“You’ve never read Around the World in 80 Days? Really?!”

“Yes,” I sheepishly stammered, “That’s right. We never studied it in school, and I’ve been too busy to go back and read it.” Inwardly, my self-defences were already in vigorous motion, launching volley upon volley of denial and justification in a futile attempt to swat down the single dart so innocently launched at me by my sister-in-law.

To no avail.

The missile struck and cut deep. It was true, I hadn’t read a single word Jules Verne ever scrawled on paper. But if I’m honest, he wasn’t the only author so poorly neglected by yours truly. I had only the faintest memories of Charles Dickens. There may have been a vague abridged copy of “A Tale of Two Cities” back in my teens. Were it not for God’s education at Herbert W. Armstrong College, I would have never read Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Henry V, or King Lear. I wouldn’t have a clue who that Othello guy was. The more I thought on it, the more I realized, I was classically illiterate.

Don’t get me wrong. I read as a kid. I was read to a lot by my mother. I remember the days of Rohl Dahl and Alison Lester. The pinnacle of her efforts was The Hobbit, after which she threw up her hands and told us, “You’re on your own.” And rightly so. By that stage, my brother and I were more than capable of reading our way from The Hobbit on to the Lonely Mountain, or there and back again. Yet as I now recollect in my 30s, most of the classics—which were the natural next step—never came. I never took up the more challenging mantle.

I’ve developed a hearty love of non-fiction. The various Church book clubs have promoted a study of the great men, which I have taken up with a vengeance. America’s history in particular is replete with fascinating examples. David McCullough’s John Adams, 1776 and The Pioneers are some standouts. As a Christian, there is so much to be derived from the lives of Washington, Theodore Roosevelt and the like. In recent times, I saw the sense in picking up The Art of the Deal to get an insight into Donald Trump’s life. The benefits to such reads are clear and immediate. But I never did give much thought to the classics beyond a vague notion of their having been written.

And so, I have embarked on a project of redeeming the time, or at least, the books. Look out Jules, here I come. I got stuck into Around the World in 80 Days, and it took me a few days, though not quite as long as it took Phileas Fogg to circumnavigate the globe. With Fogg-esque precision, I came next to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Not my favorite, I’ll be honest. It took some serious persistence to complete. But if Conseil could cheerfully endure that sub-nautical adventure for the sake of his master, Dr. Aronnax, then so could I.

But setting aside the Nautilus for a moment, it’s time to explain why I am writing to you about my recent literary epiphany. It is two-fold: 1. Because skipping the classics as a teen has become a great regret, and 2. The rediscovery of these books has been a great joy. Not only have I enjoyed the reading, but the lessons are of incredible value to me, and no doubt will be to you too.

Lessons in Life

For any of the “big kids” reading this article who have jobs, families, and all manner of other duties our teens and children have yet to experience, don’t despair. There is time in your day for reading. And great value in it too.

For instance, my boss in recent months admonished my fellow ministers and I to read more books on leadership. Wanting to prioritize this while also continuing my sojourn through the classics, I stumbled on the example of U.S. President Abraham Lincoln. I was reading Team of Rivals. (It is one of my favorite biographies. To my ongoing consternation, my copy is emblazed with the caption, “The book that inspired Barak Obama!”, Ugh!) But I digress.

In this book, Dorothy Kearns Goodwin highlights the scarcity of books available to young Lincoln in the backwoods of Indiana. Yet look at the leader he became. A few of his scarce collection were books of fiction. He read the incredibly popular—at that time—Pilgrims Progress. He read Robinson Crusoe. Both are books of fiction that are laden with incredible life lessons any Christian might take up and furnish themselves with.

Want to be a Lincolnesque leader? Why not read the same books? Personally I found Robinson Crusoechock full of life-lessons.

For instance, without giving away too many spoilers, its title character is cast ashore on a remote island. Shipwrecked and desolate, this self-willed and headstrong youth has little to furnish his existence there. But he has a Bible. His dire circumstances coupled with this valuable book, intertwine to create the story of a man brought to humility and repentance, reflection, gratitude and contentment.

