Reading Actively

Mortimer J Adler

I’m not sure if it’s weird to have a favorite essay, but mine has been “How to Mark a Book” by Mortimer J. Adler since I first read it in 9th grade. I had a high school English teacher who had a genius way of pushing his students to understand and analyze what they read without them ever knowing. I remember the first time I ever made a real connection in a book. It was in my 9th grade English class and we had just finished reading Falkner’s As I Lay Dying. I struggled to get through the book, as many people do, getting lost in the ambiguous sentences and strange perspective-shifting structure. The day after we finished reading, my teacher assigned our class to read Adler’s essay. His aim was to teach us the importance of reading actively. He explained to the class that we could simply go through the rest of high school reading and writing without ever understanding what we read. The gravity of the books we read and their significance in our own life would never been fully realized unless we learned to read actively. Adler writes:

 There are two ways in which one can own a book. The first is the property right you establish by paying for it, just as you pay for clothes and furniture. But this act of purchase is only the prelude to possession. Full ownership comes only when you have made it a part of yourself, and the best way to make yourself a part of it is by writing in it…I am arguing that books, too, must be absorbed in your bloodstream to do you any good.

Like my teacher, Adler wanted to impress upon his readers that there is nothing delicate about a book. A book is a living and breathing creature that changes every time you open it. You cannot have full ownership over anything until you make it your own, and books are no exception.

 After reading this essay, my teacher assigned the class to read As I Lay Dying again. He said that he would be checking for book notes every day until we finished the book and that he expected to see colors, scratches, doodles, notes, lists, underlines and circles. We all complied, unaware of the gift he was giving us with this assignment.

 It only took me about 50 pages to realize how powerful Adler’s advice was. By marking and draining my brain onto the page I was able to make connections that I had completely missed the first time.

 Adler wrote, “marking up a book is not an act of mutilation but of love.” I want to challenge all of you to make this act of love. You will enrich not only your own experience as a reader, but you will give your books the attention that they deserve.


Eleanor Haeg is an English major and Creative Writing minor at Washington and Lee but hails from Minneapolis.

English Major Phobia

college-diploma

When I came to Washington and Lee, I had every intention of being a Biology major andgoing to medical school after I graduated. Itonly took me a month of Genetics class to realize that medicine wasn’t for me, but it took me a year and a half to actually let go of my plan. I call it a plan for a reason. Going to med school was never a dream or an aspiration. It was a plan with a definitive end and what I imagined to be guaranteed success—career and happiness were completely separate identities, not to be mixed or confused.

I have been a writer since I got my first journal on my fifth birthday. It has always been my source of laughter and relief, and it has remained the steadiest part of my life since that day. The journal was pink and had a princess crown on the lock. I mostly drew pictures of my mom and brother, but sometimes I managed to write a sentence or two. One of my favorite entries was about my brother: “Otto peed on the flor today. Mom is made.” But even after keeping a journal for almost fifteen years,  I couldn’t find the courage to drop Biology and pursue an English major—something that wouldn’t give me a definite career path. So I stuck with my plan and pursued science, but I wasn’t doing well and I wasn’t happy.

Although I knew English was the right thing for me, I was afraid of venturing outside of what I viewed as a “successful career path.” Growing up, I always saw men and women in nice suits, going into their office buildings downtown and leaving late at night in their fancy cars. Being anything other than that was the most terrifying thought in the world. However, at a certain point I had to put my happiness first, and I switched my major to English—likely the best decision I have ever made.

Looking back on all the hours that I spent doing work that I didn’t enjoy and failing classes that I couldn’t even appreciate, I feel inclined to wonder why we place so much emphasis on certain types of success. There are hundreds of different factors that contribute to our desire for career success: the limited job market, the influence of the media, and the competition that comes along with today’s materialistic society. Ultimately though, I think it comes down to human nature. We are genetically hardwired to sacrifice anything and everything to ensure the livelihood of our offspring and ourselves—but does this mean we can’t do what we love? I still don’t know what being an English major is going to lead to for me, but I know that it is going to give me more opportunities for happiness than anything else, and right now, that’s all I’m looking for.


Eleanor Haeg is an English major and Creative Writing minor at Washington and Lee but hails from Minneapolis.