Reading Aloud - an activity for grown-ups by Deborah Swift @swiftstory

Is there anyone else out there that reads whole books out loud to their adult partner? Is it really an activity for grown-ups?

Well, my partner and I have taken to doing this, and it is a great way to share a story. The tricky part is finding something you will both enjoy and are both willing to invest the time in, as reading aloud to someone else is much slower than solo reading, and it can take more than a month to finish the book. But the rewards for a writer are that you develop a sense of hearing how the story flows, and of finding out what sort of language really triggers the imagination. You become more aware of the sound and texture of the language, and less concerned with writerly devices. You also become much more aware of how historical words or terminology, or unpronounceable names can trip you up.

Reading it yourself is much more active than listening to a "talking book" as you have to make your own decisions on tone of voice, pauses, and dramatic interpretation. It improves fluency of reading, and the ability to listen and take in a story. It is also lovely to be read to by someone you know well, to be delighted by their characterisation and to delight them in return. It gives some shared memories and shared ideas about history, and something to discuss after each 'reading.' We have fond memories of scenes from the books we have read.

Choosing books that we both fancy reading leads to interesting discussions (dare I say arguments) in bookshops, whilst we pick our next choice. We rarely read kindle books because there's something nice about handing a physical book over, at a cliffhanger, and saying, gleefully' 'Your turn.'

We have had one disaster - we read one Booker winner which had rave reviews and it started out with us both loving the language. But unfortunately it seemed to be all writing and no substance, and very repetitive and dull when it was read aloud, and we had to force ourselves through gritted teeth to read to the end. Mind you, hating something is as much a bonding experience as loving it, when it's shared.

Often we will turn to our shared book instead of TV, as it can be picked up and put down at any time that suits us, and packed in the luggage when we go away.

Much more enjoyable than the Booker nominee (which will remain nameless) were Lindsay Clarke's two books about Troy, The War at Troy and Return from Troy which, despite their weight, were gripping, readable, and fun to read out loud. Once we had read the first, then we had to have the second, and it did not disappoint - a cast of gods, heroes and ordinary mortals against the seething background of the ancient world. Jealous gods throwing thunderbolts about led to hilarious use of our rather amateur acting skills, but good writing drags you in, no matter how ham our readings might be.

What works best for us are historical novels where the history does not outweigh the plot, and books where we have a chance to employ the voices of multiple characters. (Though I must admit we always have varying pronunciations of all the names ...)  We are both a little hooked on the ancient world of Greece and Rome, and can recommend The Bull from the Sea by Mary Renault. This was superb, and had us both in emotional knots by the end of the book. So much so that we were both really sad to see the last page. The prequel to that, The King must Die is also a great read for reading aloud. This year in a similar vein we have read Stephen Fry's two books Mythos and Heroes.

Books with short sections or chapters work particularly well, so we don't wear out our voices, though of course tea or wine add to the experience.

Over the past few years we have varied our diet by reading some light-hearted reads  such as The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson and one of our other reads this year was The Order of Time which coincidentally is discussed in the previous post by Antonia Senior.

Other books we've enjoyed reading aloud, and that might appeal to history fans are books about language, such as The Story of English in 100 Words, and The History of the World in Six Glasses (which includes the history of tea, beer etc.) As well as these, we've read books on our common interests in martial arts, crafts, philosophy and poetry. We've been doing this since 2010 and our most prolific reading year was 2012 where we read 11 books together. (apart from our own other reading). In 2016 we only read three, but we will beat that paltry record this year as we've already read three and its only April. But apparently we are not the only ones doing this -  reading aloud for adults is having a resurgence, here's another article about the benefits from The Guardian.

And here on Atlas Obscura, a humorous article about testing the 19th Century's favourite dating tactic - Reading Aloud. The  couples read Modern Painters by John Ruskin and the results of the experiment are fun to read. (even if not aloud!)

So - if there is anyone out there who can recommend suitable reading aloud books, it would be great to have some more suggestions. Do comment with yours!

Find me and my books on my website www.deborahswift.com

Emile Munier - Reading Lesson

Pictures from wikipedia

Terrifying Teachers by Tanya Landman

Things were different in my day.  Teachers were seriously scary creatures. They shouted, turned purple, threw chalk, whacked rulers over your knuckles.  It was a common occurrence for disruptive students to be sent to the headmaster for the cane or the slipper.  Corporal punishment was a perfectly acceptable way to maintain discipline.  (Of course, they weren’t all like that, but it’s the shouty violent ones I remember most clearly.)

When I was in what’s now called Year 6 I had a truly terrifying teacher.  She had a vast, jutting bosom, a towering beehive that tapered into a point and Catwoman style spiky glasses  (think Mrs.Ribble in Dav Pilkey’s Captain Underpants series). Her wardrobe consisted of nylon blouses and crimplene tunics so she crackled with static when she walked. She exuded hostility to children.  I remember one occasion when she literally washed a boy’s mouth out with soap and water because she’d heard him swearing. The sight of this tough, streetwise lad reduced to tears, foaming at the mouth and retching was something I’ll never forget.

I was petrified of her – so petrified that one day I ran away, out of the classroom, out of the school all the way home where I had to climb in through an open window because no one was at home.

Things have changed.  My own children have lovely teachers:  caring, nurturing, creative professionals who want their pupils to achieve their full potential and who go to enormous lengths to see it happen, but who also want the students in their care to be happy.

Yet when my youngest child started at the local secondary I realised with something of a jolt that both my boys had passed through the whole of primary school without ever once reading a whole book in class.  The focus of reading was on extracts and comprehension exercises. They rarely – if ever -  wrote a story or a poem.  If they did any ‘creative’ writing it was all recounts of things they’d done or seen.  I had two bright, articulate children who loved stories and yet Literacy was their least favourite subject.

And it wasn’t just them.  I recently did a talk at a primary school and mentioned Charlotte’s Web (as I often do).  To my delight, the children knew it.  But when I asked if the teacher had been able to read THAT bit aloud without choking or crying they cheerfully said, ‘Oh, we didn’t finish it.’  They’d just had an extract read to them. And then had to answer a list of comprehension questions.

Now it’s not the teachers’ fault of course – I’m well aware of that.  Yet I’m sad that this state of affairs exists because when I was a child every teacher I ever had read to us.  It was part of the school routine that – at the end of the day - for ten or twenty minutes a teacher would read aloud.  And, surprisingly, that seriously scary teacher read very well.  It was the one time of day when you could guarantee that the whole class was engaged and focussed.  Through her I  first encountered Emil and the Detectives, Elidor, Tom’s Midnight Garden  and other  wonderful classics.  The real world dissolved and the class was carried away to another time and place.

It was magical, and what’s more it made me realise that no one is all bad – that even the scariest of grown-ups could have redeeming features.  I still can’t forgive her for the soap and water incident, but I will always be grateful for those stories.