reading books essay pdf

Importance Of Reading Essay

Importance of Reading Essay

500+ words essay on reading.

Reading is a key to learning. It’s a skill that everyone should develop in their life. The ability to read enables us to discover new facts and opens the door to a new world of ideas, stories and opportunities. We can gather ample information and use it in the right direction to perform various tasks in our life. The habit of reading also increases our knowledge and makes us more intellectual and sensible. With the help of this essay on the Importance of Reading, we will help you know the benefits of reading and its various advantages in our life. Students must go through this essay in detail, as it will help them to create their own essay based on this topic.

Importance of Reading

Reading is one of the best hobbies that one can have. It’s fun to read different types of books. By reading the books, we get to know the people of different areas around the world, different cultures, traditions and much more. There is so much to explore by reading different books. They are the abundance of knowledge and are best friends of human beings. We get to know about every field and area by reading books related to it. There are various types of books available in the market, such as science and technology books, fictitious books, cultural books, historical events and wars related books etc. Also, there are many magazines and novels which people can read anytime and anywhere while travelling to utilise their time effectively.

Benefits of Reading for Students

Reading plays an important role in academics and has an impactful influence on learning. Researchers have highlighted the value of developing reading skills and the benefits of reading to children at an early age. Children who cannot read well at the end of primary school are less likely to succeed in secondary school and, in adulthood, are likely to earn less than their peers. Therefore, the focus is given to encouraging students to develop reading habits.

Reading is an indispensable skill. It is fundamentally interrelated to the process of education and to students achieving educational success. Reading helps students to learn how to use language to make sense of words. It improves their vocabulary, information-processing skills and comprehension. Discussions generated by reading in the classroom can be used to encourage students to construct meanings and connect ideas and experiences across texts. They can use their knowledge to clear their doubts and understand the topic in a better way. The development of good reading habits and skills improves students’ ability to write.

In today’s world of the modern age and digital era, people can easily access resources online for reading. The online books and availability of ebooks in the form of pdf have made reading much easier. So, everyone should build this habit of reading and devote at least 30 minutes daily. If someone is a beginner, then they can start reading the books based on the area of their interest. By doing so, they will gradually build up a habit of reading and start enjoying it.

Frequently Asked Questions on the Importance of Reading Essay

What is the importance of reading.

1. Improves general knowledge 2. Expands attention span/vocabulary 3. Helps in focusing better 4. Enhances language proficiency

What is the power of reading?

1. Develop inference 2. Improves comprehension skills 3. Cohesive learning 4. Broadens knowledge of various topics

How can reading change a student’s life?

1. Empathy towards others 2. Acquisition of qualities like kindness, courtesy

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How Should One Read a Book?

Read as if one were writing it.

A painting of a woman reading at a table.

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, Young Girl Reading , c. 1868. Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington.

At this late hour of the world’s history, books are to be found in almost every room of the house—in the nursery, in the drawing room, in the dining room, in the kitchen. But in some houses they have become such a company that they have to be accommodated with a room of their own—a reading room, a library, a study. Let us imagine that we are now in such a room; that it is a sunny room, with windows opening on a garden, so that we can hear the trees rustling, the gardener talking, the donkey braying, the old women gossiping at the pump—and all the ordinary processes of life pursuing the casual irregular way which they have pursued these many hundreds of years. As casually, as persistently, books have been coming together on the shelves. Novels, poems, histories, memoirs, dictionaries, maps, directories; black letter books and brand new books; books in French and Greek and Latin; of all shapes and sizes and values, bought for purposes of research, bought to amuse a railway journey, bought by miscellaneous beings, of one temperament and another, serious and frivolous, men of action and men of letters.

Now, one may well ask oneself, strolling into such a room as this, how am I to read these books? What is the right way to set about it? They are so many and so various. My appetite is so fitful and so capricious. What am I to do to get the utmost possible pleasure out of them? And is it pleasure, or profit, or what is it that I should seek? I will lay before you some of the thoughts that have come to me on such an occasion as this. But you will notice the note of interrogation at the end of my title. One may think about reading as much as one chooses, but no one is going to lay down laws about it. Here in this room, if nowhere else, we breathe the air of freedom. Here simple and learned, man and woman are alike. For though reading seems so simple—a mere matter of knowing the alphabet—it is indeed so difficult that it is doubtful whether anybody knows anything about it. Paris is the capital of France; King John signed the Magna Charta; those are facts; those can be taught; but how are we to teach people so to read “Paradise Lost” as to see that it is a great poem, or “Tess of the D’Urbervilles” so as to see that it is a good novel? How are we to learn the art of reading for ourselves? Without attempting to lay down laws upon a subject that has not been legalized, I will make a few suggestions, which may serve to show you how not to read, or to stimulate you to think out better methods of your own.

And directly we begin to ask how should one read a book we are faced by the fact that books differ; there are poems, novels, biographies on the book shelf there; each differs from the other as a tiger differs from a tortoise, a tortoise from an elephant. Our attitude must always be changing, it is clear. From different books we must ask different qualities. Simple as this sounds, people are always behaving as if all books were of the same species—as if there were only tortoises or nothing but tigers. It makes them furious to find a novelist bringing Queen Victoria to the throne six months before her time; they will praise a poet enthusiastically for teaching them that a violet has four petals and a daisy almost invariably ten. You will save a great deal of time and temper better kept for worthier objects if you will try to make out before you begin to read what qualities you expect of a novelist, what of a poet, what of a biographer. The tortoise is bald and shiny; the tiger has a thick coat of yellow fur. So books too differ: one has its fur, the other has its baldness.

To be able to read books without reading them, to skip and saunter, to suspend judgment, to lounge and loaf down the alleys and bye-streets of letters is the best way of rejuvenating one’s own creative power.

Yes; but for all that the problem is not so simple in a library as at the Zoölogical Gardens. Books have a great deal in common; they are always overflowing their boundaries; they are always breeding new species from unexpected matches among themselves. It is difficult to know how to approach them, to which species each belongs. But if we remember, as we turn to the bookcase, that each of these books was written by a pen which, consciously or unconsciously, tried to trace out a design, avoiding this, accepting that, adventuring the other; if we try to follow the writer in his experiment from the first word to the last, without imposing our design upon him, then we shall have a good chance of getting hold of the right end of the string.

To read a book well, one should read it as if one were writing it. Begin not by sitting on the bench among the judges but by standing in the dock with the criminal. Be his fellow worker, become his accomplice. Even, if you wish merely to read books, begin by writing them. For this certainly is true—one cannot write the most ordinary little story, attempt to describe the simplest event—meeting a beggar, shall we say, in the street, without coming up against difficulties that the greatest of novelists have had to face. In order that we may realize, however briefly and crudely, the main divisions into which novelists group themselves, let us imagine how differently Defoe, Jane Austen, and Thomas Hardy would describe the same incident—this meeting a beggar in the street. Defoe is a master of narrative. His prime effort will be to reduce the beggar’s story to perfect order and simplicity. This happened first, that next, the other thing third. He will put in nothing, however attractive, that will tire the reader unnecessarily, or divert his attention from what he wishes him to know. He will also make us believe, since he is a master, not of romance or of comedy, but of narrative, that everything that happened is true. He will be extremely precise therefore. This happened, as he tells us on the first pages of” Robinson Crusoe,” on the first of September. More subtly and artfully, he will hypnotize us into a state of belief by dropping out casually some little unnecessary fact—for instance, “my father called me one morning into his chamber, where he was confined by the gout.” His father’s gout is not necessary to the story, but it is necessary to the truth of the story, for it is thus that anybody who is speaking the truth adds some small irrelevant detail without thinking. Further, he will choose a type of sentence which is flowing but not too full, exact but not epigrammatic. His aim will be to present the thing itself without distortion from his own angle of vision. He will meet the subject face to face, four-square, without turning aside for a moment to point out that this was tragic, or that beautiful; and his aim is perfectly achieved.

