The Solitary Vice: Against Reading by Mikita Brottman (Counterpoint, $14.95, paperback, 9781593761875/1593761872, April 1, 2008)

Early in her erudite and witty new work, Mikita Brottman, a professor of humanities at the Maryland Institute College of Art, notes the recent profusion of "books about books," ranging from lists of books we "must" read before we die to thoughtful studies of the novel by prominent authors like Jane Smiley. But when she starts her own contribution to the genre by provocatively comparing reading with masturbation--"the solitary vice," as it was known in the Victorian Age--we know we're in for a wild literary ride.

Brottman boldly challenges the current conventional wisdom, expressed in such venues as citywide reading campaigns and the NEA's Reading at Risk report, that reading is an unalloyed good. "If reading were as vital as its exponents like to claim," she asks, "why would we need all this organized pressure to encourage us to do it?" Citing her own childhood reading obsession, devouring horror stories "locked away in my attic bedroom . . . avoiding everything I could, except books," she describes how reading turned her "from an ordinary, introspective teenager into a barely functional recluse."  

From Brottman's reading autobiography (her "bibliofessional"), The Solitary Vice moves briskly to a discussion of "bibliomania" and other forms of book worship (her take on the "Art Garfunkel Library" is hilarious) and an incisive debunking of the Western literary canon ("Let me make it plain: there are no books you 'ought' to read."). From there, she travels, somewhat discursively, into a deconstruction of our celebrity culture, confessional writing and literary biography, her passion for true crime stories and the relationship of Freudian psychoanalytic thought and literature. Were she not such an engaging literary companion, one might be forgiven some grumbling about the link between these portions of the book and its central thesis. Yet, as Brottman generously shares her own reading obsessions, she subtly challenges us to consider what gives each of us who love to read our unique passion for the written word.

The range of Brottman's reading is vast and impressively eclectic--The Solitary Vice features a "Works Cited" section that stretches to 21 pages. Although she starts by lobbing a hand grenade into the ranks of those promoting reading as the cure all for our social and cultural ills, in the end Brottman recognizes "the real power of reading. It can help you anatomize and explore the inner lives of people very different from you . . . Reading can . . . help you to be less self-centered, more able to see the world through other people's eyes." If we can bring ourselves to read with the proper mix of discernment and gusto, this fresh, frank and lively book suggests, a world opens wide for us.--Harvey Freedenberg