This is a subject I've long wondered about. Why does memory fail us when we've loved a book? Or a film? What we remember is the impression it left on us, more than we remember the details of storylines, or dialogue or even images. Once interviewing Martin Scorsese to record the films he considered 'guilty pleasures' (there were hundreds!) I was horrified to realize that he remembered so many details about the films on his list, many from his childhood--films that I had also seen and loved, but from which I could at best remember only one scene, or one or two images. I think Scorsese is an exception. Even if we like a book or a film, we remember only those moments or images or stories that reach certain neural strings of our psyche, plucking those strings and recording the sound in our memory. There is much more to be said on the subject, but I'm glad you've brought it up, Philip!
As a re-re-reader but most emphatically not a note-taker, I found this very interesting - I had assumed that taking notes made books stay in the memory but evidently that's not necessarily the case. This makes me feel a bit less guilty about the many books I have devoured in the past and then instantly forgotten (sometimes to the point of picking them up again and only realising halfway through that I knew what was going to happen). I am a voracious speed-reader, the downside of which is that I sometimes miss bits. On the upside, it means that there is frequently something new to discover on a subsequent reading!
It starts as a baby/toddler/small child - being read the same books over and over again because you love familiarity and repetition (and as a parent too, I think I can still quote the whole of anything by Julia Donaldson, Bear Hunt, Penguin, Little Rabbit Foo-Foo and a lot of Beatrix Potter too). And as an older child, probably because you don't have an endless well to dip into because of funds or because you can't go to the library as often as you need. And then you have the habit of it and as an adult there are those books you have read one, twice, 10 times, some, I think over 30 times. For comfort mainly (and audiobooks as a form of rereading too is an absolute joy - for me, all of Patrick O'Brian, especially), but as you get older, for recall. I am in a book group and they are always amazed at my capacity to retain detail - but it is only because most of the books chosen are things I've already read so I reread to remember. Then it sticks. Ask me about a book I read 2 months ago, once, and unless it was particularly original, I won't be able to tell you a thing. I love the recall though, as it promotes thought - I love my mind drifting back to a book I have read.
This was a fantastic article, one in which really hits home for me. As I get older I've noticed that my memory retention has eroded. I've also made notebooks of all the books I've read, well at least for the last 20 years or so, and perusing it I've come across multiple books that I actually have no memory whatsoever of having read. It can be sad and distressing, just another of life's small reminders of the limited time we have. I like the idea of leaving notes giving descriptions of your feelings of the book in question. Montaigne, the French essayist, used to leave similar notes at the end of his books to remind himself of his thoughts on that book. Apparently he also had problems remembering. The whimsical part of me likes to imagine that every time a read a book it's subconsciously seeps into me, so even if I don't remember it it's still contributed somehow to either my happiness, knowledge, or enjoyment, at least for the time that it took to read that particular work. For much of my life I reread many of my books, often going back to them as comfort reads. It was interesting to see how they hit different as I was at a different place in my life. Lately, however, I've realized there are so many great books that I haven't read yet that I want to get to, so I've really curtailed my rereading. I pretty much limit it to some of my all-time favorites, and every October I reread three Ray Bradbury novels as a sort of tradition. Thank you again for the wonderful article, it was splendid. One final note, I read the Age of Innocence for the first time this last summer and was deeply affected by it.
Great essay! And isn’t it great that all children today know Homer?! 😏 But in all seriousness, in our contemporary condition of content coming at us through a fire hose, the dilemma is between choosing to read fine new content such as yours or conduct thoughtful rereadings of works that, for personal reasons, call us back. And this is to say nothing of the books that, siren like, call to us from the past singing “🎵You cannot be complete, you cannot know the world until you read meee…🎵I understand we all must make choices but until there is that metric 100 hour day from the early SNL skit featuring Dan Aykroyd something’s got to give. I’d sure hate for one of those somethings to be an essay by Philip Womack.
