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In previous chapters, readers were told that expository books are those which convey knowledge. Within the classification of expository books, there is also a division between practical books (those “concerned with the problems of action”) and theoretical books (those “concerned only with something to be known;” 188). Furthermore, practical books can be divided into those which present rules and those which are “primarily concerned with the principles that generate rules” (190, emphasis added). According to Adler and Van Doren, “in reading a book that is primarily a rule-book, the major propositions to look for, of course, are the rules. A rule is most directly expressed by an imperative rather than a declarative sentence” (190-91). In reading a book dealing with principles, “the major propositions and arguments will, of course, look exactly like those in a purely theoretical book” (191).
Two questions that readers must ask themselves when reading a practical book are “what are the author’s objectives?” and “what means for achieving them is he proposing?” (193). The questions operate under the logic that the author is trying to persuade the reader. Adler and Van Doren argue that “it is the very nature of practical affairs that men have to be persuaded to think and act in a certain way” (193). When a reader agrees with the author, it implies action on the reader’s part. This agreement may be universal (the author’s ends apply to everyone) or selective (the author’s ends apply only to certain people). When it comes to the latter, the reader must decide whether or not to take action (197).
In Chapter 14, Adler and Van Doren acknowledge that more people read fiction than nonfiction. They also reiterate that the material covered thus far mostly applies to nonfiction books. However, this chapter provides instructions for reading imaginative literature in the form of lyrics, novels, and plays. These are works which “try to communicate an experience itself—one that the reader can have or share only by reading” (200). The authors’ first instructions are how not to read this type of literature. They advise against trying to “resist the effect that a work of imaginative literature has on you,” “look[ing] for terms, propositions, and arguments,” and “criticiz[ing] fiction by the standards of truth and consistency that properly apply to communication of knowledge” (201-02).
As for what a reader should do in reading imaginative literature, there are three rules: “you must classify a work of imaginative literature according to its kind,” understand the unity of the whole work, and “not only reduce the whole to its simplest unity, but you must also discover how that whole is constructed out of all its parts” (204-05). Adler and Van Doren remind readers that there is no agreeing or disagreeing with fiction; they either like it or don’t (208). The authors argue that “our critical judgement in the case of expository books concerns their truth, whereas in criticizing belles-lettres, as the word itself suggests, we consider chiefly their beauty” (208).
Chapter 15 follows up Chapter 14 by providing suggestions for getting the most out of specific types of imaginative literature. Adler and Van Doren advise reading fictional stories “quickly and with total immersion” (212). They argue that “ideally, a story should be read at one sitting” because the reader might otherwise forget parts of the plot—and with them, the plot’s unity (212-13). The reader must suspend disbelief and “let the characters into their mind and heart” (213). Whereas the terms of expository works of nonfiction are words and propositions, those of stories are characters and incidents (213).
Because plays fall under fiction, they “should be read like a story” (218). However, Adler and Van Doren warn readers that reading is only part of the work, as plays are meant to be performed—and seen—on a stage (218). The reader of a play must supply the missing dimension in their mind.
When reading poetry, one should read without stopping for comprehension (223). Adler and Van Doren advise rereading a poem aloud, as it allows for greater understanding of the work’s rhythm and rules (224).
The genre of history is quite broad in that it can be applied to “almost every kind of writing that originated in a time period” (229). History is written by different historians with different theories. Because of this, “it is necessary to read more than one account of the history of an event or period if we want to understand it” (233). The reader should question the purpose and structure of different historical accounts. In terms of criticism, history should also be judged only after the reader achieves understanding.
Adler and Van Doren explain that biographies come in several varieties. Definitive biographies are written after their subject has died and “are intended to be the final, exhaustive, scholarly work on the life of someone important” (238-39). Authorized biographies are typically commissioned by friends or heirs of someone important and are often written so the subject “is seen in the best light” (239). When reading about current events, it is important to know the author and question what they want to prove, whom they want to convince, and what special knowledge they assume (244).
Chapter 17 only addresses “the great scientific and mathematic classics of our [American] tradition” and “modern scientific popularizations” (249). Until about a century ago, scientific and mathematic books were written for anyone with access to them. Modern science books, however, tend “to be written by experts for experts” (250). In reading a scientific book, one will encounter either inductive or deductive arguments. The former are propositions grounded in evidence, while the latter are propositions proven by other propositions (252). The challenge with reading inductive arguments is that to truly understand them, one should see the evidence in question rather than simply read it.
