burn them, bomb landmarks. But it cannot destroy collective knowledge—or the internet where that knowledge resides.

Or rather, the problem isn’t the internet—it’s how we use it.

Tools like ChatGPT were created to control narrative flow—to regulate how knowledge circulates. But ultimately, humans are rebels. Of course, not everyone is. Some live inside their little wet-dream worlds. That’s exactly what capitalism wants—more people like that. But the rebels—readers, seekers—try to subvert and resist it.

Look, I’m someone with a demanding job and a busy life. I could’ve spent today’s unexpected holiday reading a great book. But if this long post gets even one person to read a worthwhile book today, then as a progressive—as someone who values human dignity and thought—I consider my duty fulfilled.

Reading is a privilege. But I believe the way I use that privilege makes it a little lighter to carry.

That’s all for now.