the way we read

Yesterday was the first day of Obama's presidency and, less notably, my first day of class. I'm teaching a writing-intensive course on the anthropology of gender. In hopes of imparting some of my passion for words, I read the first few paragraphs of Kakutani's piece on Obama and books to my students:

In college, as he was getting involved in protests against the apartheid government in South Africa, Barack Obama noticed, he has written, “that people had begun to listen to my opinions.” Words, the young Mr. Obama realized, had the power “to transform”: “with the right words everything could change - South Africa, the lives of ghetto kids just a few miles away, my own tenuous place in the world.”

Much has been made of Mr. Obama’s eloquence — his ability to use words in his speeches to persuade and uplift and inspire. But his appreciation of the magic of language and his ardent love of reading have not only endowed him with a rare ability to communicate his ideas to millions of Americans while contextualizing complex ideas about race and religion, they have also shaped his sense of who he is and his apprehension of the world.

Obama notwithstanding, we are far removed from the days of "you are what you read." One of my friends can't remember the last time he read an entire book, cover to cover. Kakutani notes that George W. Bush competed with Karl Rove to race through as many books as possible (in 2006, Rove 110 - Bush 95). A motto for the twittering generation might be "you are the way you read."

It's obvious that writing involves diverse practices - from email to screenplays, from Facebook updates to term papers. But reading, too, requires and enables different dispositions. The great thing about this country is that you can be on either end of the Bush ("I race Rove...and lose") - Obama ("ardent love of reading") spectrum and aspire to be the president of the United States. All are created equal, yes, but some are just sexier than others.