How to Start Reading Classic Books

Reading old books can be hard.

And while I disagree with the assertion that "classic" is just another word for an old book, many classics are indeed old. Classics are books that have stood the test of time. That means that the language, sentence structure, and cultural context will be different from what we modern readers are used to.

Even avid readers can struggle to read older books, especially during the more difficult periods of literature’s history. So, what can we do to improve our experience reading classic literature? Here are a few tips that have helped me and will hopefully help you.

Take your time

You think she's rushing through a book? No. Be like the turtle. Source: Sy Montgomery

The book isn’t going anywhere, there’s no need to hurry through it. Rushing through a book, especially one that’s difficult for you to read, is the fastest way to make reading feel like homework.

You should not feel stressed or pressured to finish a book, especially if it’s good. Find sentences you like and repeat them out loud. Google words and phrases you don’t understand. Don’t worry that these steps will slow you down: it’s better to have read one book well than five books poorly.

Talk about the book with others

Bring up the book in conversation with your friends, partner, or family. Tell them what you like about it or what you don’t. Try to explain the plot in your own words. Show them some of your favorite lines.

Many studies show that talking helps us process experiences and feelings that are otherwise difficult to deal with. This research has led to more discussion-based learning in the classroom and increased the popularity of talk therapy. The same principles apply when you’re trying to process a new book. Talking about the book with others will help you better understand themes that may be difficult to decipher without the extra processing power of conversation.

Think about plot first, then narrative 

James Joyce: A famous modernist writer known for his novel Ulysses. He wrote in a very distinct stream-of-consciousness style. Source: Monoskop

This tip is especially relevant for literature written from about 1890 to 1960. Much of the literature from this era is in a style scholars call “modern”. We may think it odd that the modern period ended 60 years ago, but modern in this sense is not talking about a time period. Instead, modern refers to the style in which these books were written.

Modernist texts by writers such as James Joyce and Virginia Woolf are famously difficult to decipher, with long, rambling paragraphs and confusing characters, but that doesn’t mean modernist books aren’t worth reading.

Instead, difficult texts give us a chance to practice a reading skill that we probably haven’t thought about since third grade and separate the plot (what’s actually happening in the book) from the narrative (how the plot is being explained). This helps us slow down and better understand the themes of the book instead of getting caught up in the weirdness of the language. You can do this by asking yourself these two questions: 

1. What’s happening here?

2. How does the narrator’s description of what’s happening change the meaning of the plot?

   
   

Question number one helps you get past a reading slump. Don’t be afraid to use SparkNotes or Wikipedia if you need help understanding the plot. Question two gets you thinking more deeply about the text. It helps you identify the feelings and prejudices of the characters, which leads to a deeper understanding of the book.

Practice

Here’s an example of how this process would work using a short story from Virginia Woolf called "Blue and Green". To practice along, follow this link! Try to figure out what’s happening, and then come back here to check your work!

Here's what I did:

I took my time reading

• I look up words I don’t know, such as “tarpaulin”: a heavy-duty waterproof cloth.

• I wonder what Virginia Woolf might mean by “the ten fingers of the lustre”. At first, I think of icicles hanging, dripping water. But then I’m confused—parakeets and camels don’t live in icy climates, do they? I decide to come back to this question. 

• Then I turn to the blue section. Who is this monster? His waterproof skin and scales make me think he is either an alligator or a crocodile. Since we’re in a world of camels and parakeets, I’m going to guess the monster is a crocodile. So far, so good.

  
  

I talked about the book with others

• I interrupt my husband while he’s doing the dishes. There is nothing he would love more than to discuss this short story with me. I read him some of the “ten fingers” suggestion and ask what he thinks it means. He suggests a chandelier or some kind of hanging glass. I express confusion at why there would be a chandelier in the desert. 

• We read the final line together: “but the cathedral’s different”. OH! Is there some kind of old church here? Some stained glass? I thought the landscape was completely deserted by mankind, but it seems like there are signs of life in this cathedral. My husband and I argue: is the cathedral literal or symbolic? We can’t decide.

  
  

I thought about plot first, then narrative 

Plot: What is actually happening in this story?

• Camels and parakeets frolic by a desert river during the day. Day turns to night, and a crocodile emerges from the water.

• I google the short story to see if I missed any plot. I didn’t. This is clearly not a plot driven story.

  
  

Narrative: How does Virginia Woolf explain the plot?

• She uses two colors, green and blue, and puts them in contrast with each other.

• I think about the feelings I associate with green and blue. The green section connects green with sharp things: “the pointed fingers of glass”, or the “sharp blades of palm trees”. The blue section seems less distinct. The monster’s nose is “snubbed”, meaning blunt, not sharp. His back is lined with “strokes of blue”. Everything seems to bleed into everything else, just as the blue of the monster’s scales stains “the rusty iron on the beach”. I’m not sure what this means yet, but I know that for some reason green = sharp and blue = blurred.

• I think about the order: green is overtaken by blue. Why did Virginia Woolf show nightfall instead of dawn? Perhaps there is something there that suggests that the blurry blue is more powerful than the sharp, clearly defined green. 

Virginia Woolf: Another famous modern writer who, similarly to Joyce, often wrote in a stream-of-consciousness style. This painting was done by her sister, Vanessa Bell. Source: National Trust Collections

Creating Meaning

Now I’m ready to think about what this short story might mean. Green life, clearly defined, is overtaken by shadowy night, with its indescribable monsters, shipwrecks, and melancholy cathedrals. I think Virginia Woolf is pointing us towards things that outlast us. She’s making us think about our humanity. Each reader has to ask themselves: Where do I fit into this green/blue picture? 

Something is awe-inspiring about the blue scene. It feels secret, like we’ve seen a world we weren’t meant to see. Reading can be like that, too. We’re thrown into a world that wasn’t made for us and asked to figure out what’s happening, what it all means. To make some meaning out of it. Perhaps that is the message, if there is one, of this short story: we are the ones who find meaning. It can’t be forced upon us.

I hope by following these steps, your experiences reading can be a little more meaningful. Reading, like anything else, takes practice. But taking that time can make the process of reading rewarding and profound. I'd love to see your own interpretations of Woolf's work!