Shallow and Deep Reading

What to Read to What Depth

Reading are hard, particularly when the written is clearly suboptimal in construthction or dealing with complicated subject matter. This tendency is, in fact, most severe in matters of philosophy or metaphysics, where the crux of the matter is in elucidating the incredible complexity of navigating a consistent logical thread through the eye of the empirical needle. This naturally leads to the blowing out of sentences, the use of precise verbiage in a vain attempt to abbreviate statements, and endlessly running-on sentences that fail to encapsulate the heart of the matter, or if they do, hide it as the proverbial needle in a haystack of letters and punctuation.

“Nah.” I say. “Whatever you say, just say it.”

Recently, my co-contributor WhyNotThink popped out a piece on how one reads and writes, right after I wrote the big one on Epicurus. On that, I have a confession to make.

I hate reading philosophy.

I truly hate it. Epicurus and Mr. Strodach write long sentences that almost seem like they’re trying to beat the message into my skull through long-windedness and repetition. As if hitting me with a bigger stick of letters would help me learn. Some quotes, first from Mr. Strodach:

… there are plenty of people throughout the world today who attribute cancer and other diseases, hurricanes, droughts, floods, and other natural disasters to the machinations of an inscrutable god who has his own plans for us miserable men. Such people, and they are counted in the millions, lead lives of fear and propagate a vulgar religion of fear. The Epicurean devil, of course, was and is popular religion with its massive ignorance and superstition. The Epicurean savior today would be the humanitarian scientist, who would tell us that cancer is not divinely sent but naturally caused, even though he does not yet know its precise cause. With the Epicureans it was never science for the sake of science but always science for the sake of human happiness.

Translation:

Epicurus claims people are miserable because they do not truly understand life, thanks to fear, ignorance, and superstition, often spawned by popular religion. He then goes on to say people would be happier if they believed in scientists who aren’t afraid to say they don’t know - and that that happiness is the goal of science.

See? So much easier. Let’s do one of Epicurus:

In addition to all these general considerations we must realize that the most important types of spiritual confusion consist (1) in men’s believing that the heavenly bodies are themselves blessed and immortal and at the same time have wills, activities and motives that are contrary to such properties; (2) in their constantly anticipating or imagining some frightful everlasting fate, like those in the myths of hell, or dreading the loss of sensation at the time of death as though this were relevant to “themselves”; and (3) in undergoing all this suffering not as a result of rational judgment but because of some irrational drive (and by not setting limits to mental suffering, they consequently experience turmoil equal to or more intense than they would if they rationally entertained such beliefs). But mental serenity means achieving release from all such fears and keeping the most important general principles constantly in mind.

Let’s boil it down:

Epicurus claims that anxiety exists because of human belief in (1) blessed and immortal gods that act against their nature, (2) worrying about life after death as if they will be there for it, and (3) holding on to these irrational beliefs for whatever reason. Release from all such fears comes from understanding his general principles [determinism, materialism, etc.].

Even when he’s being pithy it’s awkward:

There is no advantage in gaining security with regard to other people if phenomena occurring above and beneath the earth – in a word, everything in the infinite universe – are objects of anxiety.

could just be:

If you’re not sure about the very laws of the universe, worrying about other people is the least of your problems.

I read the whole iceberg to give you the part that’s above water.

Why philosophers can’t write like this probably boils down to their business model. Like it or not, the philosopher’s value is a precarious thing. The value of a philosopher is in the questions they can ask and answer - therefore, once the answer is reached, the philosopher is superfluous. So they write the longest sentences and the most verbose questions and answers, in my mind, partly in order to conceal what they actually mean, so that they have to be paid to interpret it. Rather than selling the answer (which is a commodity once plainly spoken), they sell the definition of the question and the interpretation of the answer (something on which they and their disciples have a monopoly).

An additional layer to this is that there can be multiple philosophers with similar questions and problems. There is a constant incentive for philosophers to undercut one another or prove that their product is superior. Hence the constant politicking and attempting to prove others as illogical, irrational, or inconsistent between philosophers. A logical, rational, and consistent argument is a sign that you are getting the answer you want, rather than the ramblings of a philosopher who you’ll be tied to.

Going further, there is also the threat of argument from politics. Direct attacks on your enemies or deliberately making inconsistent arguments to make your product palatable is also fair game. As reported in my preceding article on Epicurus, Strodach notes the atomic swerve and inconsistent application of multiple-cause and single-cause to effect across Epicurean physics as inconsistent with the principles, yet adhered to in opposition to rival schools at the time, or to support free will against the will of the gods. No doubt you can think of many examples of philosophers that go back on themselves.

