On the Reading of Old Books

I came across a great essay by C. S. Lewis entitled “On the Reading of Old Books,” included in his collection God in the Dock. Some good excerpts include:

“There is a strange idea abroad that in every subject the ancient books should be read only by the professionals, and that the amateur should content himself with the modern books. Thus I have found as a tutor in English Literature that if the average student wants to find out something about Platonism, the very last thing he thinks of doing is to take a translation of Plato off the library shelf and read the Symposium. He would rather read some dreary modern book ten times as long, all about ‘isms’ and influences and only once in twelve pages telling him what Plato actually said. The error is rather an amiable one, for it springs from humility. The student is half afraid to meet one of the great philosophers face to face. He feels himself inadequate and thinks he will not understand him. But if he only knew, the great man, just because of his greatness, is much more intelligible than his modern commentator. The simplest student will be able to understand, if not all, yet a very great deal of what Plato said; but hardly anyone can understand some modern books on Platonism. It has always therefore been one of my main endeavours as a teacher to persuade the young that firsthand knowledge is not only more worth acquiring than secondhand knowledge, but is usually much easier and more delightful to acquire.

This mistaken preference for modern books and this shyness of the old ones is nowhere more rampant than in theology. . . . Naturally, since I myself am a writer, I do not wish the ordinary reader to read no modern books. But if he must read only the new or only the old, I would advise him to read the old. And I would give him this advice precisely because he is an amateur and therefore much less protected than the expert against the dangers of an exclusive contemporary diet.

. . . It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between. If that is too much for you, you should at least read one old one to every three new ones.

. . . For my own part, I tend to find the doctrinal books often more helpful in devotion than the devotional books, and I rather suspect that the same experience may await many others. I believe that many who find that ‘nothing happens’ when they sit down, or kneel down, to a book of devotion, would find that the heart sings unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand.” (God in the Dock, pgs. 200-205)

Lewis’ advice here is challenging to me because I have generally been attracted to “new” books on topics that interest me — worship, theology, ministry, arts, music, history. I look on my bookcases here in my home office, and they are filled with volumes that are relatively new. Lewis challenges me as a growing Christian to discover (or re-discover) those books that have fed earlier generations, and will give me nourishment today. When we only read the “new stuff” we run the danger of only sustaining ourselves with pre-digested, secondhand material. We would never thinking of reaching into someone’s stomach to get our food, but that’s exactly what we do when we only read what others have said about the Bible, or about the classics, instead of interacting directly with it ourselves. Our intellectual diet should not only consist of pre-digested food.

His words also challenge me as a professor. How can I better help my students interact directly with original sources and material? Am I too drawn to the newest books — those that are “hyped” or popular, but not tested by time?

A few days ago I revisited James Emery White’s excellent little book A Mind for God, which helps us understand how to develop our minds, and also contains good reading lists for Christians who want to grow. You can also visit his website Serious Times for some very good resources. This week I also began The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky. To say that it’s a quite a big and compex book is kind of an understatement. But I’m determined to get through, with the help of a couple of freely available online study guides. Here’s to old books!