In one of many comments on the state of man, Robinson reflects, “I learned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less upon the dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed, rather than what I wanted: and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot express them; and which I take notice of here, to put those discontented people in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what God has given them, because they see and covet something that he has not given them. All our discontents about what we want appeared to me to spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.”

How many teens—and adults—could benefit from such an outlook and approach to life. Herbert W. Armstrong named the sin of ingratitude as “one of the most prevalent, if not the most terrible, of sins.” Whether you need to steer a nation through civil war, or be guided in your own personal life pursuits, take heed. Reflections like those of Crusoe, though fictitious, can be of immense value.

Old does not mean outdated.

The more I delved into texts I once deemed “old,” the more applicable I found their lessons to be! The more I found they had morals to furnish the likes of you and me! Learn these lessons later in life? Great! But it’s better to learn them at 13, 14, or 15 years old. Though never having found myself stranded on a desert island, I certainly did come close to shipwreck more than once in the turbulent waters of my adolescence! The life lessons of the classics might have furnished me then with the tools required to steady my course and carry me on to calmer waters.

Quality

Yes, the physical copies of these books are not in the greatest shape. The pages are yellow and stained. A lot of them have that distinct musty smell. But what lies inside is of a much higher quality. The older the book, chances are, the better that quality. Be it style, subject, morales or motifs, the old books are best.

Enter my foray into Jane Austen.

Yes, Andrew Miiller, I finally took action on your article from June 2023: “Why Men Should Read Jane Austen.” Not unlike Mr. Miiller’s experience with Anne of Green Gables, my mother brought me into contact with a televised Pride and Prejudice. Not the movie, the 6-part, 327-minute bbc series. To a 12-year-old boy, the introduction was akin to the way a block of cheddar is introduced to a grater. Still, it was a much-needed dose of culture and one I should have heeded.

But flashing forward, Jane Austen’s classics were next on my list. First came Pride and Prejudice. Then Emma. Then Sense and Sensibility.

If a man has nothing to learn from the likes of Mr. Darcy, Mr. Knightley, or the noble Colonel Brandon, then he has truly mastered the art of gentility. While flawed, these men exhibit incredible finesse, sturdy determination, decisiveness, modesty and resolution—all points a young Callum Wood might have done well to heed.

And again, therein lies the point. There is so much to be gained from the classics. The standard of writing is high! It’s not easy reading in most cases. It takes hard work to dig gold out of the ground. But you’ve already done it! It was probably hard the first time you tried reading the King James Bible. But look at you now! It’s second nature. You’ve mastered the thees and thous. The same is true of the classics. Keep at it. You will find yourself furnished not only with the gold—the examples, stories, lessons etc—but you will come away stronger for the digging! Your reading ability will flourish, your vocabulary will expand. You’ll ruminate, remonstrate and expostulate in ways you never did before!

If it sounds daunting, don’t panic! Start small. Read something like “A Message to Garcia.” Well done! That will only cost you a half hour, tops. But you’ve got one under your belt. Try Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. Hemingway wrote simply. Don’t expect explosions and action-packed helicopter chases. Expect depth. It’s about a whole lot more than an old man and a marlin. It’s sweet, simple and easy to follow. Don’t start with Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness. That’s the 95 percent cocoa chocolate your grandad eats. It’s a taste to acquire down the road. You’ll get there.

But start and start soon. A near infinite number of worlds await you. Be they Victorian England, revolutionary France, feudal Japan, the uncharted Amazon, or the silent seabed. These books can be more than a teaching tool. They can be a place of protection.

A Haven from the World

This week, I flew from Perth to Brisbane. A five-hour flight. Crammed in like a sardine, I determined to read and avoid eye contact with the head-rest screen staring blankly three inches away from my face. But that didn’t stop everyone else tuning in. Being tall and the seats quite short, I glanced up at one point to see what people were watching. I kid you not, there was at least two screens showing explicit nudity. There were other perversions and extreme gore dotted all up and down the little screens in the cabin—all on full display to every commuter, adult and kid. It was horrifying.

