Reading With Purpose
What I've Been Reading, March 2025
Sometimes we read because there’s nothing else to do, and sometimes we read because there’s so much to do. The latter is often the case for writers. You have an idea in your mind, and you know that reading certain books will help that idea to flourish, but you just can’t read fast enough to make it happen right now. This is where I find myself at the turn of the first quarter of 2025.
At times like this, reading can feel very purposeful. You have a goal—something you want to understand and write about—and the only way to reach it is to keep reading, to keep growing your knowledge, until one day it all makes sense and you can finally put pen to paper. This is how I felt after publishing chapter two of The Stories We Tell. I wanted to forget about everything else, lock myself away with my books for several weeks, and get started on chapter three. But life goes on, and like most of us I bear the involuntary burden of being a writer who writes simply for the thrill of it—so work goes on, too.
Even so, that feeling of purpose remains. If I die tomorrow having not written this next chapter, I might die having failed to fulfill my life’s purpose (so the feeling tells me). My only choice is to catch the quiet moments and keep reading when I can, perhaps more slowly than I would like, but in the knowledge that it will eventually lead me to write a small masterpiece.
There is value in reading without a purpose, of course. To walk aimlessly into a bookshop or library and walk out with a great new book is one of life’s small pleasures. I discovered one of my favourite authors, Steven Erikson, this way. But right now, whether the goal is to celebrate my cultural heritage (by reading the Western canon), to grow my knowledge of myths and legends (by reading Arthurian literature), or to uncover the mysteries of human psychology, I find that reading with a purpose helps me to read more often, and to find more enjoyment in it.
So what have I been reading lately?
Current books:
Jason A. J. Storm, Metamodernism: The Future of Theory: 62/285 pages read
Carl G. Jung, Man and His Symbols: 322/387 pages read
Wolfram von Eschenbach, Parzival: 86/411 pages read
Tom Holland, Dominion [audiobook]: 8/22 chapters read
Vladimir Nabokov, The Master and Margarita: 147/373 pages read
Numa de Coulanges, The Ancient City: 70/323 pages read.
Completed:
B. Kastrup, More Than Allegory: On Religious Myth, Truth, and Belief [audiobook]
Carl G. Jung, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious [audiobook]
Byung-Chul Han, The Crisis of Narration
Joseph Campbell, Romance of the Grail
Chretien de Troyes, The Story of the Grail (Perceval)
J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust (parts 1 and 2).
(bold indicates that I have made progress or completed this book since my last update)
Jungian Theory
I’ve always been vaguely interested in Carl Jung, but I recently decided to start reading his work in earnest. Who knows why we decide to pursue certain ideas when we do—another point in favour of Roger’s Bacon’s theory, I suppose—but I’ve been really enjoying Man and His Symbols as an introduction to Jung’s thought. If you only ever read one book by Jung in your lifetime, make it this one. Chapter one is the sole chapter written by Jung himself, but he worked closely with the other authors to ensure that each of the following chapters stayed true to his vision. Alongside this, I’ve been listening to an audiobook of The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. This is definitely not a good way to read Jung for the first time, so stay clear of this audiobook unless you’re a particularly strong auditory learner or well versed in Jungian theory. It’s a complex book.
Arthuriana
I’ve continued to pursue the Grail through my reading of the Arthurian legends, and I’m currently partway through what many believe to be the greatest Arthurian text in the German language: Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival. Based on Chretien de Troyes’ unfinished The Story of the Grail, von Eschenbach’s version is an attempt to not just conclude his story, but to add depth and colour to his world. Von Eschenbach adds backstory about Parzival’s father, a knight who wins renown as a warrior in the East and marries an African queen (and then leaves to pursue further adventures); he fleshes out various characters and locations, drawing upon his own experience as a knight and Bavarian nobleman; and, of interest to figures like Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell, he seems to have weaved mythological and alchemical allusions throughout the text, giving the story a deeper symbolic layer. I’m not very far into Parzival, so I can’t comment on this yet—but if you’ve been following my work for a while, you can probably see why I’m so excited to read this book.
The Stories We Tell
One of my big goals for this year is to finish my series on narrative psychology, The Stories We Tell. I concluded Chapter Two by highlighting the catastrophic influence of Postmodern ideas on our ability to tell stories, and while it’s true that our culture remains tainted by Postmodernity, it wouldn’t be right to end the series on such a pessimistic note. Deconstruction will never be a welcome guest at Mind & Mythos.
One of the lines of research I’m pursuing in my project of re-construction is the emerging cultural trend of Metamodernism. I’m especially interested in the ideas of philosopher Jason Storm, whose book Metamodernism: The Future of Theory offers a compelling path back to sincerity and meaning. It’s too soon to say whether Metamodernism will prove relevant to my own ideas, or to the overall Mind & Mythos Project, but Storm’s influence on works like Johann Kurtz’s essay The Zetetic Blade (which I referenced in Chapter Two) gives me hope that he might be on to something.
I suspect Jung’s ideas will find their way into chapter three as well, and really any work that explores the current narrative crisis—such as Byung-Chul Han’s The Crisis of Narration—is a contender for my interest right now. If you have any books/essays/videos/etc. to recommend on this topic, please share them in the comments.
Classic Book Club
As long-time readers will know, last year I joined a classic book club that meets once per month. The focus is, as the name suggests, literary classics—particularly, but not exclusively, those that form part of the Western Canon. This year I’ve read Goethe’s Faust and J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised by both. They are very different works, but I think both deserve their place in the Canon.
Faust, written by the great Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, is the story of Faust, an ageing and eternally unsatisfied intellectual who makes a deal with the devil (Mephisto). Faust is offered a second youth, and with it access to almost unlimited power and pleasure. In return, Mephisto will take possession of Faust’s soul upon his death. The twist: the insatiable Faust can only die when he experiences a moment so joyous that he utters the words “Linger a while—thou art so fair!”. Faust experiences pleasure, love, grief, power, corruption, and damnation. His adventures take him to the strangest corners of the world—to the depths of Hell and the heights of Heaven—and while I don’t want to spoil the ending, Goethe’s Romantic vision is nowhere better articulated than in Faust’s final revelation: “Freedom and life are earned by those alone/Who conquer them each day anew.” Faust isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s beautifully written, and is truly one of those ‘read it before you die’ books. I highly recommend it.
The Catcher in the Rye is J. D. Salinger’s classic coming-of-age tale about Holden Caulfield, a ne’er-do-well teenager with a chip on his shoulder and a hatred for phonies. At least, that’s what Holden wants us to think. As the story progresses, Salinger’s stream-of-consciousness style reveals that there’s a lot more going on for this character than he initially lets on. Many readers find Holden incredibly annoying, but I find him quite endearing, in a tragic sort of way. Maybe it comes from my professional experience working with troubled young men. I’ve met a lot of Holdens.
Like Faust, The Catcher in the Rye isn’t for everyone. But it’s short, it’s readable, and I think it’s a book that everyone should read at least twice in their life—once as a teenager, and then again as an adult (say, 30+). I missed the chance to read it as a teenager, but I imagine 15-year-old me would have enjoyed Holden’s anti-phony attitude. Adult me just wants to give him a hug.
That’s all for this month. See you in a couple of weeks for Essay Club! - D. A.