(Over 60 diverse thinkers on how to get more from books)
Xi was a philosopher and historian of the Southern Song dynasty.
There are two paths to reading. It can be done for the sake of others, which “is like our having food but, rather than eating it ourselves, simply placing it outside the door so that others know our household has it” (Chu 1990, 110). This won’t lead to a text affecting you, so the second path is to read for your own sake—to understand “the essence of things and affairs firsthand” for yourself (ibid.). This is the way of disinterested, self-cultivation with no lofty ambition, and what Xi recommends. His particular form of self-cultivation was focused on embodying the rational, Confucian moral principle, but his advice applies to serious study in general.
Reading, then, is not a mere academic exercise or route to career advancement. Instead, it is the primary means to investigate things and extend knowledge in the service of improving your actions. We understand a text when we recognise its principles in ourselves and then act upon them (p. 135):
you must first become intimately familiar with the text so that its words seem to come from your own mouth. Then you must reflect on it so that its ideas seem to come from your own mind. Only then can there be real understanding.
We reach this understanding with the formula: “Study extensively, inquire carefully, ponder thoroughly, sift clearly, and practice earnestly”, with each step being sequential and essential (p. 29).
Xi devised a curriculum of Confucianism which formed the basis of the educational structure of later imperial China (p. ix). It elevated four canonical texts above all others, which were compiled with Xi’s commentaries (p. 8). He insisted on a specific order of study, moving from simpler to more complex ideas. These four texts provided the moral principles and historical texts illustrated the past consequences of applying the principles. Both were necessary because genuinely understanding a principle requires understanding it in practice, but the abstract principle must be understood first (p. 40). Unless you first understand the core principles of a subject “your mind will have no measuring-stick and thus will be frequently misled” (ibid.). The order in which we read books about a given topic is important, so if we lack a curriculum we should consider adopting one.
Just as the curriculum had an inherent order, so did each of Xi’s prescribed texts (pp. 44–5):
Each section, chapter, and line [of a text] is in its proper order; this order cannot be disturbed… When you don’t yet understand what precedes, don’t venture to what follows; when you haven’t yet comprehended this, don’t venture to set your mind on that.
You move through a text linearly from beginning to end. Reading is not to be rushed: “If we chew slowly, the flavor lasts. If we take big bites and big gulps, in the end we don’t know the flavor” (p. 137). This patient lingering extends to not explicitly aiming to finish a book, not always thinking about moving forward, not thinking of gain. If you’re obsessed with the idea of completing the book, your mind is fixated on the last page, rather than seeking to understand the work’s lessons (p. 141). In fact, you should take almost the opposite approach: “Only if you don’t relish the idea of moving on to read another paragraph will you apprehend [the one paragraph you are reading]” (Ng 2020, 54). It is pleasurable to discover the meaning, and this feeling suggests your familiarity with what you’ve read. The “greatest failing is to strive for quantity”; what matters is true understanding, complete familiarity with the text (Chu 1990, 43). Read slowly, patiently, and methodically.
“Learning is reciting”, so to read is an interplay of recital and pondering (pp. 138–9). This is distinct from rote memorisation, though. The idea is that by learning the text off by heart you can think about it at length when you do not have the book to hand, and that understanding results from this reflective practice. Xi “called for students to recite each text over and over again until they no longer saw it as .”: “even fifty or a hundred readings was not too many” (p. 45). This is a gruelling endeavour, but “If the effort exerted is great, understanding is extensive. When understanding is extensive, its utility is lasting and assured.” (Ng 2020, 54). Xi exhorts (Chu 1990, 130):
Arouse your spirit, keep your body upright, and don’t fret, as though a dagger and a sword were at your back! Be most thoroughgoing in penetrating even one passage. Hit its head and the tail will respond; hit its tail and the head will respond. Only then is reading done right.
This is an unrelenting process that leaves indelible, painful traces (ibid.):
Here’s what is necessary: one blow with a club, one scar; one slap on the face, a handful of blood. Your reading of what other people write should be just like this. Don’t be lax!
This intensity involves critical cunning, detective work (Ng 2020, 55):
Reading texts and words is like catching a thief. You must reconstruct the details of the crime, including stolen items worth no more than a penny. If only the general outline [of the theft] is portrayed, even though you know who the thief is, you will still not know where the theft was committed
Yet we should moderate our reading programme so that we don’t exhaust our strength: “If you are able to read two hundred characters, read only one hundred, but on those one hundred make a truly fierce effort.” (Chu 1990, 132–3). “If today you are able to read a page, read half a page; read that half page over and over with all your strength. Only if you read both halves of the page in this manner will you become intimately familiar with the page.” (p. 132). That is, we develop moderation through habit (Ng 2020, 57):
Reading cannot be done without establishing the limit at the outset. [It] should be managed like farm work, where the farms have boundaries. Such is also the case in the pursuit of learning. Today’s scholars do not realize this principle, so that when they first start, they are tremendously eager. But then they become gradually slothful, and in the end, they pay no attention whatsoever. This is all because there is no setting of the limit at the very outset.
Learning in this way is a long-term process so the habits we develop must be maintainable without being unhealthy or ineffective—the notion of thorough, methodical study pervades Xi’s advice.
We must approach the text with reverential attention: a calm and peaceful mind, free from distractions. Practically, this begins with our environment: “Shut the door, close the gate, and cut off the four accesses” (p. 55). This state of mind primarily involves mental discipline and concentration, but is aided by certain physical attitudes (Chu 1990, 172):
The head should be upright, the eyes looking straight ahead, the feet steady, the hands respectful, the mouth quiet and composed, the bearing solemn—these are all aspects of inner mental attentiveness
We may note the similarities with a meditation posture. Indeed, Xi suggested we spend “half-day quiet sitting and half-day reading books” (Chan 1987, 27). The meditative aspect presumably helps settle the mind so that it “becomes like still water or a clear mirror” (Chu 1990, 48). Failing to prepare ourselves in this way means that even if we read, we won’t comprehend or remember because mentally we remain in the previous context.
Our minds must be still and also open, free of preconceptions about what the text will say (p. 46). We must “scrub clean the mind, then read” (p. 146). If we begin with preconceived ideas we’ll read them into the text, and the text will merely confirm them. So we must be willing to doubt not only the text but also ourselves: “if you have no doubts, encourage them. And if you do have doubts, get rid of them.” (p. 151).
We can’t force our meaning on the text because, for Xi, the meaning is objective (pp. 55–56). To access this meaning we must mentally place ourselves within the historical context of the text, empathise with the author, and examine their motives for writing. We must become the text. We should let it enter our mind and blend with it, until we’re in perfect accord (p. 129).
The ideal reader, then, limits the scope of their curriculum, works through its texts gradually, sequentially, and methodically to the point of intimate familiarity. They achieve self-cultivation by fully internalising the principles to the extent that they are infused in their being and therefore in their action. Xi offers students three dicta, summing up his approach to reading (p. 132):
We may ask whether there are texts we would like to read that Xi’s methodology could illuminate—what would it mean to read in this reverential, meditative manner?