By Clay Thompson | Arts & Life Intern
Being an established nerd, geek, dork and bookworm all my life, I used to pride myself on the fact that “I can read much better than you can.” Even if athletes had sports and popularity — or prettier and cooler people than myself had things going for them — I could revel in knowing that I was superior in my academic and literary reading prowess.
So as you can imagine, I was mortified when I learned about the concept of audiobooks. Novels and stories that could be read out loud, and all the slackers in school could keep up with class reading with me?! I was embarrassed, and I was angry.
I think the biggest thing I felt at the time but would never admit to myself was that I felt threatened. To me, reading seemed to be the only skill or talent I had that set me apart in school, and now that skill could be replaced or replicated. I felt worthless and obsolete — two feelings I definitely did not enjoy.
I made sure to bring up as often and as publicly as possible that reading visually was the truly superior way to read in order to make myself feel better. I wasn’t trying to make people who didn’t read or couldn’t read as well feel bad; I just wanted to make myself feel better, but I’m sure that all my talk and rhetoric was hurtful to some.
Graduating high school and starting college in the year of COVID-19 really gave me some great perspective. Since most people could not go out to libraries or the bookstore, I was practically forced to read new books electronically. Then, I tried out audiobooks.
As quarantine went on, I found myself enjoying listening to audiobooks as I walked around my house, did chores or even studied and did school online.
It happened one day, and for the life of me, I can’t remember why or how. I think it was just one of those random thoughts that pops into your head without a specific trigger or reason why, but there it was: the thought, or rather the realization, that I’d been wrong for so many years.
Using audiobooks was just the same kind of reading as doing so visually. After all, audiobooks are a valuable resource for those who are blind or perhaps for people who learn better audibly than visually. In my previous perspective, I had never really considered that some people were better at learning using a different sense; however, after seeing firsthand evidence of it during lockdowns and my freshman year of college, I could no longer deny it.
And I was happy to accept it. What did it matter why people were using audiobooks, as long as they were reading? Who was I to judge the quality of the concept of reading? Even if slackers in my grade school years were using them to get out of what they considered tedious visual reading, as long as they were absorbing and hopefully appreciating the material, why did it matter how they were getting it?
I think too many people are afraid to admit when they’re wrong. I know I was for the longest time, but admitting you are wrong about something is actually a courageous and admirable thing. It shows that pride does not control you and that you have an open mind.
In my case, my feelings of insecurity and worthlessness were based on stupid school vapidity. Once I learned to let go of trivial things like popularity and self-worth steeped in vanity, I was able to appreciate a truly valuable medium of media that can stimulate minds both young and old.