The prescription for this is usually deep reading - knowing the subject, the context, and the vocabulary of the time to get a more nuanced view of how things were done and their meaning. But we’re professional amateurs here, and only dabbling, so we don’t have time for this. What then, do we do? How do we get “close enough” without having to sift through all this bullshit?

I’m an advocate for reading shallow.

Shallow Reading

Shallow reading is just taking things at face value, piece by piece. Your goal is to read only the most important information first so you have a framework. Going back tothe iceberg - we find the tip so that we know where to start looking for it below the water. Let us take as an example, this paragraph from Marcus Aurelius provided for us by my collaborator, WhyNotThink:

13. In my father I observed mildness of temper, and unchangeable resolution in the things which he had determined after due deliberation; and no vainglory in those things which men call honors; and a love of labor and perseverance; and a readiness to listen to those who had anything to propose for the common weal; and undeviating firmness in giving to every man according to his deserts; and a knowledge derived from experience of the occasions for vigorous action or for remission. And I observed that he considered himself no more than any other citizen; and he released his friends from all obligation to sup with him or to attend him of necessity when he went abroad, and those who had failed to accompany him, by reason of any urgent circumstances, always found him the same. I observed too his habit of careful inquiry in all matters of deliberation, and his persistence, and that he never stopped his investigation through being satisfied with appearances which first present themselves; and that his disposition was to keep his friends, and not to be soon tired of them, nor yet to be extravagant in his affection; and to be satisfied on all occasions, and cheerful; and to foresee things a long way off, and to provide for the smallest without display; and to check immediately popular applause and all flattery; and to be ever watchful over the things which were necessary for the administration of the empire, and to be a good manager of the expenditure, and patiently to endure the blame which he got for such conduct; and he was neither superstitious with respect to the gods, nor did he court men by gifts or by trying to please them, or by flattering the populace; but he showed sobriety in all things and firmness, and never any mean thoughts or action, nor love of novelty.

For your first reading, once you read a complete sentence, skip the rest of the sentence and move on to the next one. Ignore any supporting information and focus only on the core of the sentences, as below:

In my father I observed mildness of temper. I observed that he considered himself no more than any other citizen. I observed too his habit of careful inquiry in all matters of deliberation. My father was a mild-tempered, humble, and prudent man.

Since anyone making an argument wants to make it logical, premises you find in this way are usually not contradicted. Take this premise and read the paragraph from the beginning, and the details will be easier to absorb. Like watching a movie a second time, it’s a lot easier to notice details when you already know what’s happening.

When applied to textbook readings or learning something, this technique can be applied somewhat differently. Given a specific chapter or section, scan it first to understand the framework, then read to fill out specific parts until you understand the whole thing. What is most important is to understand the structure of the argument, before going to the specifics.

There are times, however, when there is little to grab onto because the writer has pre-chewed the words for you or intentionally used dissonance, leaving you with little to work with. Fiction loves to do this - for example, in my story The Eyre Affair, you get an exchange like this:

“Mr. Morgan, Ms. Shirley Eyre is here for you.” Milicent says. “She wants to discuss her father’s estate.”

“Buzz her in.” I reply. The buzzard.

“She’s on her way.” Milicent replied matter-of-factly, just as my doorknob turned and the attached door swung open, to reveal a tall woman in high heels. Ms. Shirley Eyre is a well-dressed urbanite in a sharp blazer and a pair of slacks, fresh from her flight from San Francisco. I rose to meet her as she approached my desk, offering a handshake.

“Mr. Morgan, I’m Shirley Eyre, daughter of Mr. Eyre.” She says, offering a handshake, which I accept.

“Have a seat, Ms. Eyre. Can Milicent or I get you anything?” I ask, her handshake surprisingly firm, almost hard, before she takes a seat and I do the same.

“No thanks.” She says. “I don’t plan on staying long.” She sits and fixes me with a look.

Taking it at face value, all she’s done is come into the room and shake my hand. It is in the details that the meaning of the sequence is hidden, which requires a deeper reading.

Deep Reading

Unlike philosophy, which advances an argument, fiction is usually about placing people in a situation. Rather than plainly telling people about a situation or sequence of events, the goal is to describe it, adding detail that illuminates the situation, which must be details that you would notice at the time (especially when writing in the first person). The tip does not tell you what the shape of the whole iceberg is, so you have to go down and look at it. Something like this, for example, is just fine:

“How are you doing?” I ask my friend, their chin cupped in both hands, wrists bent above elbows on their knees, staring straight ahead.

“Just fine.” They huff, with a puff of white smoke.

“Sure you are.” I snort, sliding up to them on the cold bench. “Wanna get a coffee?”

On a face level, it looks like the friend is doing fine, my description and reaction blatantly contradict this thesis. Taking those details into account, you naturally read it like this: my friend is having a bum day, and I want to cheer them up. It calls to mind moments where you likely did this as well, picked up on someone in a sulk and moved to comfort them. Even if they try to push you away, you know that’s not what they need.