But let us not for a moment confuse it with Jane Austen’s aim. Had she met a beggar woman, no doubt she would have been interested in the beggar’s story. But she would have seen at once that for her purposes the whole incident must be transformed. Streets and the open air and adventures mean nothing to her, artistically. It is character that interests her. She would at once make the beggar into a comfortable elderly man of the upper middle classes, seated by his fireside at his ease. Then, instead of plunging into the story vigorously and veraciously, she will write a few paragraphs of accurate and artfully seasoned introduction, summing up the circumstances and sketching the character of the gentleman she wishes us to know. “Matrimony as the origin of change was always disagreeable” to Mr. Woodhouse, she says. Almost immediately, she thinks it well to let us see that her words are corroborated by Mr. Woodhouse himself. We hear him talking. “Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr. Weston ever thought of her.” And when Mr. Woodhouse has talked enough to reveal himself from the inside, she then thinks it time to let us see him through his daughter’s eyes. “You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you mentioned her.” Thus she shows us Emma flattering him and humoring him. Finally then, we have Mr. Woodhouse’s character seen from three different points of view at once; as he sees himself; as his daughter sees him; and as he is seen by the marvellous eye of that invisible lady Jane Austen herself. All three meet in one, and thus we can pass round her characters free, apparently, from any guidance but our own.

Now let Thomas Hardy choose the same theme—a beggar met in the street—and at once two great changes will be visible. The street will be transformed into a vast and sombre heath; the man or woman will take on some of the size and indistinctness of a statue. Further, the relations of this human being will not be towards other people, but towards the heath, towards man as law-giver, towards those powers which are in control of man’s destiny. Once more our perspective will be completely changed. All the qualities which were admirable in “Robinson Crusoe,” admirable in “Emma,” will be neglected or absent. The direct literal statement of Defoe is gone. There is none of the clear, exact brilliance of Jane Austen. Indeed, if we come to Hardy from one of these great writers we shall exclaim at first that he is “melodramatic” or “unreal” compared with them. But we should bethink us that there are at least two sides to the human soul; the light side and the dark side. In company, the light side of the mind is exposed; in solitude, the dark. Both are equally real, equally important. But a novelist will always tend to expose one rather than the other; and Hardy, who is a novelist of the dark side, will contrive that no clear, steady light falls upon his people’s faces, that they are not closely observed in drawing rooms, that they come in contact with moors, sheep, the sky and the stars, and in their solitude are directly at the mercy of the gods. If Jane Austen’s characters are real in the drawing room, they would not exist at all upon the top of Stonehenge. Feeble and clumsy in drawing rooms, Hardy’s people are large-limbed and vigorous out of doors. To achieve his purpose Hardy is neither literal and four-square like Defoe, nor deft and pointed like Jane Austen. He is cumbrous, involved, metaphorical. Where Jane Austen describes manners, he describes nature. Where she is matter of fact, he is romantic and poetical. As both are great artists, each is careful to observe the laws of his own perspective, and will not be found confusing us (as so many lesser writers do) by introducing two different kinds of reality into the same book.

Yet it is very difficult not to wish them less scrupulous. Frequent are the complaints that Jane Austen is too prosaic, Thomas Hardy too melodramatic. And we have to remind ourselves that it is necessary to approach every writer differently in order to get from him all he can give us. We have to remember that it is one of the qualities of greatness that it brings heaven and earth and human nature into conformity with its own vision. It is by reason of this masterliness of theirs, this uncompromising idiosyncrasy, that great writers often require us to make heroic efforts in order to read them rightly. They bend us and break us. To go from Jane Austen to Hardy, from Peacock to Trollope, from Scott to Meredith, from Richardson to Kipling, is to be wrenched and distorted, thrown this way and then that. Besides, everyone is born with a natural bias of his own in one direction rather than in another. He instinctively accepts Hardy’s vision rather than Jane Austen’s, and, reading with the current and not against it, is carried on easily and swiftly by the impetus of his own bent to the heart of his author’s genius. But then Jane Austen is repulsive to him. He can scarcely stagger through the desert of her novels.

Sometimes this natural antagonism is too great to be overcome, but trial is always worth making. For these difficult and inaccessible books, with all their preliminary harshness, often yield the richest fruits in the end, and so curiously is the brain compounded that while tracts of literature repel at one season, they are appetizing and essential at another.

If, then, this is true—that books are of very different types, and that to read them rightly we have to bend our imaginations powerfully, first one way, then another—it is clear that reading is one of the most arduous and exhausting of occupations. Often the pages fly before us and we seem, so keen is our interest, to be living and not even holding the volume in our hands. But the more exciting the book, the more danger we run of over-reading. The symptoms are familiar. Suddenly the book becomes dull as ditchwater and heavy as lead. We yawn and stretch and cannot attend. The highest flights of Shakespeare and Milton become intolerable. And we say to ourselves—is Keats a fool or am I?—a painful question, a question, moreover, that need not be asked if we realized how great a part the art of not reading plays in the art of reading. To be able to read books without reading them, to skip and saunter, to suspend judgment, to lounge and loaf down the alleys and bye-streets of letters is the best way of rejuvenating one’s own creative power. All biographies and memoirs, all the hybrid books which are largely made up of facts, serve to restore to us the power of reading real books—that is to say, works of pure imagination. That they serve also to impart knowledge and to improve the mind is true and important, but if we are considering how to read books for pleasure, not how to provide an adequate pension for one’s widow, this other property of theirs is even more valuable and important. But here again one should know what one is after. One is after rest, and fun, and oddity, and some stimulus to one’s own jaded creative power. One has left one’s bare and angular tower and is strolling along the street looking in at the open windows. After solitude and concentration, the open air, the sight of other people absorbed in innumerable activities, comes upon us with an indescribable fascination.

The windows of the houses are open; the blinds are drawn up. One can see the whole household without their knowing that they are being seen. One can see them sitting round the dinner table, talking, reading, playing games. Sometimes they seem to be quarrelling—but what about? Or they are laughing—but what is the joke? Down in the basement the cook is reading a newspaper aloud, while the housemaid is making a piece of toast; in comes the kitchen maid and they all start talking at the same moment—but what are they saying? Upstairs a girl is dressing to go to a party. But where is she going? There is an old lady sitting at her bedroom window with some kind of wool work in her hand and a fine green parrot in a cage beside her. And what is she thinking? All this life has somehow come together; there is a reason for it; a coherency in it, could one but seize it. The biographer answers the innumerable questions which we ask as we stand outside on the pavement looking in at the open window. Indeed there is nothing more interesting than to pick one’s way about among these vast depositories of facts, to make up the lives of men and women, to create their complex minds and households from the extraordinary abundance and litter and confusion of matter which lies strewn about. A thimble, a skull, a pair of scissors, a sheaf of sonnets, are given us, and we have to create, to combine, to put these incongruous things together. There is, too, a quality in facts, an emotion which comes from knowing that men and women actually did and suffered these things, which only the greatest novelists can surpass. Captain Scott, starving and freezing to death in the snow, affects us as deeply as any made-up story of adventure by Conrad or Defoe; but it affects us differently. The biography differs from the novel. To ask a biographer to give us the same kind of pleasure that we get from a novelist is to misuse and misread him. Directly he says “John Jones was born at five-thirty in the morning of August 13, I 862,” he has committed himself, focussed his lens upon fact, and if he then begins to romance, the perspective becomes blurred, we grow suspicious, and our faith in his integrity as a writer is destroyed. In the same way fact destroys fiction. If Thackeray, for example, had quoted an actual newspaper account of the Battle of Waterloo in “Vanity Fair,” the whole fabric of his story would have been destroyed, as a stone destroys a bubble.

