I know people who ‘read’ enormously, book for book, letter for letter, yet whom I would not describe as ‘well-read.’ True, they possess a mass of ‘knowledge,’ but their brain is unable to organize and register the material they have taken in. They lack the art of sifting what is valuable for them in a book from that which is without value, of retaining the one forever, and, if possible, not even seeing the rest, but in any case not dragging it around with them as useless ballast.
For reading is no end in itself, but a means to an end. It should primarily help to fill the framework constituted by every man’s talents and abilities; in addition, it should provide the tools and building materials which the individual needs for his life’s work, regardless whether this consists in a primitive struggle for sustenance or the satisfaction of a high calling; secondly, it should transmit a general world view. In both cases, however, it is essential that the content of what one reads at any time should not be transmitted to the memory in the sequence of the book or books, but like the stone of a mosaic should fit into the general world picture in its proper place, and thus help to form this picture in the mind of the reader.
Otherwise there arises a confused muddle of memorized facts which not only are worthless, but also make their unfortunate possessor conceited. For such a reader now believes himself in all seriousness to be ‘educated,’ to understand something of life, to have knowledge, while in reality, with every new acquisition of this kind of ‘education/ he is growing more and more removed from the world until, not infrequently, he ends up in a sanitarium or in parliament.
On the other hand, a man who possesses the art of correct reading will, in studying any book, magazine, or pamphlet, instinctively and immediately perceive everything which in his opinion is worth permanently remembering, either because it is suited to his purpose or generally worth knowing. Once the knowledge he has achieved in this fashion is correctly coordinated within the somehow existing picture of this or that subject created by the imagination, it will function either as a corrective or a complement, thus enhancing either the correctness or the clarity of the picture.
Then, if life suddenly sets some question before us for examination or answer, the memory, if this method of reading is observed, will immediately take the existing picture as a norm, and from it will derive all the individual items regarding these questions, assembled in the course of decades, submit them to the mind for examination and reconsideration, until the