But it is reality—at least, the world’s reality. That’s entertainment. That’s “fun.” That’s appropriate to air shamelessly in front of thousands of commuters Australia-wide.

Such filth is blatant on the big screen. But it’s in our books as well. Kids can’t freely roam the local library anymore. The lgbtqijklmnop message has permeated even the picture books of my 5-year-old son.

That’s not to say that the classics get everything right, but the chances of seeing filth diminishes the further you go back. As kids my mother taught us to read using what is called the Young Australia Language Development Scheme. It was written in 1968. It’s simple little stories that focus on repetition. There’s “Jack” and “Jill” and the like. But in each example, the father comes home from work in a well-pressed suit. His children meet him at the door. His wife steps forward in one of those old-timey aprons. Everyone smiles and laughs together. It’s a stable, right-side-up family. Sure, it’s black and white. Sure, it lacks the sparkles, colors and glossy look of modern books. But I’ll take pinstripe suited dad over buffoon-slovenly-dope-dad any day of the week.

The simple truth is that the longer time goes on, the deeper the corruption gets. The filthier the entertainment. The more subtle the deception. But here’s the thing: They can’t get rid of the books. Read Fahrenheit 451. There’s a great American classic of the dystopian variety. In that future world, books are banned. People live with TVs the size of walls. Everyone fills their lives with non-stop garbage. People stare at screens filled with flittering junk in a desperate attempt to stave off their own misery. The protagonist, Guy Montag, plucks up the courage to begin reading. From a fellow “rebel,” he receives this history lesson, “Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.” How dark the world would be without them!

The classics can be to you what they were for the fireman Montag, an escape from a shallow, perverse world.

The Timeless Classic

At the time of writing this, I’ve begun Moby Dick. Yes, I’ve never read it before. I know. But it was next on my list. Don’t spoil it for me. But I’m not alone in my challenge anymore. My wife has taken up the task with me. I’ve started pushing my kids to read more, even my 2-year-old. She doesn’t know it yet, but that bright pink book with princesses and sparkles all over it will one day lead her to the Bastille, or Pemberley House, or Uncle Tom’s cabin.

But for all of them, I have one book that everyone will read. And keep reading. You guessed it, the Bible. It is the most popular book in the world yet completely forgotten by so many. And it’s the book you need too.

If it comes down to a choice between the redemption of Sydney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities or the redemption of Job, choose Job. If it’s Montag’s mission or Moses’ destiny, choose Moses. If it’s Dantès or Daniel, choose Daniel. Always put God first.

Every word of the Bible is for doctrine, reproof, correction and instruction in righteousness. (2 Timothy 3:16). The same can be said of no other book. The Bible is God in print. It’s the manual on life. On how to live. We should get to know that book inside and out. It might seem a bit like trying to drink from a fire hydrant. There’s so much information coming at you. So use Proof of the Bible, Does God Exist? and The Incredible Human Potential. Start small. Start basic. They are all free and a click away.

Start your own library. The first shelf has your copies of the Church material. Start filling that shelf. The second shelf has your biographies. Fill it with plenty of Chernow, Isaacson and Manchester. Then consider the third shelf. What classics can you put there? Great Expectations? The Count of Monte Cristo? Remember King Solomon’s warning in Ecclesiastes 12:12, “[O]f making many books there is no end.” You don’t have time to read everything, so get the best. Do your research.

There’s more than enough there to get you started. Remember not to discourage yourself with something too challenging off the bat. But push yourself. Wrestle with that archaic prose. Master it. I guarantee you’ll be better off for the effort. Don’t be like me and wait half your life to get started. Begin your classics now. And if you have already, let me know! What should I read next? It’s a challenge we can take up together.

John Adams is purported to have come from an illiterate home. Do you want to know how he broke free, became educated, joined a revolution, helped kickstart a nation, traveled the world and eventually took his place as America’s second president?

“I discovered books,” he said, “and read forever.”