But it is undoubted that these hybrid books, these warehouses and depositories of facts, play a great part in resting the brain and restoring its zest of imagination. The work of building up a life for oneself from skulls, thimbles, scissors, and sonnets stimulates our interest in creation and rouses our wish to see the work beautifully and powerfully done by a Flaubert or a Tolstoi. Moreover, however interesting facts may be, they are an inferior form of fiction, and gradually we become impatient of their weakness and diffuseness, of their compromises and evasions, of the slovenly sentences which they make for themselves, and are eager to revive ourselves with the greater intensity and truth of fiction.

It is necessary to have in hand an immense reserve of imaginative energy in order to attack the steeps of poetry. Here are none of those gradual introductions, those resemblances to the familiar world of daily life with which the novelist entices us into his world of imagination. All is violent, opposite, unrelated. But various causes, such as bad books, the worry of carrying on life efficiently, the intermittent but powerful shocks dealt us by beauty, and the incalculable impulses of our own minds and bodies frequently put us into that state of mind in which poetry is a necessity. The sight of a crocus in a garden will suddenly bring to mind all the spring days that have ever been. One then desires the general, not the particular; the whole, not the detail; to turn uppermost the dark side of the mind; to be in contact with silence, solitude, and all men and women and not this particular Richard, or that particular Anne. Metaphors are then more expressive than plain statements.

Thus in order to read poetry rightly, one must be in a rash, an extreme, a generous state of mind in which many of the supports and comforts of literature are done without. Its power of make-believe, its representative power, is dispensed with in favor of its extremities and extravagances. The representation is often at a very far remove from the thing represented, so that we have to use all our energies of mind to grasp the relation between, for example, the song of a nightingale and the image and ideas which that song stirs in the mind. Thus reading poetry often seems a state of rhapsody in which rhyme and metre and sound stir the mind as wine and dance stir the body, and we read on, understanding with the senses, not with the intellect, in a state of intoxication. Yet all this intoxication and intensity of delight depend upon the exactitude and truth of the image, on its being the counterpart of the reality within. Remote and extravagant as some of Shakespeare’s images seem, far-fetched and ethereal as some of Keats’s, at the moment of reading they seem the cap and culmination of the thought; its final expression. But it is useless to labor the matter in cold blood. Anyone who has read a poem with pleasure will remember the sudden conviction, the sudden recollection (for it seems sometimes as if we were about to say, or had in some previous existence already said, what Shakespeare is actually now saying), which accompany the reading of poetry, and give it its exaltation and intensity. But such reading is attended, whether consciously or unconsciously, with the utmost stretch and vigilance of the faculties, of the reason no less than of the imagination. We are always verifying the poet’s statements, making a flying comparison, to the best of our powers, between the beauty he makes outside and the beauty we are aware of within. For the humblest among us is endowed with the power of comparison. The simplest (provided he loves reading) has that already within him to which he makes what is given him—by poet or novelist—correspond.

With that saying, of course, the cat is out of the bag. For this admission that we can compare, discriminate, brings us to this further point. Reading is not merely sympathizing and understanding; it is also criticizing and judging. Hitherto our endeavor has been to read books as a writer writes them. We have been trying to understand, to appreciate, to interpret, to sympathize. But now, when the book is finished, the reader must leave the dock and mount the bench. He must cease to be the friend; he must become the judge. And this is no mere figure of speech. The mind seems (“seems,” for all is obscure that takes place in the mind) to go through two processes in reading. One might be called the actual reading; the other the after reading. During the actual reading, when we hold the book in our hands, there are incessant distractions and interruptions. New impressions are always completing or cancelling the old. One’s judgment is suspended, for one does not know what is coming next. Surprise, admiration, boredom, interest, succeed each other in such quick succession that when, at last, the end is reached, one is for the most part in a state of complete bewilderment. Is it good? or bad? What kind of book is it? How good a book is it? The friction of reading and the emotion of reading beat up too much dust to let us find clear answers to these questions. If we are asked our opinion, we cannot give it. Parts of the book seem to have sunk away, others to be starting out in undue prominence. Then perhaps it is better to take up some different pursuit—to walk, to talk, to dig, to listen to music. The book upon which we have spent so much time and thought fades entirely out of sight. But suddenly, as one is picking a snail from a rose, tying a shoe, perhaps, doing something distant and different, the whole book floats to the top of the mind complete. Some process seems to have been finished without one’s being aware of it. The different details which have accumulated in reading assemble themselves in their proper places. The book takes on a definite shape; it becomes a castle, a cowshed, a gothic ruin, as the case may be. Now one can think of the book as a whole, and the book as a whole is different, and gives one a different emotion, from the book received currently in several different parts. Its symmetry and proportion, its confusion and distortion can cause great delight or great disgust apart from the pleasure given by each detail as it is separately realized. Holding this complete shape in mind it now becomes necessary to arrive at some opinion of the book’s merits, for though it is possible to receive the greatest pleasure and excitement from the first process, the actual reading, though this is of the utmost importance, it is not so profound or so lasting as the pleasure we get when the second process—the after reading—is finished, and we hold the book clear, secure, and (to the best of our powers) complete in our minds.

But how, we may ask, are we to decide any of these questions—is it good, or is it bad?—how good is it, how bad is it? Not much help can be looked for from outside. Critics abound; criticisms pullulate; but minds differ too much to admit of close correspondence in matters of detail, and nothing is more disastrous than to crush one’s own foot into another person’s shoe. When we want to decide a particular case, we can best help ourselves, not by reading criticism, but by realizing our own impression as acutely as possible and referring this to the judgments which we have gradually formulated in the past. There they hang in the wardrobe of our mind—the shapes of the books we have read, as we hung them up and put them away when we had done with them. If we have just read “Clarissa Harlowe,” for example, let us see how it shows up against the shape of “Anna Karenina.” At once the outlines of the two books are cut out against each other as a house with its chimneys bristling and its gables sloping is cut out against a harvest moon. At once Richardson’s qualities—his verbosity, his obliqueness—are contrasted with Tolstoi’s brevity and directness. And what is the reason of this difference in their approach? And how does our emotion at different crises of the two books compare? And what must we attribute to the eighteenth century, and what to Russia and the translator? But the questions which suggest themselves are innumerable. They ramify infinitely, and many of them are apparently irrelevant. Yet it is by asking them and pursuing the answers as far as we can go that we arrive at our standard of values, and decide in the end that the book we have just read is of this kind or of that, has merit in that degree or in this. And it is now, when we have kept closely to our own impression, formulated independently our own judgment, that we can most profitably help ourselves to the judgments of the great critics—Dryden, Johnson, and the rest. It is when we can best defend our own opinions that we get most from theirs.

So, then—to sum up the different points we have reached in this essay—have we found any answer to our question, how should we read a book? Clearly, no answer that will do for everyone; but perhaps a few suggestions. In the first place, a good reader will give the writer the benefit of every doubt; the help of all his imagination; will follow as closely, interpret as intelligently as he can. In the next place, he will judge with the utmost severity. Every book, he will remember, has the right to be judged by the best of its kind. He will be adventurous, broad in his choice, true to his own instincts, yet ready to consider those of other people. This is an outline which can be filled, in at taste and at leisure, but to read something after this fashion is to be a reader whom writers respect. It is by the means of such readers that masterpieces are helped into the world.

If the moralists ask us how we can justify our love of reading, we can make use of some such excuse as this. But if we are honest, we know that no such excuse is needed. It is true that we get nothing whatsoever except pleasure from reading; it is true that the wisest of us is unable to say what that pleasure may be. But that pleasure—mysterious, unknown, useless as it is—is enough. That pleasure is so curious, so complex, so immensely fertilizing to the mind of anyone who enjoys it, and so wide in its effects, that it would not be in the least surprising to discover, on the day of judgment when secrets are revealed and the obscure is made plain, that the reason why we have grown from pigs to men and women, and come out from our caves, and dropped our bows and arrows, and sat round the fire and talked and drunk and made merry and given to the poor and helped the sick and made pavements and houses and erected some sort of shelter and society on the waste of the world, is nothing but this: we have loved reading.

