I think it’s fair to say most people read with the goal of learning something new. Some people will even go out of their way to read books with different—even conflicting—views from themselves. I consider such an intellectually prudent approach as a natural evolution for those who read a lot.  

I thought I read to learn something new as well. But upon reflection, that wasn’t true. I noticed my enjoyment—measured by how much I wanted to drop everything else and just read—came whilst reading books that confirmed my beliefs. 

See, I already decided what to believe. I had an idea of what I considered to be right and true and I sought out books that helped me keep the belief. Books and their authors became the friends I needed to maintain hope for a world I wished to be true. 

I read books that supported my beliefs. Those who didn’t received a barrage of marginalia notes screaming “How would you know?! How are you so certain?!” Then, like with relationships with people, I put the book down and ended the relationship because life was too short—Seneca would say I just wasn’t using it well. 

I had a hard time maintaining my fragile convictions and books gave me all the help I needed. Maybe I shouldn’t have had such convictions in the first place. But I knew them to be right. I merely needed to protect them from the mistaken wisdom of the crowd. 

Turns out. That’s why I read. Of course, there are other reasons like curiosity with topics I have no opinions on. But, I daresay, let the virtuous and humble seek out conflicting and contradicting opinions. 

I’m only spiteful because I am still maturing. I hope to be wise enough to seek conflicting opinions in my books. All part of the journey I suppose.