I’ve seen the abysmal statistics regarding the number of people who read books. I say abysmal because the statistics always indicate the majority of us do not read books, especially men.
Recently, however, I saw a statistic suggesting the majority of us would like to write a book. Go figure.
I don’t doubt the statistics. At a craft fair in December, I sold thirty-four copies of my novel and the author I accompanied sold almost fifty books. But during the seven hour sale, a frequent response from potential customers to our offering was a wrinkling of the nose and the statement “I don’t read.”
As one of my friends commented, who admits they don’t read? It’s tantamount to confessing “I’ve stopped learning.”
Now some people at the fair said “I only read non-fiction” or “I only read the newspaper” (a dying breed). But they read.
Some said “I don’t have time to read.” Those are the ones I wanted to ask if they watched television, and, if so, what shows they watched. Lately I can’t find any shows more enticing than a book.
I’m married to a man who doesn’t read books. He reads magazines, articles on the Internet, and educational publications. Our son now reads books only as required for school assignments. Once in a while, he admits he enjoyed one. I hold an internal celebration when that happens. Our daughter, on the other hand, seems like she’ll be a lifelong book reader. Picture me cheering wildly.
It’s not nurture. We both read to our children. We encouraged purchasing books, trips to the library, and bedtime reading for years. Of course, the kids see me reading books, demonstrating the desired behavior regularly. So I’m thinking it must be nature.
I wish the statisticians were wrong, but even my husband has considered writing non-fiction books. So why is writing more attractive than reading? Is it the allure of the glamorous lifestyle?
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