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Originally Posted by Alphapheemail
Ok so all points considered...
I see the joy that reading showers the reader with, and the art form, and the significance to one's intelligence, and the plethora of other forms of escapism.
But I still can't shake off this feeling that I can't handle life. That I'm too weak so I need to escape... maybe it's true. And so what! I think I'd rather escape in the tale of a brave 6 y.o. than drugs or the search for Paris' new BFF, both of which will eventually damage my capacity to absorb said tale. So one thing is for sure, if i plunged into drugs/Paris's enthralling life the same way i plunge into books I would certainly not be talking to you guys right now. ( Sorry I am thinking in typing form, and I may have answered my own question, but I'd still like to know what you guys think!)
Then I start thinking of the ancient Greeks and what would be their form of escapism, and I think that was how philosophy and mathematics came about. People trying to find something to do other than thinking about the mundane and boring.
Thoughts?
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The ancient Greeks went to the theater and watched plays. That was their form of escapism. Or they listened to the local bard singing stories in iambic hexameter. Every culture has its fiction, its stories. Telling stories is an integral part of being human, and it can only enrich our existence.
I've been thinking about this issue quite a lot, and I do think there is a difference between reading for pleasure and reading for escape - just like there is a difference between eating normally and binge-eating, or between gambling for fun and pathological gambling. If you are performing an activity in order to enrich your life, it's quite different from performing the activity compulsively because your real life is too unpleasant to tolerate.
For me, the two types of reading feel different; when I read for pleasure, I think about the book. When I read for escape, I don't think about anything - I just get caught up in the story and forget everything else.