We are accustomed to speaking of reading as a hobby, a diversion, a pastime to be indulged once the duties of the day have been attended to. It is pleasant, often enjoyable, certainly enriching—but optional. Reading sits in the same polite category as stamp collecting, embroidery, or amateur gardening: commendable, but not essential, a polite accessory to life rather than a foundation of it. This is a fundamental misunderstanding. Reading is not a hobby. It is work. Serious, disciplined, exacting work. Hobbies, by their nature, are deferable. They yield gracefully to the urgency of other obligations. Work does not. Work…