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THE IMPORTANCE OF READING TO EXPAND KNOWLEDGE

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Essay on Importance of Reading

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In an era dominated by digital media, the timeless tradition of reading stands as a testament to the enduring power of written words to enlighten minds, stir emotions, and expand horizons. Reading is not merely an act of decoding letters on a page; it is a journey into the depths of the human experience, offering a window into different cultures, histories, and perspectives. This essay explores the multifaceted importance of reading, highlighting its role in personal development, education, empathy cultivation, and societal progress.

The Foundation of Knowledge and Critical Thinking

Reading is the cornerstone of education and knowledge acquisition. It introduces readers to a vast array of subjects, from the intricate workings of the universe to the complexities of human behavior. Through reading, individuals gain access to the collective wisdom of humanity, distilled through the ages in books, articles, and texts. This exposure to diverse ideas and viewpoints is crucial for the development of critical thinking skills. It encourages readers to question assumptions, draw connections between disparate concepts, and formulate their own informed opinions.

Enhancing Cognitive Abilities

Engaging with written material challenges the brain, requiring concentration, comprehension, and analysis. This cognitive engagement helps to sharpen the mind, improve memory, and boost analytical skills. Studies have shown that regular reading can slow the cognitive decline associated with aging, underscoring its role in maintaining mental acuity throughout life.

The Portal to Other Worlds and Perspectives

Reading is a unique form of travel, offering an escape from the confines of one’s immediate environment to explore distant lands, alternate realities, and the inner landscapes of diverse characters. This journey fosters a deep sense of empathy and understanding, as readers are invited to view the world through the eyes of others. By experiencing the joys, sorrows, struggles, and triumphs of characters from different backgrounds and cultures, readers develop a more nuanced appreciation of the diversity of the human condition.

Cultivating Empathy and Understanding

Empathy, the ability to understand and share the feelings of another, is a critical skill in today’s increasingly interconnected world. Reading, particularly fiction, has been shown to enhance readers’ empathy by immersing them in the emotional lives of characters. This empathetic engagement with diverse narratives helps to break down barriers of prejudice and intolerance, promoting a more inclusive and compassionate society.

Benifits of Reading

Mental Stimulation: Reading engages the brain, stimulating cognitive functions like concentration, critical thinking, and problem-solving. It keeps the mind active and sharpens intellectual abilities.
Knowledge Acquisition: Reading exposes readers to a wide range of topics, ideas, and information. It’s a primary means of learning about the world, history, cultures, and various fields of study.
Vocabulary Expansion: Regular reading introduces readers to new words and phrases, improving vocabulary and language skills. A rich vocabulary enhances communication and writing abilities.
Improved Focus and Concentration: Reading requires sustained attention, helping to enhance focus and concentration levels. It can be especially beneficial for developing these skills in children.
Stress Reduction: Engaging in a good book can be a form of relaxation, reducing stress and promoting mental well-being. It provides an escape from daily worries and offers a sense of calm.
Enhanced Empathy: Reading fiction, in particular, allows readers to immerse themselves in the lives and experiences of fictional characters. This can lead to greater empathy and a better understanding of diverse perspectives.
Cultural Awareness: Books provide insights into different cultures, traditions, and historical contexts, fostering cultural awareness and tolerance.
Better Sleep: Establishing a reading routine before bedtime can signal the body that it’s time to relax and wind down, potentially improving sleep quality.
Creativity Boost: Reading encourages imagination and creativity by exposing readers to new ideas, scenarios, and possibilities. It can inspire creative thinking and problem-solving.
Entertainment and Escape: Reading can be highly entertaining, offering an escape into captivating stories, adventures, and fictional worlds. It’s a form of entertainment that requires only a book and one’s imagination.
Emotional Intelligence: Literature often explores complex emotions and human relationships, helping readers develop emotional intelligence and interpersonal skills.
Lifelong Learning: Reading fosters a lifelong love of learning. It encourages individuals to seek out new information, explore diverse subjects, and stay intellectually curious throughout their lives.
Improved Writing Skills: Exposure to well-written books can improve one’s own writing skills, teaching effective communication and storytelling techniques.
Career Advancement: Reading can be directly beneficial to one’s career by expanding knowledge in one’s field or by providing insights into leadership, management, and personal development.
Social Connection: Sharing book recommendations and discussing literature can foster social connections and build communities of readers.

A Lifelong Source of Pleasure and Relaxation

Beyond its cognitive and empathetic benefits, reading offers immense pleasure and relaxation. It provides a respite from the stresses of daily life, allowing readers to lose themselves in stories that inspire, entertain, and provoke thought. Whether it’s the thrill of a mystery, the allure of a romance, or the intrigue of a historical saga, reading offers a rich tapestry of experiences that enrich the soul and spark the imagination.

Encouraging Lifelong Learning

The habit of reading fosters a love of learning that can last a lifetime. It keeps the mind engaged and curious, constantly seeking new knowledge and insights. This love of learning is invaluable in a world where change is the only constant. It prepares individuals to adapt to new challenges, pursue continuous personal and professional development, and contribute meaningfully to their communities and the world at large.

The Role of Reading in Societal Progress

Reading plays a pivotal role in driving societal progress. It empowers individuals with the knowledge and skills needed to address complex challenges, advocate for justice and equity, and envision and work towards a better future. Literate societies are better equipped to participate in democratic processes, engage in critical public discourse, and foster innovation and creativity.

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English Compositions

Essay on My Hobby Reading Book [With PDF]

Book reading is one of the most prevalent hobbies among children. That’s why this topic has a certain reputation to come in as an essay writing topic in various types of examinations. But I have noticed that students of different classes face a few issues while writing essays on this very topic. Therefore I have decided to come up with a session explaining the very method of writing an essay on my hobby reading book most specifically for the students from class 6 to 9.

Essay on My Hobby Reading Book within 100 Words

My Hobby Reading Book

All my school friends have chosen something as their hobby while promoted to high school from the primary standard. I also chose book reading as my hobby. I love to read different kinds of books since my early childhood. I still remember that my mother used to tell me stories at night when I was a child.

Probably my passion for reading storybooks got developed from that time. I prefer reading detective as well as ghost stories. One of my teachers has asked me to read travel stories by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay. I have read the book Chander Pahar written by him. The character Shankar from the novel Chander Pahar has become very close to my heart.

Essay on My Hobby Reading Book within 200 Words

My Hobby Reading Book

Everybody in their life pursues something as a hobby. A hobby is something that any person is passionate about. People spend their leisure time pursuing a hobby. Like other people, I have chosen reading books as my hobby. This hobby of mine is not about reading regular academic books. Rather I love to read books on different topics and incidents happening all around the world.

Especially, I love to read books on real travel stories as well as adventures. My habit of reading books developed since I was a child. We had no television or mobile phone in our house but a lot of books. I used to read from them whatever I wanted to. Most of those I hardly understood. I still remember those days when my father used to buy me monthly child magazines like Anandamela and Suktara.

I still love reading comics from those magazines. My favorite comics are Tintin, Chacha Chowdhury as well as Nonte-Fonte. I have recently read a book named Aranyak written by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay. It is all about the life experience of the author in a remote rural location of India. In this book, the description of nature is so vivid that any passionate reader will get lost in an amazing experience. All my teachers as well as my parents appreciate this hobby.

Essay on My Hobby Reading Book within 300 Words

A hobby is something that a person pursues to take a break from the same monotonous regular routine. That’s why everyone chooses something as a hobby that they love. Because as wise men say that love can be the ultimate motivation to do something.

So, we all need to choose something as our hobby that we are passionate about. Without passion, all our efforts to do something creative go into the vein. Our hobbies necessarily can enrich us both physically and mentally. That’s why my father says that hobbies are needed to be chosen wisely and very carefully for proper utilization of both time and effort.

