To Read Or Not To Read...

Two night ago I received concrete proof that Hanting 21 has, basically, completely failed.

A little explanation is in order. Inspired by the Singapore 21 blueprint a while back, I sat down to chart my desired personal growth for the next few years.

There was probably over-ambition on my part though. Instead of aspiring to be well-rounded (of which I might literally be now boohoo) I simply listed every desirable male characteristic I could think of, thus things like "able to feel genuinely happy and concerned everytime Liver United or whatever-you-call-it-scores" and "able to enjoy rugby whole-heartedly" made the list.

Of course, things haven't changed much. I can't seem to run more than a few kilometres without feeling like I'm giving birth, I still don't congregate at smoky pubs to watch grown men kick a piece of dead cow around, and I watch cool cars zip by without having the slightest idea what engine chassis powers them.

For all I know, they're running on Floo powder.

But I digress. Two nights ago after dinner out, I chanced upon this new quaint little bookshop, and basically experienced feelings akin to a mother holding her newborn for the first time. I rushed inside and lost myself amidst the shelves, burbling with joy everytime I came across a familiar title.

And then, in a moment of extreme weakness, on impulse I bought... my very first Terry Pratchett book. Never did I think that $15 could buy you a little slice of Heaven.

30 minutes later, the shame emerged from the crevice it was hiding it, and overwhelmed me in its entirety. How could I face the world like this, in my bona-fide Geek Mode? What the heck was I doing being happy with buying a book, in an age when only gadgets, girls and sports should be the foundation of the meaning of life for men?

My personal joy quickly became my personal disgrace. I had to stand at Borders and pretend to be interested in FHM for an hour before the social pressure and shame began to subside.

Ahh... yes. Me man, no read big words, like pictures.

The National Library Board has always been in a tizzy over the reading habits of Singaporeans, and rightly so too. Over the years the majority of friends I've made might haven recognized the value and pleasure of reading, but a much smaller proportion actually do so.

In fact, I remember being completely unnerved by a friend who told me, proudly even, that he has never read more than 5 books for leisure in his (sorry) 15 year life. That's like going to Sara Lee and professing your hatred for cakes.

I guess the truth is that books are just not popular as I thought they were, for far too many reasons. Books are boring because they are slow-moving, books fail to create the same intense experience as movies, books take forever to complete. It's amazing how many reasons people will come up with to discharge their guilt.

Given the importance of reading and how you cannot leave it to chance that your kids will develop the reading habit, I delved into teaching methods designed to help your children foster the reading bug.

Although there are many different schools of thought, the general idea seems to be that you need to start them off young. Reading to children before bedtime, or setting a personal example, or encouraging instead of deriding your child everytime he or she picks up a book (aiyoh Ah Seng why read so much read will help you grow brain meh) all help too.

If all else fails I say you should just go and beat them with a chair until they see the importance of reading. Yes, it might hurt you more than it hurts them (though I doubt it), but a little discipline is good in the long run.

I personally have to read something for leisure once in a while, or else I literally feel starved and imbalanced. Reading cases in law just doesn't cut it - in less than half a page the protagonist grows up, gets hit by a car, suffers great injustice, overcomes personal hurdles and sues the butt off the driver.

Sometimes the story ends without you knowing anything more than the hero's first name, which says a lot about developing feeling for the characters involved. After every ten pages or so, I feel like I've been having a row of emotionless one-night stands.

Maybe one day society will progress to the point when avid readers need no longer hide, and can step out from the shadows. When there would be smoky pubs full of people who sit and debate Pratchett, when the rite of passage for young males would be finishing the Wheel of Time in one sitting instead of purchasing their first FHM.

Only time would tell.