Fear and Confession
Eighth grade science was the first time I noticed it. I was reading my science book, and the words started swimming around on the page. I remember it vividly. It was highly frustrating, for science was my favorite subject. Not only was it science, it was the cytology unit! I was seriously irked. I wanted to learn about mitochondria, for pete's sake! (Yes, I was odd, but I can fully explain this one. A Wind in the Door had mitochondria in it, and I was and remain quite fond of Madeleine L'Engle.) So there I was, for once in my life honestly trying to do homework, and I was practically illiterate.
I was a voracious reader at that age. I still am, when there's time. Tonight, for example, I read book two of the Underland Chronicles. I reread Gregor the Overlander a few days ago. Mistake. Now I have to reread the whole series. I currently lack book five, and I can't buy it because that's the rule when birthdays draw nigh. But Suzanne Collins is amazing. So of course I torment myself by proceeding on my merry way as though I could just fly through the five books unimpeded.
This got me to wondering for the thousandth time. Why can I read fiction without difficulty when non-fiction is almost impossible?
Thinking back, though, it wasn't the first time. But it was the first time after I got glasses in hopes of correcting that very problem. It wouldn't be the last. If a large print book with pictures and short sections was problematic, imagine the journal articles I had to manage in college! I remember one particularly heinous one that caused a panic attack. The author was Finnish, so his communication style was rather foreign. He didn't bother getting around to a thesis until page three. I barely made it that far, and I gave up shortly thereafter. It was too much to fight swimming words, dense, stilted sentences, and shabby organization all at once!
I find that I can read narrative just fine, as long as it isn't dense. This is why I favor teen lit and avoid highbrow literature. This is why I like fantasy, science fiction, and historical fiction. There aren't layers. They are what they are, and it's all right there. Give me a Hawthorne short story, and I will devour it. Ask me what it means, ask for symbolism or any of that other stuff I didn't learn in high school, and all you'll get from me is a dirty look. If you're lucky. I only read the story, and if there are other meanings, you can bet I never saw them.
I had an aha moment tonight, after Gregor wrapped up the Prophecy of Bane and went home. I know I have some manner of learning disability (probably several) that involves visual processing. I have trouble tracking- following lines of text- and I am completely unable to copy text by hand without significant effort. It takes me ages to make sense of what I see, while I can respond to the same cue, if spoken, instantly. I have long suspected that the swimming text is the same issue, or at least related. Still, why doesn't this happen with fiction?
Ah, but it does. I can't read Joyce or Salinger at all. I've finished one book each, but I have no memory of either except that I hated them. They both took far too long to read, considering how short they were. Neither was in the least enjoyable. Melville was too much, the one time I attempted him. I didn't get far past "Call me Ishmael." I found Hugo infuriating. Even Tolkien, king of twentieth century English literature, makes my head swim at times. I have to revert to scanning at certain points along Frodo's journey, because the words are on a river even if the hobbits are on dry ground! Unlike the others, though, Tolkien is completely worth the struggle.
So it is. I, who was reading National Geographic at age six, who tested at post high school reading level before I was ten, who hid reading books inside of text books all through junior high and high school, cannot read anything requiring more effort than Tolkien. Between having to chase words around the page and the tremendous lag between seeing the words and registering their senses, it just takes too much energy. I'm no fan of the word "can't," but I'm all too aware of my limits, and this is one. My brain just wasn't designed for serious reading.
No wonder school never worked all that well for me. And no wonder I'm afraid to really consider grad school. Once upon a time I was pretty good at bluffing my way through with minimal reading. I am so out of practice...
I was a voracious reader at that age. I still am, when there's time. Tonight, for example, I read book two of the Underland Chronicles. I reread Gregor the Overlander a few days ago. Mistake. Now I have to reread the whole series. I currently lack book five, and I can't buy it because that's the rule when birthdays draw nigh. But Suzanne Collins is amazing. So of course I torment myself by proceeding on my merry way as though I could just fly through the five books unimpeded.
This got me to wondering for the thousandth time. Why can I read fiction without difficulty when non-fiction is almost impossible?
Thinking back, though, it wasn't the first time. But it was the first time after I got glasses in hopes of correcting that very problem. It wouldn't be the last. If a large print book with pictures and short sections was problematic, imagine the journal articles I had to manage in college! I remember one particularly heinous one that caused a panic attack. The author was Finnish, so his communication style was rather foreign. He didn't bother getting around to a thesis until page three. I barely made it that far, and I gave up shortly thereafter. It was too much to fight swimming words, dense, stilted sentences, and shabby organization all at once!
I find that I can read narrative just fine, as long as it isn't dense. This is why I favor teen lit and avoid highbrow literature. This is why I like fantasy, science fiction, and historical fiction. There aren't layers. They are what they are, and it's all right there. Give me a Hawthorne short story, and I will devour it. Ask me what it means, ask for symbolism or any of that other stuff I didn't learn in high school, and all you'll get from me is a dirty look. If you're lucky. I only read the story, and if there are other meanings, you can bet I never saw them.
I had an aha moment tonight, after Gregor wrapped up the Prophecy of Bane and went home. I know I have some manner of learning disability (probably several) that involves visual processing. I have trouble tracking- following lines of text- and I am completely unable to copy text by hand without significant effort. It takes me ages to make sense of what I see, while I can respond to the same cue, if spoken, instantly. I have long suspected that the swimming text is the same issue, or at least related. Still, why doesn't this happen with fiction?
Ah, but it does. I can't read Joyce or Salinger at all. I've finished one book each, but I have no memory of either except that I hated them. They both took far too long to read, considering how short they were. Neither was in the least enjoyable. Melville was too much, the one time I attempted him. I didn't get far past "Call me Ishmael." I found Hugo infuriating. Even Tolkien, king of twentieth century English literature, makes my head swim at times. I have to revert to scanning at certain points along Frodo's journey, because the words are on a river even if the hobbits are on dry ground! Unlike the others, though, Tolkien is completely worth the struggle.
So it is. I, who was reading National Geographic at age six, who tested at post high school reading level before I was ten, who hid reading books inside of text books all through junior high and high school, cannot read anything requiring more effort than Tolkien. Between having to chase words around the page and the tremendous lag between seeing the words and registering their senses, it just takes too much energy. I'm no fan of the word "can't," but I'm all too aware of my limits, and this is one. My brain just wasn't designed for serious reading.
No wonder school never worked all that well for me. And no wonder I'm afraid to really consider grad school. Once upon a time I was pretty good at bluffing my way through with minimal reading. I am so out of practice...
posted by Sam Gamgee at
12:53 AM
4 Comments:
"A Wrinkle in Time" Rocked my world!
you have just the opposite of me. I have trouble with the auditory. I've had to come to rely on visual such as reading lips to make up context clues for what I can't understand when people speak and I smile and nod all the while my brain is eating word salad. don't know if this will help but start here. http://www.ldanatl.org/aboutld/parents/ld_basics/visual.asp
I feel like I am in the same boat and I have accidentally brought a couple of my offspring along for the ride. Maybe someone has turned your college text books into audible books?
Hi, if I may speak up, debbie z has a good idea - universities generally provide services like textbooks on tape for students who have learning disabilities.
(I think I saw that your area of interest is linguistics. I'm also a linguistics student and recently chrismated Orthodox - and, as you can perhaps tell from my online name, a Tolkien fan.)
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