Hobbies can be of many different types. Many of my classmates have chosen singing, gardening, painting as their hobbies. My best friend Piyush chose stamps collection as his hobby. These all hobbies bring refreshment to them. Like my friends, I have also chosen reading books as my hobby. I enjoy my hobby the most.

I love to read about everything no matter what topic it is. Since my early childhood, I developed a passion for reading. My parents used to gift me so many books since then. Every year, I go to the Kolkata International Book Fair with my parents. Moreover, After getting promoted to high school from primary, I got exclusive student access to my school library.

Nowadays, I borrow more books from the library than buying them. Not only the school library but my father has also helped me to get a membership of the district library Khardah.

I love reading all kinds of books. But especially I am passionate about reading historical fiction. For this reason, Bengali writer Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay is one of my most favorite writers. Besides these, I also love to read adventure fiction as well as mythologies.

Essay on My Hobby Reading Book within 500 Words

What is a hobby? What a person should choose as a hobby? Before going deep into the discussion of my hobby, let’s talk about the hobby itself. A hobby is something that people do especially in their leisure time mostly for enjoyment. We do not expect to get paid for our hobbies.

These are some habits that come from inside us due to our natural internal tendency as well as passion. Hobbies include a wide range of activities. It can be collecting something like coins or stamps or leaves, fine arts activities like painting, dancing, Creative works like gardening, writing poetry, etc. Or it can simply be reading books, like what I have chosen as my hobby of life.

At the very beginning, I want to say that I literally admire my hobby, and one of my playschool teachers inspired me to fall in love with reading books when I was at my very early age. I still remember she used to bring me many kinds of colorful interesting books full of amazing stories as well as pictures.

At that age, I fond of those kinds of books. Later on, I came to know that those books are known as comics. I have read so many comics since my early childhood. Tintin, Phantom, Dennis the Menace, Hada Bhoda, Nonte-Phonte is a few among them. My parents always appreciate my hobby of reading books. For me, reading any book is the way of my utmost relaxation.

When I get tremendously bored of my regular monotonous life, at that point my storybooks help me to travel in some dream location being a part of some exciting adventure of imagination. After going to high school, I got exclusive access to my school’s students’ library and a different world opened there for me. From then, I borrow books so many kinds of books from my school library and read them thoroughly.

Here, I would like to mention my school librarian sir Mr. Paresh Pathak who helps me to choose the proper book according to my age and reading tendency. From my school library, I have read many works of great authors like Guru Rabindranath Tagore, Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay, Satyajit Ray, and many more.

Recently, I have developed a special interest in magic realism. Very recently, I was reading a work of the great Nobel laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The name of the book is very famous One Hundred Years of Solitude. It is an amazing work that led me to a different fantasy world along with the dark humorous touch of eternal truth.

I’ve also read some works of Franz Kafka. His famous work The Metamorphosis will be very close to my heart always. For these also all credit goes my school librarian sir. He first suggested me to read something unconventional out of the box.

I got the first book of Gabriel Garcia Marquez from him. Moreover, I learned about magic realism from him as well. I believe that no matter what happens with human beings, but books, stories, and realization are eternal. They will never abandon me in my entire life.

That was all about essay writing on my hobby reading books. Here in the session, I have tried to write some essays on the very topic following every method and all possible perspectives. Moreover, I have also tried to write them for students of different classes. Besides, I maintained the word limit relevant for various examinations.

Hope you found this session helpful as per your requirement. Let us know your valuable opinion as well as suggestions for this session in the comment section below. Thank you; see you again very soon.

Home — Essay Samples — Life — Reading Books — My Personal Passion: Favorite Books & Authors

Why I Like Reading Books: a Narrative

Categories: Reading Books

About this sample

Words: 1014 |

Published: Mar 14, 2019

Words: 1014 | Pages: 2 | 6 min read

Why i like reading (essay), my favorite type of books, works cited.

Coleridge, S. T. (1817). Biographia Literaria: Or Biographical Sketches of My Literary Life and Opinions. Restless Books.
Lawrence, D. H. (2000). Lady Chatterley's Lover. Wordsworth Editions.
Maas, S. J. (2012). Throne of Glass. Bloomsbury Publishing.
Orwell, G. (1949). 1984. Secker & Warburg.
Shakespeare, W. (2008). The Merchant's Tale. In The Canterbury Tales (2nd ed., pp. 121-134). Penguin Classics.
Stowe, H. B. (1852). Uncle Tom's Cabin. J. P. Jewett and Company.
Tolkein, J. R. R. (2012). The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollins.
Tonnard, M., & Van Kesteren, E. (2007). Reading Ed Ruscha: Novels. Ludion.
Wells, H. G. (1932). Brave New World. Chatto & Windus.
Wood, J. (2014). The Theatre of Absurd. Bloomsbury Publishing.

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Essay on Books for Students and Children

500 Words Essay on Books

Books are referred to as a man’s best friend . They are very beneficial for mankind and have helped it evolve. There is a powerhouse of information and knowledge. Books offer us so many things without asking for anything in return. Books leave a deep impact on us and are responsible for uplifting our mood.

This is why we suggest children read books from an early age to gain knowledge. The best part about books is that there are various types of books. One can read any type to gain different types of knowledge. Reading must be done by people of all ages. It not only widens our thinking but also enhances our vocabulary.

Different Genres of Books

There are different genres of books available for book readers. Every day, thousands of books are released in the market ranging from travel books to fictional books. We can pick any book of our interest to expand our knowledge and enjoy the reading experience.

Firstly, we have travel books, which tell us about the experience of various travelers. They introduce us to different places in the world without moving from our place. It gives us traveling tips which we can use in the future. Then, we have history books which state historical events. They teach about the eras and how people lived in times gone by.

Furthermore, we have technology books that teach us about technological developments and different equipment. You can also read fashion and lifestyle books to get up to date with the latest trends in the fashion industry.

Most importantly, there are self-help books and motivational books . These books help in the personality development of an individual. They inspire us to do well in life and also bring a positive change in ourselves. Finally, we have fictional books. They are based on the writer’s imagination and help us in enhancing our imagination too. They are very entertaining and keep us intrigued until the very end.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

Benefits of Reading Books

There are not one but various advantages of reading books. To begin with, it improves our knowledge on a variety of subjects. Moreover, it makes us wiser. When we learn different things, we learn to deal with them differently too. Similarly, books also keep us entertained. They kill our boredom and give us great company when we are alone.

Furthermore, books help us to recognize our areas of interest. They also determine our career choice to a great extent. Most importantly, books improve our vocabulary . We learn new words from it and that widens our vocabulary. In addition, books boost our creativity. They help us discover a completely new side.

In other words, books make us more fluent in languages. They enhance our writing skills too. Plus, we become more confident after the knowledge of books. They help us in debating, public speaking , quizzes and more.

In short, books give us a newer perspective and gives us a deeper understanding of things. It impacts our personality positively as well. Thus, we see how books provide us with so many benefits. We should encourage everyone to read more books and useless phones.

FAQs on Books

Q.1 State the different genres of books.

A.1 Books come in different genres. Some of them are travel books, history books, technology books, fashion and lifestyle books, self-help books, motivational books, and fictional books.

Q.2 Why are books important?

A.2 Books are of great importance to mankind. They enhance our knowledge and vocabulary. They keep us entertained and also widen our perspective. This, in turn, makes us more confident and wise.

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Why don’t straight men read novels?

Men often read non-fiction books in the name of self-improvement – but many are reluctant to pick up works of fiction.

Alex, 24, thinks reading for pleasure is a waste of time. Instead, he reads to learn about current affairs, maths, and Black history. Similarly, Finn*, 24, has only read one fictional book outside of his childhood. “I don’t really find the time to read, but if I do, it’s usually non-fiction,” he says.

