“Readingasaurus” by Will Leivenberg

My Mom used to bribe me to read. Sad, right?

Every summer, from the time I was eight to probably thirteen, she used to tell me she’d give me ten dollars per book I read. She was an accomplished writer and editor and understood that consistently reading provided the necessary foundation for being a solid writer, as opposed to how I spent my free time: eating Cheez-Itz and drinking Root Beer in front of the TV.

But like most kids of my generation, I was consumed with “epic” TV shows like “Power Rangers,” “Boy Meets World,” “Saved By The Bell,” or an Original Disney Movie like Brink that boiled down my adolescence to addicting thirty-minute time spans.

Whether it was a book report for school or reading for pleasure, I never got that ‘pleasure’ and didn’t really get what all the fuss was about. This is not to say I never read, or even hated reading, because I didn’t. But I can sincerely, and now sadly, say that I would not have read independently unless I was forced, or bribed to do so, by my parents.

Why is it that most of my friends feel the same way? The truth is, there is no one answer. But something I do know is that things haven’t changed much. I am now a freshman in college and the vast majority of people my age, both in and out Berkeley, can’t stand reading. They absolutely dread the reading that they have to do for their classes, so it makes sense that they have no incentive to find a quiet space and indulge in some pleasurable reading.

When I think about my parents’ generation and their parents before them, I can’t help but ask the question of why their lives were so consumed with free reading, whereas today it is basically non-existent. My Grandpa, who was born in 1918, used to tell me he would spend his weekends as a teen at the nearby library, reading any book he could get his hands on. Does my total lack of desire to spend time searching for books at the local library make me ignorant, average, or both?

There is a scene emblazoned on my mind from the movie The Notebook, in which Ryan Gosling’s character (Noah Calhoun), is sitting on the front porch reading poetry to his girlfriend Rachel McAdams (Allie Hamilton). Personally, I think this a beautiful and romantic image, but I think it is in every way relevant to the time period. Obviously people during this time, and my Grandfather’s, didn’t have the same vast variety of options for being entertained that we have today, but why has reading, an activity relished for centuries, become detested?

I’m not proposing that all teenagers don’t read. But, it upsets me that the attention span of most of my friends lasts about as long as it takes for their Google page to load. Teens have replaced paperbacks with laptops and hard covers with widescreens. The major difference is that there are just too many distractions. Fifty years ago, people had to take the initiative and make an effort to be entertained and books bridged the gap. Today, all it takes is one click of your remote or ‘On’ button to your computer and the opportunities are endless.

Computers and TV offer you what you want in a quick and efficient process. Reading, on the other hand, is a gradual process. It’s slow. For the longest time what I hated most about reading was that it took at least forty to fifty pages for something exciting to happen. In that time I could have caught up on the most recent relationship drama between Kelly and Brandon on “90210.”

The patience of my generation seems sterile. I’ve labeled us the ‘gimme generation,’ because in the case of reading books, it becomes a question of “gimme the climax” or “gimme a Mac.”

Why don’t teens just pick up a book and read? Because we know that in the same amount of time it takes the average person to read one page, that same person could learn of Heath Ledger’s unexpected death, the pervasive steroid use in baseball, and NASA’s newest claim that Pluto isn’t considered a planet anymore. Teens don’t care for the “quality, not quantity” mantra.

We want as much as we can get, as fast as we can get it. Newspapers, magazines and Steinbeck novels may be an integral part of America’s past time, but they have no appeal to today’s teen.