How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read by Pierre Bayard (2009)

Thank you, Pierre Bayard, for saying what we're all thinking. Bayard is being cute with his winking title, as well as setting his sights squarely upon the mass market, but he touches on some highly legitimate critical issues--no, you know, more than that, there's the material here for not only a real critical exegesis, but a social manifesto of reading.

Basically, the concept is, we privilege, aspire to, cover up the absence of, the read text--the object in isolation, read cover to cover, understood and digested--and only then contextualized. The notion of text as discernable cultural artifact, as existing outside the reader, the utility of authorial intent, all these trad-crit shibboleths, he wads up and sets afire with fun cod-Derrideanism, and good on him.

But the book's real revolutionary impact, or rather the revolutionary idea to which Bayard refuses to give full weight and a serious treatment, is simply: the more you care about literature, the less you should read. Or formulated less absurdly: reading is subject to the law of diminishing returns. Become familiar with a book, by all means; as concept, narrative, cultural moment. Read it, if you can spare the time, or just go on cultural osmosis and Baz Luhrmann's movie. But really: every moment spent puzzling through Ulysses is a moment that could be spent discussing Ulysses, or putting it in context, and the difference between a casual skim (ultimately, the aforesaid manifesto is one of skimming) and a deep semesterlong exegesis of Ulysses is the time that could be spent reading through, well, the complete works of James Joyce extra-Ulysses, or . . . you know, other shit. Is the real reader a fox or a hedgehog? Cearly a fox--one who wants to read and feel and be as many things as possible. ( )

A French professor of literature, Bayard expounds on his theory, using literary examples, that reading a book is wholly unnecessary to create and participate in dialogue about it. Academic in tone, the book provides a point of view that counters accepted wisdom. Students of literary theory and criticism may choose to argue with Bayard's interpretation of the interaction between book, reader and community, but this is a book worth discussing-- whether you've read it or not. ( )

It is sorely tempting to review an imaginary humourous gift book here; a sort of Bluffers Guide to Reading because Bayard's thesis is that many conversations about books are dialogues of the deaf. He postulates that we operate within three 'libraries': the virtual, the inner, and the collective. The collective is the true intersection of the inner libraries of the participants in a discussion whereas the virtual is the stated or implied intersection. Furthermore, the contents of our inner library is a fluid mixture of fluid constructs. Our memories and perceptions of each book are in constant flux. This has a profound effect on our attitude to reading and to the discussion of books.

All of this is explored in a series of essays in which a specific book about books is both the subject and object. Eco's post-modern Name of the Rose is likely to be widely familar to an anglophone reader but most of the references are to French works. Bayard is so punctilious about his descriptions of each work that the reader need feel no discomfort at any ignorance even though, by his own account, the author is as unreliable as any narrator.

I picked this up intending to give it a quick skim but I found myself devouring every word. And in so doing I undermine part of Bayard's structure: He has no abbreviation for close reading; the best that I can offer is HB and SB++. ( )

The best part of this book was the cover. It was an quick read, but apparently I do not share the humor or supposed wittiness of the author. The only chapter I gleaned anything from was iii; Books You Have Heard Of which discussed Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose. I had actual heard of this book and so it was interesting, easy to relate to and not above me. I felt like the reason I didn't get this book was because the author was French and so his frame of reference was way different than mine. ( )