By JAMILA RIZVI
A 2012 survey of more than 21,000 children has reveled that almost a fifth of them would be ‘embarrassed’ if a friend saw them reading a book.
More than half said that they preferred to watch TV.
Let’s take a moment to ponder that fact, shall we?
Reading – perhaps the most truly rewarding of all private pursuits (keep it clean, friends) – is no longer an acceptable life choice.
When I was a kid, reading was absolutely my favourite thing to do. It was books that allowed my imagination to soar in a way that drama played out on a screen could never do.
This is because books don’t give you all the information. Instead, they rely on your own creativity and consciousness to fill in the blanks and interpret someone else’s imagined world, as you want it to be.
I still love books. And I’m a big believer that you have to consume some trash along with your classics. After all, how else would you know the difference?
But there is one genre that I truly hate. And that, is the stupid, stupid vampires.
I am sure that in hundreds of years’ time, anthropologists will study generations Y and Z.
In digital lectures – where the professor appears via hologram and students absorb information by scanning barcodes with the computers embedded in their wrists – and they will wonder what we were like and what made us tick.
The teacher will ask, through some kind of yet-to-be-invented digital telepathy, “students, what is distinctive about the made-for-film, reading material of these generations that sets them apart from those who came before?”