This is not an argument - not a simplification and a rationalization of a complex phenomenon. This is an attempt to describe real life as it is. It must be consumed whole, warts and all, in order to understand the layers of subtext that are hopefully there.

Non-Fiction Shallow, Fiction Deep

Arguments are statements generalized away from their context.

Stories are crystallized experiences contexted away from generic narratives.

Arguments should be read shallow, because they are built to be consistent. Get a small hold of it, and you can expand your understanding.

Stories should be read deep, because things cannot be omitted to make them consistent. Small details can contradict the rest of the narrative, making understanding difficult.

Arguments are products of logic that attempt to mimic life.

Stories are products of life that we attempt to string together with logic.

Arguments are about using the tip to find the iceberg.

Stories are discovering that the iceberg is a lot bigger under the water than it is above.

Arguments are best consumed a few sips at a time.

Stories should be chugged like a beer tower.

On Isms

Philosophies and logical framework are most often bundled into bunches of thought, usually with a word ending with “-ism” used as a label for them. Here’s a grab bag of Isms.

Barbarism. Racism. Realism. Optimism. Pessimism. Nihilism. Postivism. Capitalism. Communism. Nationalism. Globalism. Libertarianism. Authoritarianism. Pragmatism. Idealism. Pastafarianism. Anti-disestablishmentarianism. One or more, or even all of these Isms is probably familiar to you. You might even have strong feelings about them, one way or another. All of these Isms claim to have principles that will help you live a good life, a better life than before they came into your life. Somehow, though, despite us having more Isms than ever, clarity still seems to be in short supply.

Well, what is an Ism, anyway? Let’s look at some definitions and look for common factors.

Capitalism - an economic and political system in which property, business, and industry are controlled by private owners rather than by the state, with the purpose of making a profit.

Note that this is not just a belief or an idea, but a general economic and political system, two fields that stretch to nearly every facet of life.

Socialism - the set of beliefs that states that all people are equal and should share equally in a country's money, or the political systems based on these beliefs

Though called a set of beliefs, once again the same, a general prescription of a political solution (systems of redistribution) to an economic problem (inequality)

Pessimism emphasizing or thinking of the bad part of a situation rather than the good part, or the feeling that bad things are more likely to happen than good things

A general rule to emphasize the bad over the good in all things.

Optimism - the quality of being full of hope and emphasizing the good parts of a situation, or a belief that something good will happen

A general rule to emphasize the good over the bad in all things.

Pragmatism - the quality of dealing with a problem in a sensible way that suits the conditions that really exist, rather than following fixed theories, ideas, or rules

A general rule to do what you have to to get things done. Contrasted neatly by the definition below.

Idealism - the belief that your ideals can be achieved, often when this does not seem likely to others

A general rule to work towards your ideals, even if you don’t end up profiting from them. Opposed by the definition above.

Pastafarianism – belief in the Flying Spaghetti Monster and adherence to his teachings.

A general rule that you will not act against the teachings of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Isms seem to have one key thing in common – they are general principles that govern your way of life. Rather than being methods of understanding the world, it is better to think of them as Organizing Principles – bundles of assumptions and simple rules that form a framework for a shared body of thought. We need these because real life is complicated, and in order to make reasonably correct decisions in a timely manner, we use Organizing Principles. For a fuller discussion of Organizing Principles, see here:

https://open.substack.com/pub/argomend/p/the-totalitarian-organizing-principle?r=28g8km&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

The problem with this, of course, is that rules cannot perfectly capture the complexity of reality. Any individual Ism, taken too seriously, can, and likely will, take over your life, and will use you rather than be used by you. Rather than becoming guides for your life, they become rails that restrict you from taking other perspectives.

Most of the time, this isn’t a bad thing. Organizing Principles focus and direct one’s efforts, reducing the scope of today’s problems so that you can come up with a solution for them tomorrow (or in a timely manner). They allow us to focus on particular aspects of the problem – the optimists and idealists on how much better things could be, the pessimists and pragmatists on what could go wrong and how to get there. Capitalists will make the money that socialists then redistribute. Nationalists build up strong nations that participate in the globalist sphere. The issues come when one or another understanding begins to dominate, shutting out other possible principles from contributing to the discussion.

Don’t do this. When confronted with Isms, read shallow, keep all sorts of different principles in mind, and let them fight. You are human - both material and spiritual, logical and emotional. No one Ism will lead you to happiness alone.

When confronted with descriptions - stories, experiences, life, not yet shorn of the complicating context that makes it what it is - the opposite approach is recommended. Take every detail into consideration, and only when you have determined what is important and what is not do you boil down your decision. You only have one life, so drink deeply of it!