R: Reading Regret
Sometimes you read a book before you’re quite old enough or knowledgeable enough to understand it. On one hand, you may reread it one day and say “Ohhhhh, THAT’S what’s going on” and all shall be illuminated. More likely, however, you will regard it with confusion, disdain, and mild hatred or apathy, and never ever read it again.
At least, that’s how I feel about some of the books I read in school.
It’s why I’m disinclined to ever pick up anything by Hemingway again. It’s why I resent Margaret Mitchell so much. It’s why (to steal a cliché from a completely different sphere) I’m glad I waited to read 1984: I probably would have appreciated it in college, but had I read it sooner, I might’ve said “Well, that was fine, I guess” and never understood all the terrifying implications of it.
The tricky thing is, reading is one of the ways in which people grow better at reading and understanding. So while I’d get more out of, say, The Great Gatsby today, maybe it was still worth the effort put in during my freshman year at Westland.
What reading regrets, if any, do you have?