In a desperate quest for inspiration, I was perusing “The Daily Beast” one day when I came across an interesting piece. My eyes fixed on the screen as I read the title: “Media Gallery: The Best-Read Presidents.” I’ve often conceived the fantasy that, if it were up to me, I would rate everyone—not just presidents—according to his or her reading habits. But, alas, here was an opportunity to fulfill at least a portion of my dream by judging the U.S. presidents in proportion to their levels of literacy, which is why I eagerly clicked on the link.
Before opening the presidential slide show, I had already predicted what personalities would comprise its contents. “Thomas Jefferson, obviously,” I thought; “Lincoln, Reagan, JFK (we attended the same prep school, after all), Washington, Clinton, Madison and John Adams.” My mental list was rooted mostly on these men’s accomplishments rather than familiarity with their literary mastery; but in some instances, my choices were also informed by my knowledge of their personal histories. Thus, my assumption was that since these were all admirable, intellectual, talented men, they must have had a profound relationship with books.
All but one of my predictions was present on the list. The excluded president was, not surprisingly—for “The Beast” does tend to sink its claws on the right side of its prey more often than on the left, if you catch my drift—Ronald Reagan. Nevertheless, there were a few constituents of the gallery whom I would never have anticipated.
Take James Buchanan, for example: “Considered the worst president in our history, James Buchanan not only loved reading, but also being read to,” writes “The Daily Beast.” What about Millard Fillmore? To be honest, I had forgotten of his existence until I read his name on this list. Ditto for Rutherfod Hayes, whoever that is (in my defense, I am not an American citizen). However, these men were apparently “voracious” readers, and therefore qualified as three of the nineteen most literally adept presidents in U.S. history.
Needless to say, the slide show of “The Best-Read Presidents” disturbed my pre-established standards for judging others. How was I supposed to determine whether or not someone was worth my time, if a person’s appreciation of literature was an inaccurate indicator of intellectual substance? What a catastrophe it would be if I adopted a James Buchanan or a Millard Fillmore as a friend—not only for the embarrassment of being seen with someone named “Millard,” but also because his ability to recite the classics would probably surpass his ability to socialize with others.
Since this distressing experience, I have decided to discontinue my practice of estimating a person’s value according to his or her reading habits, but I cannot be convinced against admiring insatiable readers who use their intellect to surpass others’ expectations. Perhaps these are the men who read the right books, or maybe they possess the precise combination of intellectual prowess and valor that is required to influence a population.
At any rate, these are the men who inspire me, and whom I would be honored to consider my friends.
