Stimulation: The Future of Reading
by James Roland
Lets face it, Harry Potter is gone. No more original books by J.K. Rowling; we face a lifetime of adulthood filled with low quality fan fiction and countless encyclopedias and glossaries.
We also face the fact that, without Harry Potter, the next generation will be completely illiterate.
But I have a plan.
When I was thirteen years old I read my first Stephen King novel, IT. I snuck it into the house and kept it hidden under my pillow, more afraid that my mother would find it than I was of the child-eating clown that inhabited its pages.
About that time my parents were hosting an open house at work, which happened to be a dry land marina that they operated and therefore lived on site in an apartment above the office.
The open house was a success, with countless guests, a popcorn machine, and helium balloons. After we cleaned up the mess I carried the leftover balloons to my room and released them in front of a fan, sending them careening around the ceiling.
Then I lay on my bed to read.
No sooner had I reached the impending monster scene, complete with a devil clown enticing a young child to his death with a tempting balloon, when one of my own forgotten balloons dipped and brushed my leg, sending me leaping up from my headboard to my dresser, where I turned around to see my room swirling with evil balloons.
For years this has been my favorite reading experience, one that remains unrivaled to this day (although, realizing that I was 22 years old and reading a Harry Potter book under the covers with a flashlight was a close second). And it seems to me that if we’re to save the future of Spelling Bees, we need to implement full sensory reading experiences like this one.
For instance, I had a friend who was reading Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton, a re-imagining of the Beowulf legend. After finishing a chapter where the evil creatures attack the Vikings while shrouded in fog, my friend was called to go feed the dog . . . and had to walk across his expansive back yard that was socked in with thick, gray mist.
I often try to match a particular author to my particular surroundings, my two greatest achievements being Tennessee Williams and William Faulkner in Louisiana and Charles Dickens in London.
It is also possible to enhance the reading experience by contradicting the content with external stimulation. For example, I recently read An Abundance of Katherines by John Green while smoking a pipe in the backyard. I highly recommend reading young adult fiction while absorbing large amounts of nicotine from a device that looks like it should be hanging from the mouth of a 90-year-old British professor.
If these ideas aren’t enough, consider the techniques employed by chef Homaro Cantu, who recently implemented edible menus into his restaurant. What better way to get kids reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory than pages that melt in their mouth but not in their hand?
Or, if this leads to greater cases of childhood obesity and diabetes, maybe stick with the methods used by the L.A. Times, who ran a full page ad in Scratch and Sniff colored ink. Imagine reading Mario Puzo’s The Godfather with just a hint of marinara sauce, or The Secret Garden with the permeating smell of hydrangeas.
This might all seem a bit gimmicky, like the short lived “Smell-O-Vision” of the 1960s, but this is the future of reading on the line! Books that stimulate our sense of smell and taste may seem a bit extreme, but until another boy wizard comes along, we need to keep the kids reading.
Just be careful if you pick up a copy of Everyone Poops.
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