You Must Read This

You Must Read This!

Well, not really, though of course I would like you to read it. There are very few things in life that we must do. My father taught me that. 

Still, we encounter this urgent message - or a variation of it - all the time. Sometimes the email, or snailmail, really is worthwhile. Sometimes we’re glad we read whatever it was the sender found so urgent. We learned something, we saved some money, we averted a loss or a danger, we improved a relationship, we improved ourselves. Often, though, the “must read” is a waste of our time. Oh, the sender found it worthwhile, maybe inspirational, perhaps transformative. But for us - eh. Not so much. Been there, done that. Yawn.

And then there’s the “must read” that’s not only silly, but stupid - or downright offensive. What gets into some people?

It’s such a simple phrase: “You Must Read This.” Only four words. Yet it tells us a lot about how we think, what we want. And it tells us a lot about what those who use it think, what they want. 

The phrase itself is a marketing tool, obviously. It’s a way to get our attention in a crowded field, where there’s all kinds of distractions and things crying for consideration. If we listen to radio announcers and advertisers, they have a similar set of phrases. They can’t say, “you must read this” - well, they can, if they’re promoting a book, but usually the radio folk want you to listen, to not change channels. (Anyone remember, “Don’t touch that dial”?) Visual attention-getters probably also have catch-shots, pictures that elicit a visceral turn-to. 

Things we’re hard-wired to respond to don’t always hold our attention for more than the reflex response. Once the conscious mind takes over, tacky tricks get glided over. We don’t necessarily take the next step, from the equivalent of “You Must Read This” to reading (as opposed to glancing over) and then to acting on what we’ve read. It’s like the original telephone ring-tone. It was meant to jar us; it was designed to subliminally force us to stop whatever we were doing and answer it. But once past the initial reflex response, it’s not so hard to ignore the telephone ringing - not if we’re doing something else equally or more important.

“You Must Read This” has three parts: You, Must Read, and This. 

There’s a reason why such messages are in the 2nd person. Rephrase it and you (YOU) will see why: “Everyone must read this.” “I must (had to) read this.” Any grammarian or rhetorician should recognize why: “You” makes it personal, intimate, direct, specific. English doesn’t distinguish between 2nd person singular and 2nd person plural any more (except the Southern, ‘y’all’ - ‘you all’ - which may be making a comeback). But the eye-to-eye of “you” remains, in certain circumstances, the most powerful of emotional pronouns. Even in a song (phrase) such as “And I love her,” there’s an implied you - an audience being addressed. Antony’s “Friends…” speech works so well because it’s all about the “you.”

We like being the audience. We like attention. When one student waves his hand and makes “call on me” noises, the teacher loves it. Someone’s paying attention. Someone cares about what she has to say. But the other students also pay attention. Some gladly. What interesting thing is the student going to say? Will she make us laugh? Vicariously, we share in the attention getting-and-giving exchange. Some students resent the hand-waver, not necessarily because the hand-waver knows the answer (that, too), but mainly because the hand-waver’s getting the attention. I want mine.

Must Read equals it’s important. It’s another attention-getter, but of a different sort. “Must Read” is not directed at us, but at the third person, the thing, in all this. Must Read appeals to the bandwagon effect, our desire not to miss out, our need to be included. But it’s another way to make us feel important. It moves the “you” into the “us,” letting us into the inner circle, sharing the secret.

This is the thing itself. It may or may not be all that important. But unless it’s a life-or-death “must read,” it doesn’t matter. It’s like a plot device - a McGuffin, as some writers call it. It’s the way to get from here to there. The object is to sell something to you, to get you to buy into an idea or purchase a product or whatever. The “This” you must read isn’t the object itself, or the idea. It’s the way there. (The secret letter isn’t the point of the plot. It’s the device to get Elizabeth and Darcy together. A flower dropped in the road would do as well.)

This brings us to why “You Must Read This.” Or, what’s in this blog post for you (aside from all the wit and wisdom you’ve already received ☺)? 

I think we need to consider what calls to us, and why. When we literally turn our attention to something, we are also turning it away from something else. The attraction is also a distraction. It’s important to make conscious decisions, not just about which entertainment to enjoy, for instance, but whether the allure of the trailer is really worth out time. A lot of people are crying for our attention, insisting that we must read (or hear) this. 

But must we, really? Do we want to? 

There’s a difference between the cry of a child, real or metaphoric, and the cry of the barker. 

So if you really must read this, do read between the lines.