Reading mathematics poses unique challenges as well. Adler and Van Doren explain that mathematics is a language with its own vocabulary, grammar, and syntax. Memorization plays a key role in understanding mathematical books because symbols (and their interactions) must be memorized in order to understand the language (255).
According to Adler and Van Doren, readers should recognize that “one of the most remarkable things about the great philosophical books is that they ask the same sort of profound questions that children ask” (265). The two main divisions of philosophy are theoretical (or speculative) questions and those that are practical and normative (268). Theoretical questions are about “what is or happens in the world” (268). Practical and normative questions concern good and evil, right and wrong, and “have to do with what ought to be done or sought” (268).
Being able to distinguish between the philosophical styles of exposition is key to understanding philosophy books. These styles include philosophical dialogue, which is conversational and was mastered by Plato; philosophical treatise (or essay), which typically states a problem and features a beginning, middle and end; meeting of objections, a debate on the main subject; systemization of philosophy, which attempts to organize philosophy like mathematics; and the aphoristic style, in which the author touches on a subject “and then runs off to another subject without properly defending what he has said” (279). Adler and Van Doren argue that “the most important thing to discover in reading any philosophical work is the question or questions it tries to answer” (280).
In the final chapter of Part 3, Adler and Van Doren introduce the social sciences, which “pervade almost everything we read today” (289). An academic explanation of social sciences would include anthropology, economics, sociology, and political science—but this genre could also include disciplines such as law, education, and public administration. According to the authors, “the jargon and metaphors of much social science writing, together with the deep feeling that often imbues it, make for deceptively easy reading. The references are to matters that are readily familiar to the reader” (293). Despite the relative ease with which social sciences can be read, the genre still presents challenges.
The main issue with reading social sciences is that it is difficult to be objective about issues one is passionate about. The authors argue that “you cannot understand a book if you refuse to hear what it is saying” (294). Another issue is that “this field of literature is a mixed, rather than a pure, kind of expository writing” (295). Because of this, readers often have trouble completing the first step of analytical reading—identifying a book. Similarly, answering the last question of analytical reading—“What of it?” (47)—may prove difficult due to readers’ lack of objectivity (i.e., preconceptions concerning emotional issues).
In Part 3, Adler and Van Doren examine approaches to different types of literature. Reading genres (a secondary theme) comes into focus as the authors instruct readers how to read practical books, stories (fictional novels), plays, poems, history, science (and mathematics), philosophy, and social science. Part 3 is uniquely situated, as it follows analytical reading (the second level of reading) and precedes syntopical reading (the fourth level). In introducing readers to new genres via familiar reading methods, this part acts as a bridge to future methods.
In Chapter 13, Adler and Van Doren explain that practical books are expository and “concerned with the problems of action” (188). Specifically, practical books establish rules to follow in order to solve a problem. The instructions for reading practical books do not differ significantly from those for other expository works, but the authors account for the difference, nonetheless. They explain that reading practical books, as opposed to other expository works, requires the reader to discover the author’s motive and how they wish to go about it (195). In other words, after reading and agreeing with a practical book, the reader is called upon to take its instructed action.
Chapters 14-15 present the most radical deviation from the rules discussed in previous chapters, as Adler and Van Doren step away from nonfiction. Their definition of “imaginative literature” comprises novels, plays, and poems. Unlike previous chapters, the authors open Chapter 14 by telling readers what not to do. The secondary theme of reading genres comes up as the authors discuss how fiction affects readers compared to nonfiction. For example, they argue that “Imaginative literature primarily pleases rather than teaches,” but it is difficult to know why one is pleased with “beauty [being] harder to analyze than truth” (199).
In Chapters 16-19, Adler and Van Doren return to nonfiction as they instruct readers how to read history, science and mathematics, philosophy, and social science. These types of books also deviate from previous examples of analytical reading because they are largely theoretical expository works, the type concerned with knowledge rather than action. The reader is instructed to ask questions, just as they did when analytically reading other expository works—however, there are variations to the questions and previous rules. Readers must continue to identify their current reads as well as come to terms with the author and their arguments (by first recognizing the special language of the author’s field).
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