Reading as a Way of Thinking

3,619 characters2007.11.10

This piece was prepared for another column in *Gongqingyuan*, and it can also be regarded as a continuation of the previous essay, “Me and Philosophy.”

In “Me and Philosophy,” I wanted to say that I have chosen to live the life of a philosopher—that is, to confront those “big questions” with persistence rather than evade them or deceive myself. But how is such a life possible?

At least for me, this way of life as I understand it does not mean brooding day after day in deep contemplation, standing in the posture of a “thinker,” pondering problems without a moment’s pause. If it were like that, it would be far too painful.

In fact, the state of quietly thinking by oneself is also very rare in my life. At most, I only occasionally do some random independent thinking while riding a bike on the way somewhere, or when I cannot fall asleep at night. And often, whatever I may have thought of is forgotten once I have slept, and I do not much care.

My more frequent, more important kind of “thinking” needs to rely on reading or writing as a means.

Reading is a means of stirring thoughts and sparking inspiration, while writing is a means of sorting out one’s ideas and clarifying one’s views. Philosophy, fundamentally speaking, is only an activity of thinking and questioning, but reading and writing are its irreplaceable means.

Some people may say: “Before Yao and Shun, what books were there to read?” Thus reading is optional; one can think without reading as well. But for most people, thinking without reading can probably only remain at the most superficial level. Among modern great philosophers, the one who read the classics the least was probably Wittgenstein. But such a once-in-the-world genius is after all extremely rare, and Wittgenstein’s state of life seems to have been full of pain.

Whether it is superficial or not is actually secondary; the key point is that thinking in the manner of reading is pleasurable. So-called deep brooding—the thinking of such a person is inevitably painful, helpless. Through thinking and questioning, you may fall into an even more serious state of bewilderment, confusion, and anxiety; this is something I mentioned in my previous article. But reading is different. At least when reading, I no longer feel so agitated, helpless, and utterly unsupported. Because reading is communication with the author: whether they are those immortal philosophers, or even works that are only second- or third-rate; whether they arouse resonance in me, or make me resist and push back; in any case, when reading, I discover that I am not alone after all.

Of course, talking with friends around me is also a pleasurable way of thinking. However, friends who are willing to discuss those annoying big questions in life are after all few and far between, and everyone’s concerns and lines of thought are vastly different. Among the countless philosophers and other writers from ancient times to the present, you can find every possible standpoint or line of reasoning; in philosophy, every viewpoint and its opposite will have its advocates. In short, through books I can always find comrades and opponents, and they accompany me in thinking.

Furthermore, reading the immortal works of the great philosophers is itself an extremely challenging and exhilarating activity, as I already mentioned at that roundtable discussion.

At the same time, even reading the works of second- or third-rate authors is not always a waste of time. Besides strengthening my confidence, I can also think about why these works are bad. Where do they fall short? If I were to offer a critique or instruction, or simply discuss the same topic myself, what could I say?

In short, as long as one is reading, and thinking through it, it is always pleasant, or exhilarating.

November 10, 2007