Alex and Finn* both feel compelled to make ‘good’ use of their time – ‘good’ being a capitalist innuendo for ‘productive’. In our increasingly time-poor, grind-obsessed hellscape — 7-9 gym, 9-5 work, and 5-9 side hustle — coming up for air from being a cog and curling up with a novel just because you want to is a borderline sensual pleasure. “Our culture makes a fetish of practical outcomes, and perhaps because the outcomes of fiction-reading don’t patently lead to higher wages, it seems less worthy,” says Suzanne Keen, Professor of English at Scripps College.

Generally speaking, reading is an indulgence that women permit themselves more than men. In 2022, Deloitte predicted boys and men would continue to spend less time reading books and read them less frequently than women and girls. They were right: in 2023, women made up 80 per cent of the book-buying market in the UK, US, and Canada, and accounted for 65 per cent of all fiction purchases in the UK according to Nielson BookData. The bookish man is a rare species. Case in point: 1.2 million people follow the @hotdudesreading Instagram.

Meanwhile, masculinity continues to be in crisis . Men between the ages of 18 and 34 feel the most pressure of any generation to conform to ‘masculine’ behaviours. In the absence of a positive blueprint of how to exist in the post-MeToo world , a community of podcasting ‘manfluencers’, including ex-navy SEALs Jocko Willink and David Goggins and neuroscientist Dr Andrew Hubermann, have rushed in to promote their idea of what masculinity should look like. Self-improvement, ambition, and ‘growth mindsets’ are the banner messaging of this male-coded media world where Andrew Tate reigns supreme and the aim of the game is to optimise every waking moment to become a financially successful ‘sigma’. Doubtless many men enjoy the fact that reading non-fiction gives them an excuse to peacock their newfound knowledge and mansplain their latest read to their next Hinge date, too (bonus points if it’s Capitalist Realism ).

This idea of the hyper-capitalist man with no time for something as ‘pointless’ as reading began to take root in the Victorian era. In the 19th century, reading novels developed a reputation as a frivolous and feminised activity as bourgeois women, imprisoned in the private sphere, took up reading bodice-ripping paperbacks as a pastime. Conversely, ‘serious men’ of the public sphere incubated capitalist messaging: any interest in reading had to be justified by practical utility. While for most of British history, men’s literacy rates far outstripped women’s, by 1900 literacy was actually more diffused among women. As author Leah Price put it in her book How to Do Things with Nooks in Victorian Britain : “Once a sign of economic power, reading is now the province of those whose time lacks market value.”

It is a cultural hangover that persists. A “cult of productivity is still imposed more on men than women,” says Dr Alistair Brown, Assistant Professor of Digital Humanities and Modern Literature at Durham University. “[Non-fiction] seems to have more immediate or meaningful returns on the investment of time.” Consequently, men buy more: in 2023, men accounted for 55 per cent of non-fiction book sales, Nielsen BookData tells Dazed.

Today’s problem also has its roots in the gender encampments of childhood. Boys are less likely to have male reading role models and are generally nudged by parents, teachers, and product marketers in the direction of other pastimes, particularly sports. By comparison, girls are encouraged to read and have a model of peer-to-peer engagement through their mums’ book clubs. So, naturally, girls spend more time reading and reading fiction than boys . This is, as ever, an intersectional issue: boys on free school meals read less than anyone else .

By the time their tween years swings around, a line is firmly drawn. Chris*, 21, who has recently completed his second fiction book in ten years, said he stopped reading at the age of 11 despite previously being a fan of fantasy books because he had “better things to do.” Naturally, such a stereotype cannibalises itself and ends up being reflected by the market. Young adult fiction is the near-total domain of the teenage girl — including what is made, marketed, sold, and read.

As we cut off the legs off future readers, “our culture closes off opportunities for boys and men,” says Professor Keen, who is also an expert in narrative empathy. “Consciously or not [we promote] a model of masculinity that is less introspective, less attuned to others, and less contemplative.”

Reading books is for losers who are afraid to learn from life. So they try and learn from the life OTHERS have lived. But you never REALLY learn unless you lived it. You must feel it to believe it. Books are a total waste of time. Education for cowards. — Andrew Tate (@Cobratate) December 13, 2022

Could reading stories offer an alternative route through the masculinity crisis? By creating “a safe space for allowing oneself to feel, with no strings attached,” Professor Keen suggests that reading fiction is the diametric opposite of the stale stoicism of the manosphere. It is a form of immersion therapy that demands you be present and forget yourself to a meditative end. You also become “part of a community,” which “helps you build mental companions as a bulwark against loneliness.” Accordingly, there are measurable mental health benefits such as lower stress levels, higher self-esteem, and lower rates of depression.

If men read, it helps society at large. Reading fiction opens your eyes to uncomfortable truths and unexpected perspectives that you may otherwise not have sought out. Books can surprise you by “smuggling in knowledge through the backdoor of an enjoyable and engaging story,” increasing the possibility of critical thinking when encountering the topic again, according to Dr Brown. When you read, you practice perspective-taking, adopting the inner lives of characters as your own and walking around in their shoes – something there isn’t time for with the visual immediacy of other media like film .

Reading fiction ultimately leaves you feeling full up, a stark contrast to self-improvement imperatives that demand you be more than you already are. Carving out time for such a creative pursuit “refreshes the spirit and expands our sense of possibilities,” says Professor Keen. And in case it isn’t obvious, this is a valuable use of time for men too. Men are not inert vessels for potential economic capital that needs to be squeezed out. So instead of retreating further into the hollow temple of productivity, might we suggest a prescribed course of Fourth Wing for all?

*Name has been changed

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Donald Trump

My Uncle Donald Trump Told Me Disabled Americans Like My Son ‘Should Just Die’

W hen my uncle was elected President , I recognized what a highly privileged position I would be in. I would have some access to the White House. And as long as that was true, I wanted to make sure I used that access for something positive. I was eager to champion something my wife, Lisa, and I were deeply passionate about, something we lived every day: the challenges for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities and their families.

Our son William, our third child, was born on June 30, 1999. Within 24 hours, he went from seemingly healthy to fighting for his life in the NICU. Raising him was different from the start. William was diagnosed at three months with infantile spasms, a rare seizure disorder which in William's case altered his development physically and cognitively. We had so many questions: What would the future hold for someone like William? How far could he go? How much could he learn? Would he ever have the chance to do the things that other children do?

We just didn’t know. It took 15 years before his medical team could accurately pinpoint the cause of his condition: a KCNQ2 mutation, a genetic misfire that the doctors called a potassium channel deletion.

In our journey with William, Lisa and I had become close to some truly inspiring parents and dedicated advocates who were doing amazing work to improve the day-to-day reality for families like ours. It’s a huge lift for caregivers, not to mention the constant need to mitigate expenses . There are so many different demands and challenges. But there are things that the government can do—some things that can only be done by the government, both federal and state. We wanted to bring knowledgeable people to the White House, to see if we could make a difference.

Lisa reached out to my cousin Ivanka, who was working in the White House as an advisor to the President. Ivanka got right back to her and said she’d be happy to help. She provided a contact for Ben Carson , the retired neurosurgeon who was secretary of housing and urban development. We brought several talented advocates with us for a meeting with Carson and members of his senior staff in April 2017. “Look,” I said as we got started, “I’m the least important person in the room.” I wanted the focus to be on the others, who knew a lot more than I did. They immediately started floating ideas, which was exactly why we were there. Our collective voice was being heard. It was a start.

Fred Trump III and Donald in the Oval Office, 2018

In January 2020, just before COVID hit, Lisa, myself, and a team of advocates met with Chris Neeley, who headed the President’s Committee for People with Intellectual Disabilities, a much-needed federal advisory committee that promotes policies and initiatives that support independent and lifelong inclusion . We discussed the need for all medical schools to include courses that focus on people with intellectual and developmental disabilities . We emphasized how crucial it was for hospitals and other acute-care facilities to help patients transition from pediatric to adult services. We emphasized the importance of collecting sufficient data to explain medically complex disorders. This was not about more government spending. It was about smarter investing and greater efficiency.

