Yes, I finally did some research work!  I have two very fat, very worthy and, frankly, very dull, books that I need to read.  They sit on my desk at church or on my settee at home and scowl at me menacingly.  These intimidating tomes have the ability to paralyse my best endeavours simply by being there, so on Saturday I turned away from them and focused on a slim volume of short essays, with positive results.  I only did a couple of hour's work, but I think it was a useful couple of hours, and may finally have broken the psychological stranglehold of worthy-but-dull-ness.

The essay I read was looking at the history of reading and seeking to try to answer some of the what, why, where, when, how questions that arose.  It then noted that its findings needed to be brought into dialogue with those from literary theory to see what emerged.  It sounded fascinating, relevant to my work, and some of it got my grey matter going, which must be a good thing.

Seemingly, as far back as the 17th century lots of fairly ordinary people did learn to read even if they did not learn to write.  Focusing on life in France, the writer noted that people learned to read in Latin the few texts they needed for participation in church worship - so they may not have understood one word of what they read but they could make a stab at reading it and follow the mass on a Sunday.  A bit like me trying to read Czech or Finnish I guess.

Reading was, it seems a very communal activity.  We probably all know about monks having someone read sacred texts to them at meal times, but evidence seemingly suggests that even relatively lowly artisans would have someone to read to them as they worked (not unlike the radio in the background nowadays).  The idea of the lone reader, silently imbibing a text in the privacy of a garret evidently did not exist until much later ... or if it did, was not the norm.

Books were expensive, but with printing and the emergence of non-religious publications, available and valued by any who access to them.  A bit like toddlers with favourite bedtime stories, it seems that 17th, 18th and even 19th century Europeans read the same books over and over again, savouring the familiar and, perhaps, spotting new nuances over time.  Books helped them make meaning of their own lives, but the 'how to' book (and its implications for the reading of sacred texts) was a long way off.

All of this seems interesting to my research for many reasons.

Firstly, from a methodological perspective it challenges, or at least critiques, the concept of a single implied reader; instead there is the possibility of a 'corporate reader.'  That feels quite exciting from the point of view of thinking about Baptists reading history together to aid their theological reflection and how early (17th/18th century) sources might fit into that.  It also impacts on my desire to develop a new approach to writing the history - which needs to take into account this intent.

Secondly, it intrigues me greatly when I think of the 17th century texts I've already read and how they are presented as conversations.  If these books were read aloud to an 'audience' they become almost more like plays or drama than straight forward prose.  Messrs Keach and Marlow each postulated unnamed characters to debate the topic of hymn-singing.  How were these books read, I wonder?  Was it two voices (I almost hope it was) and did they 'act' or simply read?  And what did the audience do?  Did they listen and then discuss or did they interrupt and join in?  It's fascinating to wonder.  Well it is for me.

What I am beginning to speculate is that, almost by chance, my decision to focus on this late pre-Modern/early-Modern period where books were read and discussed communally (so the contemporary reading group is demonstration of there being nothing new under the sun) is actually ideal for my work.  By using sources and resources that may well suppose communal reading and corporate reflection, I may find styles and approaches that adapt for twenty-first century British Baptists.  Whether that means books per se, or creative use of drama, poetry, film or whatever, I am far from clear.  But it's kind of exciting, and makes me feel that just maybe I can look those big scary books in the knee-caps and give them a go after all!