Free Reading
Memory plays tricks. Thus, my ability to remember much about works that I wanted to read, and little, if anything, of the content of books that others obliged me to crack, may be nothing more than nostalgia. Still, I marvel at the contrast between the lasting impact of my free reading and the speed with which the fruit of my intramural investments of time, trouble, and treasure went the way of a month-old banana.
Of course, every rule enjoys exceptions. Thus, I often employ the framework that I acquired while obeying a command to read The Essence of Decision, a study of the Cuban missile crisis in which the author looked at the same event through three distinct lenses, each of which had been ground by one of the competing cults of political science. Likewise, I still recall, with both profit and pleasure, an obligatory encounter with the economic regulations of Louis XI, King of France.1
Given my interests, I suspect that I would have, at some point in my life, read The Essence of Decision. At the same time, I sincerely doubt that, if left entirely to my own devices, I would have run into an eighteenth century compendium of fifteenth century charters of the barbers’ and drapers’ guilds of towns in the south of France. So, thank you, Professor Miskimin.2