We spent the next few months making calls and talking with officials and gathering our own recommendations, giving special attention to the critical need for housing support for people with disabilities. We were back in Washington in May.

By this time, COVID was raging. We were all masked up and COVID tested on the way into the White House Cabinet Room. Once we got inside, we sat down with Alex Azar , the administration’s secretary of health and human services, and Brett Giroir, the assistant secretary for health, both of whom served on the White House Coronavirus Task Force. The promising agency motto stated: HHS: Enhancing the Health and Well-Being of All Americans.

Sharp, direct, and to the point, Azar exhibited my kind of efficiency with no time to waste. His first question was, “OK, why are you here?”

I made a brief introduction. Our group included a leading doctor and several highly qualified advocates. What followed was a great discussion. Something clicked with Giroir—an idea for a program everyone could agree on that would cut through the bureaucracy and control costs and also yield better and more efficient medical outcomes.

Excellent. We were making progress.

“Really appreciate your coming in,” Azar finally said, more warmly than he had sounded at the start. “I know we’re going to see the President.”

The meeting I had assumed would be a quick handshake hello with Donald had turned into a 45-minute discussion in the Oval Office with all of us—Azar, Giroir, the advocates, and me. I never expected to be there so long. Donald seemed engaged, especially when several people in our group spoke about the heart-wrenching and expensive efforts they’d made to care for their profoundly disabled family members, who were constantly in and out of the hospital and living with complex arrays of challenges .

Donald was still Donald, of course. He bounced from subject to subject—disability to the stock market and back to disability. But promisingly, Donald seemed genuinely curious regarding the depth of medical needs across the U.S. and the individual challenges these families faced. He told the secretary and the assistant secretary to stay in touch with our group and to be supportive.

After I left the office, I was standing with the others near the side entrance to the West Wing when Donald’s assistant caught up with me. “Your uncle would like to see you,” she said.

Azar was still in the Oval Office when I walked back in. “Hey, pal,” Donald said. “How’s everything going?”

“Good,” I said. “I appreciate your meeting with us.”

“Sure, happy to do it.”

He sounded interested and even concerned. I thought he had been touched by what the doctor and advocates in the meeting had just shared about their journey with their patients and their own family members. But I was wrong.

“Those people . . . ” Donald said, trailing off. “The shape they’re in, all the expenses, maybe those kinds of people should just die.”

I truly did not know what to say. He was talking about expenses. We were talking about human lives. For Donald, I think it really was about the expenses, even though we were there to talk about efficiencies, smarter investments, and human dignity.

I turned and walked away.

When William was 9 years old, Lisa and I met with Donald and a medical fund was created for William's care by the Trump Family, a fund that was crucial to our ability to support him.

In the summer of 2018, William was in the hospital for almost three weeks with a serious case of life-threatening pneumonia. He was 19 and very sick. It was incredibly frightening for Lisa and me—and for his brother and sister too. It was always hard to know if moments like these could compromise his health to the point that we would lose him. These are the times that you reach for all the strength you have.

Fred Trump III, William, and Lisa in the NICU

William came home with oxygen and a feeding tube. After more than two weeks on a ventilator, he needed to learn how to eat all over again. We were too often in these setback situations, but you move forward the best you can.

It’s times like these when family support is most needed and appreciated. At every opportunity, we let my aunts and uncles know how grateful we were for the medical fund for William’s care and recovery. We sent pictures and updates, as we had in the past. We got no personal responses, which was the norm. It was the dedicated support and genuine love of caregivers that helped us the most.

Uncle Robert died in 2020 , and the medical fund for William continued. It was enormously helpful with our home-care costs and medical expenses, and we were always grateful to my father’s siblings for contributing. But even before Robert’s death, their interest had seemed to begin waning. My cousin Eric, who was the administrator, called me to say the fund was running low. Donald was the only one contributing consistently. Eric said he’d been getting some resistance from Maryanne, Elizabeth, and Ann Marie, Robert’s widow. I really didn’t look forward to these calls.

“Why don’t you call Donald?” Eric said. “Talk to him about it.”

I thanked Eric for the heads-up and promised I would.

Soon thereafter, I was up at Briarcliff Manor, home of the Trump National Golf Club in Westchester, N.Y. Donald happened to be there.

He was talking with a group of people. I didn’t want to interrupt. I just said hi on my way through the clubhouse. I called him later that afternoon, and he answered.

I got him up to speed on what Eric had told me. I said I’d heard the fund for William was running low, and unfortunately, the expenses certainly were not easing up as our son got older. In fact, with inflation and other pressures, the needs were greater than they’d been. “We’re getting some blowback from Maryanne and Elizabeth and Ann Marie. We may need your help with this. Eric wanted me to give you a call.”

Donald took a second as if he was thinking about the whole situation.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, letting out a sigh. “He doesn’t recognize you. Maybe you should just let him die and move down to Florida.”

Wait! What did he just say? That my son doesn’t recognize me? That I should just let him die?

Did he really just say that? That I should let my son die . . . so I could move down to Florida?

I’m usually pretty good at getting my head around things that other people say, even when I don’t agree with them. But this was a tough one. This was my son.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Donald say that. It wasn’t far off from what he’d said that day in the Oval Office after our meeting with the advocates. Only that time, it was other people’s children who should die. This time, it was my son.

I didn’t want to argue with him. I knew there was no point in that, not at the same time I was calling for his help. I tried to keep my cool.

“No, Donald,” I said. “He does recognize me.”

Donald’s comment was appalling. It hurt to hear him say that. But it also explained why Lisa and I felt so strongly about advocating for our son and why we wanted to help other people understand what it was like to raise a child like William. A lot of people just don’t know.

People with these disabilities are perceived as less than in so many ways. That attitude is everywhere, even at the highest levels of policy and politics.

William deserves a life just like anyone else, and to that end, I knew I had to advocate for him in every way possible. I might never change Donald’s mind or change the mind of anyone who lacked love and compassion for those whose voices couldn’t be heard and whose lives were fully dependent on others. But I knew what I could do. I could offer my voice, my experience, and my strength to push forward for those who needed it.

The barriers are everywhere , even in communities that are generally supportive, like ours. There are still doorways that can’t accommodate wheelchairs. It is still hard to find meaningful day programs that foster independence with learning, socialization, and assistive technology. The whole narrative still needs to change.

I knew that acceptance and tolerance would only come with public education and awareness. Donald might never understand this, but at least he had been open to our advocating through the White House. That was something. If we couldn’t change his feelings about William, that was his loss. He would never feel the love and connection that William offered us daily.

(Editor’s note: TIME reached out to former President Trump for a response to the description of events in this piece and did not receive a reply.)

Copyright © 2024 by Frederick Crist Trump III. From the forthcoming book ALL IN THE FAMILY: The Trumps and How We Got This Way by Fred Trump, to be published by Gallery Books, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC. Printed by permission.

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Read an Excerpt From Ann Leary's Book That Made Husband Denis Leary Laugh 'So F---ing Loud' (Exclusive)

The bestselling author's new essay collection, 'I've Tried Being Nice' spans family, fame, recovery and learning not to be a people-pleaser

Angela Weiss/WireImage; Marysue Rucci Books

Lots of husbands would be embarrassed to read a book their wife had written that covers — among other things — that time they almost got divorced, disastrous ballroom dancing lessons and their social snafus as they learned to navigate fame, family and all that comes with it.

But Denis Leary isn't that kind of husband.

His wife Ann Leary is brutally honest in her newest book, I've Tried Being Nice , out June 4 — but not at anyone's expense.

"Anything that I write about my family, they get to see before it's published anywhere, because if they don't like it, I don't wanna publish it," the author, 61, tells PEOPLE in a joint interview with Denis, 66. "Writing essays, you have to be so careful about people's feelings, like your husband's and your children's and your parents'. You have to tell your truth, but I like to be mindful of the privacy of people in my life."

The book spans a range of topics from serious to borderline-slapstick, mostly centered around the author's family, marriage, their life together and trying to be less of a people-pleaser.

