A few years ago I completed a masters degree; however, since that time I have been employed at a job that tends not to incorporate masters (and indeed undergrad) level philosophy. As a result, perhaps, of this I have found myself reading less and less intellectual work (and spending less and less time with literature in general). I long to get back into an intellectual mindset, but am having difficulty 'reading'. I have tried various different approaches - from attempting to get through Russell's <i>History of Western Philosophy</i>, to simply trying to read at least one text by each of the 'greats', but each time I find myself glancing at the texts for about half an hour and then losing concentration. Ideas that I would once understand quite quickly have become hieroglyphs that I cannot translate. Put simply, I am having trouble reading philosophy philosophically. I am not looking for a 'quick fix' solution to this problem (as I do not think that there exist such things) - however, do you have any recommendations as to what I could do? Do you think either of the above techniques might prove worthwhile? I realise that it will be me who discovers the 'right way', but I am in need of a little help - I miss reading on a critical level, and often worry that I might not be as able as I once was (if I was even ever able at all). thanks

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Reading philosophy can be difficult even for those of us deeply engaged in the profession, so don't feel bad that you are finding it difficult. In fact, most of us who do lots of reading of these materials actually don't "go it alone" in the way you are trying to do--we read, then discuss with others, which often helps us to avoid misunderstanding (as well as motivates us to continue, when the going gets slow).

So here are a couple of suggestions:

(1) Find others who are interested in reading these kinds of materials. Then figure out what you want to "assign" to yourselves as readings, and meet once a week (or once a month, or...the main thing is to have a regular schedule that works for the people involved, and to which they can commit themselves) to discuss what you have read, and to consider what you want to read and discuss next.

(2) Take an evening class at your local community college. This will get you back into practice, and will give you (in the classroom and in the person of the instructor) a kind of "community of minds" to work through the readings with.

Other ideas--try to do your reading at different times of the day. If you wait until you are tired and in bed at night...well, what do you expect? Try reading and taking careful notes, or even writing a few sentences for each page you read in which you explicate what the author has argued on that page. I find that writing (even notes) is a good way to maintain focus, because it makes me more actively engaged in the reading.

Good luck!

A quick addition: there are online, email based reading groups. These involve people all over the world slowly reading their way through and discussing a text of mutual interest.

I’d approach the problem in a completely different way. I suspect thatthe problem that you are facing is that none of the philosophical worksthat you are now attempting to read has obvious relevance to your lifeas you now live it– to your career, to your personal relationships, toyour choices about what and where to eat, to your investmentstrategies, to your vacation plans, to your commute, to your life inyour community, etc. Ifso, it's not surprising that it’s hard to maintain interest.

Iwould begin, not with philosophy, but with some interesting non-fictionthat is more obviously related to what your life is all about. Ipredict that you will find--such is the nature of philosophy-- that itwill raise interesting philosophical questions that you will feelcompelled to explore.

Let me offer just one example. I just finished reading Barry Schwartz’s recent The Paradox of Choice: Why Less is More.Schwartz is a psychology professor at Swarthmore, not a philosopher.But this book raises all sorts of interesting philosophical questions.In it, Schwartz argues that the wonderful multiplicity of options thatan affluent capitalist society offers us and the sort of freedom ofchoice that we enjoy that encourages a ‘make sure that I have the verybest’ attitude toward our friends, lovers, family, education, andcareer is making each of us miserable, or at least, less happy than wewould be if we had less freedom of choice.

How could this thesis nothave important implications for our own lives and the society that weassume is best? How could we be so mistaken about what makes us feelgood? While Schwartz paints a dark picture of our current situation, ishe right, and what really are the implications, both personal andpolitical, of his thesis? Should we seek less autonomy both personallyand politically? Should our political leaders limit our choices for thesake of our own good? What’s at stake in such a choice? Do thepsychologicalstudies on which he relies really support the conclusions that hereaches about our welfare? How can I tell whether I am well-off or not?Does it really matter?

All of a sudden, by reading onevery accessible and provocative work of non-philosophical non-fiction,we are deep in the thick of philosophy of mind, value theory, politicalphilosophy, decision theory, and epistemology in order to understandits implications. To sort through these questions, we need to look atthe very best philosophy that is available to us, and I’ll bet, onceyou see what is at stake, you won’t so easily lose interest.

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