This is a subject I've long wondered about. Why does memory fail us when we've loved a book? Or a film? What we remember is the impression it left on us, more than we remember the details of storylines, or dialogue or even images. Once interviewing Martin Scorsese to record the films he considered 'guilty pleasures' (there were hundreds!) I was horrified to realize that he remembered so many details about the films on his list, many from his childhood--films that I had also seen and loved, but from which I could at best remember only one scene, or one or two images. I think Scorsese is an exception. Even if we like a book or a film, we remember only those moments or images or stories that reach certain neural strings of our psyche, plucking those strings and recording the sound in our memory. There is much more to be said on the subject, but I'm glad you've brought it up, Philip!
Thank you, that’s fascinating!
As a re-re-reader but most emphatically not a note-taker, I found this very interesting - I had assumed that taking notes made books stay in the memory but evidently that's not necessarily the case. This makes me feel a bit less guilty about the many books I have devoured in the past and then instantly forgotten (sometimes to the point of picking them up again and only realising halfway through that I knew what was going to happen). I am a voracious speed-reader, the downside of which is that I sometimes miss bits. On the upside, it means that there is frequently something new to discover on a subsequent reading!
Lovely reflections :) Thanks, Philip
Thought provoking, Philip.
It starts as a baby/toddler/small child - being read the same books over and over again because you love familiarity and repetition (and as a parent too, I think I can still quote the whole of anything by Julia Donaldson, Bear Hunt, Penguin, Little Rabbit Foo-Foo and a lot of Beatrix Potter too). And as an older child, probably because you don't have an endless well to dip into because of funds or because you can't go to the library as often as you need. And then you have the habit of it and as an adult there are those books you have read one, twice, 10 times, some, I think over 30 times. For comfort mainly (and audiobooks as a form of rereading too is an absolute joy - for me, all of Patrick O'Brian, especially), but as you get older, for recall. I am in a book group and they are always amazed at my capacity to retain detail - but it is only because most of the books chosen are things I've already read so I reread to remember. Then it sticks. Ask me about a book I read 2 months ago, once, and unless it was particularly original, I won't be able to tell you a thing. I love the recall though, as it promotes thought - I love my mind drifting back to a book I have read.
This was a fantastic article, one in which really hits home for me. As I get older I've noticed that my memory retention has eroded. I've also made notebooks of all the books I've read, well at least for the last 20 years or so, and perusing it I've come across multiple books that I actually have no memory whatsoever of having read. It can be sad and distressing, just another of life's small reminders of the limited time we have. I like the idea of leaving notes giving descriptions of your feelings of the book in question. Montaigne, the French essayist, used to leave similar notes at the end of his books to remind himself of his thoughts on that book. Apparently he also had problems remembering. The whimsical part of me likes to imagine that every time a read a book it's subconsciously seeps into me, so even if I don't remember it it's still contributed somehow to either my happiness, knowledge, or enjoyment, at least for the time that it took to read that particular work. For much of my life I reread many of my books, often going back to them as comfort reads. It was interesting to see how they hit different as I was at a different place in my life. Lately, however, I've realized there are so many great books that I haven't read yet that I want to get to, so I've really curtailed my rereading. I pretty much limit it to some of my all-time favorites, and every October I reread three Ray Bradbury novels as a sort of tradition. Thank you again for the wonderful article, it was splendid. One final note, I read the Age of Innocence for the first time this last summer and was deeply affected by it.
Loved this. Re-reading one of the greatest pleasures.
Great essay! And isn’t it great that all children today know Homer?! 😏 But in all seriousness, in our contemporary condition of content coming at us through a fire hose, the dilemma is between choosing to read fine new content such as yours or conduct thoughtful rereadings of works that, for personal reasons, call us back. And this is to say nothing of the books that, siren like, call to us from the past singing “🎵You cannot be complete, you cannot know the world until you read meee…🎵I understand we all must make choices but until there is that metric 100 hour day from the early SNL skit featuring Dan Aykroyd something’s got to give. I’d sure hate for one of those somethings to be an essay by Philip Womack.
I enjoyed this post very much too.
There was much I related to as a fellow log keeper.
Thank you
Hello, Philip, thank you for this post. I enjoyed every word of it.
Thank you for your message, I’m so pleased!
'Home' is your last word. Perhaps that's the answer to the question in the subtitle.