The PEOPLE Puzzler crossword is here! How quickly can you solve it? Play now !

"I do touch on my childhood a little bit in one of the early essays, but most of it is about our family, being married to Dennis, having our great children and trying not to embarrass them too much by describing our lives," the author adds.

Running like an undercurrent to the laughs, as happens in so many of Ann's books, comes a sneaky dose of wisdom.

"I kind of explored the difference between being nice, which is actually a very good trait, and being a people-pleaser, which is more of like being insecure," she explains. "And it doesn't really come from a place of of altruism or kindness, or a higher level of emotion. It comes from selfish angst and fear."

Her husband, who Ann calls "my kindest critic ... and my biggest cheerleader-fan," says that it's "always exciting when I get to read whatever draft I'm allowed to read of something." He got an early look at these essays before publication, in pretty much the same form the reader will see them.

"I'm proud of her, but it's not the kind of writing I can really do, so a lot of times I'm just sort of in awe of how she could take something and turn it into something so funny or beautiful," Denis says. "I was laughing so f---ing loud at so many things, especially in the newer essays that I didn't know. But, man, this book! It really made me laugh."

The couple, who share children Jack, 34, and daughter Devin, 32, have always liked to laugh — together and, occasionally, in good-natured fun at each other.

"You have to laugh," Ann says, of what gets her through the tough stuff. "I'm actually annoyed when people don't have a sense of humor, I actually find it personally offensive."

Below, in an exclusive excerpt shared with PEOPLE, read a case of mistaken identity with endearing results.

Never miss a story — sign up for PEOPLE's free daily newsletter to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer , from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories.

Marysue Rucci Books

Years ago, at a dinner party, I was seated next to a very sweet, nebbishy-looking guy who seemed a little out of his element. Ali Wentworth and George Stephanopoulos were also at our table. They had been dating for less than two weeks. Now their daughters are in college, but how can that be? This party seems like it was yesterday. The thing about humiliating situations is that they always seem so fresh. Memories of my finer moments such as … well … none come to mind right now, but they all seem to fade. Shameful moments have a way of crystallizing in my memory, perfectly intact, forever.

My shy dinner companion at that party was concerned that there wouldn’t be anything for him to eat, as he was vegan. He was so quiet and unassuming. He didn’t seem to know anybody, and I assumed that he was somebody’s plus-one. A famous actor’s cousin, maybe visiting from out of town.

I realized he was overwhelmed by the dazzling luminaries in the room, so I decided to take him under my wing. I asked one of the waitstaff to prepare him a salad, and then I explained to him who all the important people were. On his other side was a very famous actress. I told him that he shouldn’t be shy—he should introduce himself to her. He told me he already had.

At one point I asked him what he did for work. He told me that he was a musician.

“Wow, that’s really cool,” I said, imagining him in an orchestra pit, his upper lip quivering above a flute, or perhaps on a subway platform strumming on a mandolin.

When we left the party, Denis and I shared a ride with Jon Stewart and his wife, Tracey .

“What was Moby like?” Tracey asked me when we were all in the back of the car. Denis and Jon leaned in toward me with expectant smiles.

“Moby was there?” I asked. “I love Moby!”

I’d been listening to a Moby playlist all summer; it was pretty much all I listened to that summer. I guess I’d never seen his photograph, because — yes, Moby had been my sweet, shy dinner companion.

I began confessing to the others, in a voice rising hysterically, that I had just schooled Moby on the ins and outs of fame. I had just promised Moby that if he had a sample CD of one of his songs, I would personally make sure my husband Denis listened to it.

“Denis Leary,” I’d said to him, with a humble little laugh. I don’t like name-dropping.

Then I said, and my face is flaming now just typing these words: “I can’t promise anything, but if he likes one of your songs — who knows, maybe he’ll use it on his show.” I think I even offered some wisdom about how, in show business, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.

God bless Moby. He didn’t laugh in my face and tell me he’d never heard of Denis Leary or his damn TV show. He thanked me for my thoughtfulness. He asked me about myself.

This reminds me of something else I’ve learned on the sidelines of fame. Famous people have an undeservedly bad reputation as a group. They’re always accused of being entitled, stupid, selfish and narcissistic. Many are.

But the most entitled jerks at the Emmys or the Golden Globes or even celebrity-filled dinner parties tend to be actors who people besides me don’t recognize, along with lawyers, agents and certain publicists. These jerks will snatch a seat away from an elderly woman with a walker because she doesn’t belong in the VIP area. They push and shove their way to the front of the press line where nobody wants to take their picture.

The most talented celebrities, in my experience, tend to be the most generous and kind. I’m talking about Michael J. Fox and Tracy Pollan , now. I’m talking about Morgan Freeman , Meryl Streep , Robert DeNiro — and all the other gentle giants of the celebrity kingdom. They’re thoughtful and kind, they wait their turn in line. They offer their seat to the pregnant or elderly. They turn away from the famous actress at a dinner party to say to the awkward, bumbling actor’s wife — the nobody seated next to them —“Tell me about yourself.”

I've Tried Being Nice: Essays by Ann Leary is out June 4 from Marysue Rucci Books, and is available for preorder now, wherever books are sold.

Five Nights at Freddy's: VIP, An AFK Book (Interactive Novel #0‪)‬

Publisher description.

Just in time for the 10th anniversary of Five Nights at Freddy's, head to the Pizzaplex in this interactive novel in which YOU decide what happens! Get ready for an all-new Five Nights at Freddy’s experience! You the reader are Devon, and you’ve won VIP passes to the hottest place in town – Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex. These all-you-can-eat, all-expenses-paid tickets are guided by digital companion “Very Informative Pig” and are every kid’s dream. But does your VIP host have something more sinister in mind? With multiple endings and two difficulty settings, this one-of-a-kind, free eBook is a uniquely entertaining experience for any Freddy fan and the perfect way to get ready for the September 2024 launch of interactive novel “The Week Before”!

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Vance’s Links to the Project 2025 Leader Complicate Trump’s Attempts at Distance

Donald Trump disavowed the set of conservative plans after it became a popular target for Democrats, but his running mate, JD Vance, wrote a foreword for a forthcoming book by its principal architect.

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JD Vance standing at a lectern and resting his left hand on it and looking slightly left. Two American flags are behind him.

By Charles Homans

Even as Donald J. Trump is trying to distance himself from the Heritage Foundation-led Project 2025, his running mate’s contribution to a new book by the project’s principal architect is complicating his efforts.

“ Dawn’s Early Light ,” a forthcoming book by the Heritage Foundation’s president, Kevin D. Roberts , calling for a “second American Revolution,” features a foreword by Senator JD Vance, the Ohio Republican whom Mr. Trump tapped as his running mate in July.

“In the fights that lay ahead, these ideas are an essential weapon,” Mr. Vance writes in his introduction, which was obtained and published online by The New Republic on Tuesday. The book is set for publication in September.

Mr. Vance announced in June that he had written the foreword for Mr. Roberts, whose think tank became an influential bastion of conservative policymaking during Ronald Reagan’s presidency and enjoyed exceptional influence during Mr. Trump’s time in office, providing a staffing pipeline for his administration.

But Mr. Vance’s endorsement of the book became more politically fraught after Mr. Trump publicly disavowed Project 2025, a set of sweeping policy proposals for a hoped-for Republican presidency that the think tank began preparing more than two years ago under Mr. Roberts’s direction. The project, which has been billed by Heritage as an attack on the “deep state” and proposes disbanding multiple federal agencies, excluding abortion from health care and ending an array of climate change programs, has become a popular target for Democrats.

Will Martin, a spokesman for Mr. Vance, wrote in an email Wednesday that “the foreword has nothing to do with Project 2025.” Mr. Vance “has plenty of disagreements with what they’re calling for,” Mr. Martin wrote, adding: “Only President Trump will set the policy agenda for the next administration.”

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