Why Do We Read Fiction? Why SHOULD We?

I remember being read to, as a child.

I experienced no greater privilege, in my opinion, than that, in my formative years. I remember the voices and the accents my parents took on as they embodied the different characters for me. I remember the utter rapture of being transported through language to a different world and I remember the utter rupture of my heart as I shared in its inhabitants' heartbreak and loss.

I remember realising I could read for myself: the unbridled joy; the ineffable sense of opportunity. I remember voraciously devouring pages, shelves, libraries of literature in the twenty-five or so years that followed.

I remember when I fell briefly out of love with books when consuming them at a rapid and irreverent pace became my compulsory modus operandi throughout five years of university study of English, and I remember our joyous reunion on a rainy Saturday in 2017 when I picked up a copy of David Nicholls' Us (2014).

I don't remember considering why.

Reading for me was as natural a process as eating, drinking, sleeping, breathing. But, with every year I complete as an English teacher, I see more and more young men and women who have no motivation to read. Why don't they read? Why do I read?

I mean, there are plenty of reasons why we should read:

• Protecting our minds against dementia (Verghese et al, 2003);
• Having better social outcomes (Finn & Gerber, 1998);
• Enhancing our vocabularies (Seragi, 1978);
• Etc.

But it would be pretty absurd to suggest that many five-year-olds are motivated to read by the prospect of improving themselves and bolstering their longevity. Motivation must be governed by something more immediate and intrinsic than items on that list, mustn't it?

What about those immediate benefits, then? What can reading do for us that we don't have to wait years to see realised? Well, how about improving our people skills?

Research has shown, repeatedly, that reading fiction can improve both our empathy (Bal & Veltkamp, 2013) and our Theory of Mind (Kidd & Castano, 2013). Theory of Mind is basically the idea that we construct our concepts of other anyone's personality based on observable behaviours: that we all act differently because our minds are different. The extension of this research is to conclude that fiction readers will be better with people and have richer relationships as a result.

Steven Pinker, in his 2011 book The Better Angels of our Nature, has even made the bold claim that we have increasing literacy standards to thank for a decline of violence in our culture.

This concept of the Theory of Mind feeds into the two dominating theories regarding why we read:

1. Working that muscle: reading as exercise for the Theory of Mind

Lisa Zunshine (2006) suggests that when we read fiction, we might be giving ourselves an opportunity to practise our Theory of Mind on the characters in our books, whilst accompanying scaffolding gives us a sense that we're doing a good job. Essentially, reading becomes a low-stakes outing for our Theory of Mind as we unpick our characters' motivations and philosophies, flexing the Theory of Mind muscle in private.

2. Resting that muscle: reading as relief from the exertions of the Theory of Mind

Contrastingly, Robert Palmer (2004) argued that reading is the opposite: that our Theory of Mind gets a rest while we read. In essence, the job is done for us, as we have access not only to our characters' behaviour and dialogue, but also frequently to their inner monologues -- or omniscient narrators' input at least. The novel puts together mind with action, thus corroborating any Theory of Mind practice.

There is a third, quite compelling theory behind reading motivation, which has just as much to do with our interactions with other people, but less to do with Theory of Mind.

The third theory suggests that one of the strongest motivators we have for reading is for the approval of others. We read canonical literature because the Literati said it's the best; we read the latest Nicholas Sparks to have something to discuss at our local book club; we read (to bastardise Tyler Durden's iconic speech from Fight Club (1999)) books we don't like, in time we don't have, to impress people we don't like.

Food for thought.