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01.21.21 | Sage Advice®

Why You (And Everyone Else) Should Read More Poetry

Many of us discovered poetry during mandatory school courses and our relationship with the genre ended swiftly after, never to be revisited again over the years. There’s this common misconception that poetry is in inaccessible art form, that it has to be understood to be enjoyed. But poetry is like singing — you don’t have to be good at it to do it or to enjoy it. Put simply: it’s good for the soul. That’s why today, we’re making an argument for why you (and everyone else) should read more poetry.

Why Read Poetry?

First of all, poetry is easy to incorporate into your daily schedule. A single poem doesn’t ask much of your time or attention. One Huffington post article describes how easy it is to consume poetry by saying, “You can flip through a book of poetry and eat the poems like popcorn.” In fact, you can even have the delectable treat of poetry delivered to your email daily by the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-A-Day or Poetry Foundation’s Poem of the Day

Rather than being intimidated by the idea of interpreting poetry, let’s consider how many possibilities are offered in the act of interpretation. Poetry, as an abstract language, stretches our imagination and the boundaries of what words can do. It appeals to heart logic over brain logic. Poetry shakes off literal interpretations or concreteness… the idea that there is just one way of seeing. Mirroring this logic (or lack thereof), in most arguments on why you should read poetry, instead of choosing just one reason why, the arguments simply end on the open-ended question: “well, why not?”

The Impact of a Poem

Though, of course, poems can teach us new things and offer us a new perspective, much of the beauty lies in how a person uniquely relates to the poem. In the TEDTalk “What Happens When We Read Poetry” they purport that it is this reacting-to that makes poetry so meaningful: “Though a poem doesn’t make things happen, it happens — every time someone reads it. Rather than a static item printed on a page, a poem is an event that occurs with each new reader and with each new reading.”

Further exploring the idea of what happens when we read poetry, The Cut describes a study conducted in Germany where the bodily response to poetry was measured using a “goosecam” (which shows the movement of skin and arm hairs as people listen to poetry). Participants in the study were also told to press a button each time they got chills during the reading of a poem. 40% of participants physically showed goosebumps.

But even more, the neurological impacts (those not tracked by the goosecam, but by brain scans throughout the process) showed the impacts of the slow-building pleasure of listening to poetry. The study dubbed this phenomenon, the “pre-chill,” a sensation synonymous with the buildup and anticipation of unwrapping a chocolate candy bar. Before study participants ever pressed the button indicating they had been given chills by the poem, the pre-chill had already been occurring within them.

Poetry contributes to vibrant living. And the best part about poetry: there’s something for everyone. If one poem doesn’t stir pre-chills in your heart and goosebumps on your arms, the next one most likely will.

A hand writes the word poetry on a vibrant wall of graffiti
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11.19.20 | Sage Advice®

An Argument for the Antilibrary

Whether you’re an avid reader or the one-novel-a-year type, being surrounded by more books than you can read is good for you and leads to a more vibrant life. The desire to stockpile a library far beyond the limits of your reading speed is in fact so universal that there’s a word for it: tsundoku

The Japanese term is defined as the “stockpiling of books that will never be consumed.” Breaking the word down into its separate components: tsunde means to stack things, oku means to leave for a while and doku means to read. Those that “suffer” from tsundoku can’t help but pick up a few extra titles at a garage sale, or to browse the bookstore if they happen to stroll past. Having a specific word for it celebrates these tendencies and points out that hoarding books is not only fun, but good for the soul.

In fact, author and statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb takes the idea of tsundoku one step further. He advocates for building your own antilibrary, a term coined in his bestselling book The Black Swan. Before introducing the concept of antilibrary, Taleb reflects on the library of Italian writer Umberto Eco, which contained a staggering 30,000 tomes. It wasn’t Eco’s intention to ever read his entire library — in fact, he purported that the library served as a reminder of everything he didn’t (and wouldn’t ever) know. That constant reminder is what kept Eco not only humble, but also intellectually hungry and perpetually curious.

Inspired by Eco, Taleb introduces the antilibrary in The Black Swan by saying:

“A private library is not an ego-boosting appendage but a research tool. Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. The library should contain as much of what you do not know as your financial means, mortgage rates, and the currently tight real-estate market allows you to put there. You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you grow older, and the growing number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly. Indeed, the more you know, the larger the rows of unread books. Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary.”

Practicing a little tsundoku and building your own antilibrary serves to set a goal for yourself: to never stop seeking knowledge and growth. Like Eco, it can keep you humble, hungry and curious. So the next time you wonder whether you should buy another book that will end up just sitting on your bookshelf, the answer is yes, you should. 

A bookstore with cluttered stacks of books
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