Essay

To Listen, Perchance to Read

by Ellen Shenk

When we talk about "reading" a book, we might picture ourselves curled up in front of a roaring fire or stretched out on a beach, thumbing through a book that we hold in our hands. But how often do we visualize ourselves listening to a book on tape? Previously the province of individuals who had a visual or learning disability, listening to books on tape is becoming an increasingly popular phenomenon in a time when new, more advanced electronic technologies are exploding all around us.

The popularity of audio books owes a lot to the invention of cassette tapes, the Walkman®, and the car cassette player. Before cassette tapes were invented in 1963, "talking books" were 12-inch LP records that ran at 16 2/3 rpm and featured "heavy" literature like the complete works of Shakespeare or the entire Bible. The combination of cassette tapes with the car cassette player and the Walkman®, have made recorded literature practical.

Because the printed word so dominates our concept of literature I wanted to explore the experience of "listening" to a book. I must confess that I began this experiment with a bias. In the past, I had always corrected my sister when she talked about "reading" books on tape during her long commute to work. "Listened to — not read," I insisted. As a "purist" and hard-core bibliophile, I have difficulty thinking of listening to a book as a substitute for reading one. Nevertheless, I tried my best to keep an open mind.

I found no audio books that interested me in the small, picked-over selection in my local library, so I purchased one. I was amazed by the incredible number and variety of books on tape and finally settled on a book by E. L. Doctorow, an author who was new to me but who was highly recommended by a friend. The book was a condensed version of City of God (Doctorow had approved the condensation) read by John Rubinstein, a Broadway actor who had taped several books.

I decided to listen to it during my drive to and from work.

I found City of God to be a good introduction to Doctorow, a writer whose use of words and phrases is exquisite and precise. But I was frustrated to have such excellent writing slipping by so fast — I wanted to savour the beautiful language and linger over the phrases. I lost concentration on the story at times because I was committing a phrase to memory. In addition, the comparatively "short" stints of time I had to listen (my 25-minute commute and even shorter drives around town) made following the interwoven stories of the characters difficult. John Rubinstein partially mitigated the potential confusion by using different tones and accents to identify characters.

I tried to assess the quality of this "reading" experience as I listened, taking care to remember my particular learning style. I discovered some time ago that I remember best the things that I have read. (I could not remember the name of the delicious chicken dish that a friend had served me [coq au vin] until I saw it written down.) Seeing information visually reinforces my mental processing of that information. For example, I can often return quickly to a particular phrase or paragraph in a book because I can visualize where it was located on a page.

Different learning styles affect the reading and listening experience. Psychologists have identified four types of learners. Visual learners, who learn best when they see the material written down. Tactile learners, who learn best by underlining material and summarizing it in charts or diagrams. Kinesthetic learners, who find that movement (such as walking or rocking while listening) enhances learning. Auditory learners, who learn best by hearing information presented and discussed. Therefore, while auditory and kinesthetic learners (depending on their setting) may absorb information by listening to tapes, tactile and visual learners will not do as well.

Listening well requires great concentration and discipline partly because the listener cannot set the pace. When I read a book I can linger over a well-turned phrase, enjoy the use of words, and reread material more easily than when I listen. My mind tends to wander when I am listening; I think ahead or dwell on a particularly interesting point. A friend once commented: "Hearing a text makes me crazy with impatience."

Originally, I hadn’t wanted a condensed book. I worried that some essential details might be left out. Complete and unabridged tapes (45) of Tolstoy’s War and Peace are available. The condensed version, with only four tapes, must leave out an incredible amount of detail. I began to suspect that this had happened to City of God. For example, I was anxious to read the book to see how it had treated the death of a major character. Had my mind wandered at a crucial point or did the book describe this event almost casually? Was something crucial lost when the book was condensed or was it simply Doctorow’s narrative style?

It was interesting to learn that E. L. Doctorow himself was at first opposed to condensing books for use on audio tapes, but has since changed his mind. Doctorow said: "It is pretty clear to me that print culture is under enormous assault today. I take the position now that anything that offers language and the sound of words and literate thought is a good thing."

As a result of listening to City of God, I believe I could become enchanted with listening to books on tape. But my motivation would always be to reduce the tedium of long road trips. While listening to an excellent reader narrate a story proved to be a pleasurable use of time as well as a link to the time-honoured tradition of storytelling, I was only truly satisfied with the experience when I held the book in my hands.

As a visual learner, I will always learn more by reading. But I can appreciate the pleasure derived from having access to and listening to an increasing number and variety of books on tape.