Introduction
Many things shock me. A door knob while I scoot on staticy socks, the realization I have ten toes and not, say, thirteen, and when a pinecone hits me square on the noggin are all rare enough events; although, they do happen at least once a week. But something else shocks me, too. It comes as startling as lightning and as blunt as a head-seeking pinecone. I look around the landscape of my industry, that dead and salty sea, and cannot find a soul who reads books. A climb to the crow’s nest yields no hope. Instead of seeing noses in books, all I have found are noses in screens. There are the occasional sightings of someone reading the latest leadership book, which, I suppose, should refresh me. But what I want to find is someone reading a fairy tale. I hope for a kindred spirit in this industry. Oh! what a day if I found someone reading Winnie-the-Pooh!
A reading list
The flare is fired. My flag is hoisted. The message in a bottle cast into the swirly sea. If anyone in my industry wishes to start reading, then let them look here. My advice will not lead you to the latest books on Amazon. It will not take you to published papers of engineering research. You will find yourself surrounded by specters and spirits, ghosts of dead men. The dustier the book, the better. Books by still-walking authors have their thousands, but the dead ones, their tens of thousands. The reading I propose for this industry is not usual, but it is ordinary.
Here are some recommended readings for the folks in my industry. I will list them here and then give some effort to explain myself.
- Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton
- Horatius at the Bridge by Lord Macaulay
- Winie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne
- The Gospel according to John
- Deep Work by Cal Newport
A mild explanatory effort
For those of you who haven’t run out of the restaurant yet, I want you all to go on an adventure. I want you, my fellow hobbits, to go far, far away. Leave your homes and kitchen-gardens. Walk up that blue mountain hundreds of miles away. Turn back and see that gigantic landmass your home and kitchen-garden sit on; that shape too large and too close to see while you stand in your house. See the world and its history and then return home. Your safety is not guaranteed. You may, as Chesterton said, set out to find New South Wales, only to rediscover Old South Wales. You may, as Horatius beckoned, find yourself fighting on a bridge – ready to die the best death imaginable. You may, as Rabbit said, go for a long explore and come back as a different Tigger. You might, as John wrote, find the man who all history centers on. You may very well, as Cal Newport wrote, become a better worker.
Conclusion
Well, I wrote a list of books. That list fits on a sticky note. My entire library does not fit on my one bookshelf. I could point you to church history, to Mark Twain and Doug Wilson, to P. G. Wodehouse, to Introductory Greek, to C. S. Lewis and Tolkien, but doing so would likely work against me as I am trying to be brief here. I’m not doing that too well at the moment.
Those five books changed me. The alteration is as frightful as a collision with a semi-truck. The Gospel according to John saved my soul. Chesterton welcomed me to my second childhood. Lord Macaulay brought back boyhood’s fire in my chest. A.A. Milne taught me the potency of brief dialogue and humor. The rest of Milne’s contribution is indescribable unless you and I play a game of pooh-sticks. Cal Newport turned my career from a doomed march into a swamp into a climbing of a limestone tower.
