- What do you think of reading aloud/being read to? Does it bring back memories of your childhood? Your children’s childhood?
- Does this affect the way you feel about audio books?
- Do you now have times when you read aloud or are read to?
- As a kid, I liked it. My mother read to me a lot, but I learned to read very early—I actually don’t remember not being able to read, although, of course, I couldn’t at some point.
- Not really; my feelings towards audiobooks come from the way I learn. I’m a visual learner, so I can’t initially engage with a text via audiobook; I miss things, I can’t take notes, I can’t mark passages, so on and so forth. I can only listen to audiobooks that I’ve already read in print form; it’s how I reread books, really.
- Nope, unless audiobooks count.
And here’s a quote from Alberto Manguel’s A History of Reading that, I think, manages to express both the tyranny and the comfort of being read to:
At the same time, the act of reading out loud to an attentive listener often forces the reader to become more punctilious, to read without skipping or going back to a previous passage, fixing the text by means of a certain ritual formality. Whether in the Benedictine monasteries or the winter rooms of the late Middle Ages, in the inns and kitchens of the Renaissance or the drawing-rooms and cigar factories of the nineteenth century—even today, listening to an actor read a book on tape as we drive down the highway—the ceremony of being read to no doubt deprives the listener of some of the freedom inherent in the act of reading—choosing a tone, stressing a point, returning to a best-loved passage—but it also gives the versatile text a respectable identity, a sense of unity in time and an existence in space that it seldom has in the capricious hands of a solitary reader. (123)
- Manguel, Alberto. A History of Reading. 1996. New York: Penguin, 1997. Print.