In 1776, on March 9, Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations. It quickly became perhaps the first of a long line of books having one peculiar characteristic: it was highly popular, much talked about, cited in the halls of academia as well as in the chambers of governments, and yet hardly anybody actually read it.
Some early commentators were rash enough to admit this. David Hume, the Scottish philosopher, was quoted as saying that “…the sale of [The Wealth of Nations] has been more than I could have expected from a work that requires much thought and reflection (qualities that do not abound among modern readers).” Robert Southey wrote in the Quarterly Review that “The Wealth of Nations is a tedious and hard-hearted book.”
The politician Charles James Fox, who was a leader of the Whig party in England in the late 1700s, admitted openly that he had never read it. “There is something in all these subjects which passes my comprehension; something so wide that I could never embrace them myself nor find any one who did.” This didn’t stop Fox from claiming that the book supported the policies he was espousing to Parliament, of course.
William Pitt was Prime Minister of England for many years in the late 1700s and early 1800s. He mentioned the book more than once in speeches and debates in Parliament, but also admitted that Adam Smith’s arguments in it “though always ingenious, were sometimes injudicious.” That’s the sort of criticism you might use when you want to make it appear that you were familiar with a particular work, but in fact didn’t know enough about its details to be very specific.
One person that really did read The Wealth of Nations was Richard Cobden. He was a member of parliament and a radical (that is, he was a member of the Radical group in Parliament; my today’s standards they were really not particularly radical). We know he actually read the book because his personal copy has survived, and you can see the notes he made in the margins. Reportedly, he mentioned the book fairly often during his political career. On the other hand, one of the things he argued was that it was morally wrong to lend any money if you thought that money was going to be spent on war. He cited Adam Smith as the source of this moral position. The problem is, The Wealth of Nations doesn’t say that.
Across the Atlantic, The Wealth of Nations provided some fodder that provoked the Revolutionary War. Adam Smith worked with Charles Townshend. He was a member of the British Parliament and the author of what are now called the Townshend Acts, which imposed new taxes of the colonists. Those taxes are considered a primary cause of the rebellion. On the other hand, Adam Smith was also a friend and acquaintance of Benjamin Franklin, one of the most important people in those same colonies. Thomas Jefferson, another notable colonist, pointed out that The Wealth of Nations was a good book, unless you could get another one (Political Economy by Jean-Baptiste Say), which Jefferson said “treats the same subject on the same principles, but is shorter…and more lucid.” Jefferson probably read the book. But James Madison, said to be “the father of the US Constitution.” may not have. He was against creating a national bank, and said that was because The Wealth of Nations argued against national banks. The problem is that it doesn’t, at least not very clearly.
One of the things the book does say quite clearly (more or less directly contradicting Smith’s colleague Townshend) is that British Colonies that contributed to the British treasury through their tax revenues deserved to elect their own representatives to Parliament. Not only did that never happen; it was never seriously considered. In retrospect that one thing could very well have changed the course of history, since the most important complaint of the North American colonists was that they were being taxed by Parliament but didn’t have any say about it. You’ve probably heard the slogan “no taxation without representation.” Anyway, I’ll simply refer you to my previous statement: hardly anybody really read The Wealth of Nations.
It’s not the only book in that club, of course. Some of the books that a lot of “readers” never actually read are a lot older. The Canterbury Tales is one. That book is one of the oldest — and that’s part of the problem. It’s so old that it’s pretty difficult for modern readers to get through. If you take a college class, have some help, and get into a bit of a groove with the language, it has some actually entertaining parts. But it’s a lot easier to just remember some one-liners and refer to something like “the bard’s tale.” You can get away with it, because chances are whoever you’re trying to impress hasn’t read it either.
And how about Ulysses by James Joyce? That’s another difficult read, but the book has (sort of inexplicably) become a real cultural icon. Most people just go along with what some critics said when they fawned over the thing. Once again, taking a college course where you have to read it (take it from me; there are tests) helps, because when you get stuck in the partially made-up language, you can ask the professor about it. And then there’s the last chapter — your professor already knows you’re going to be completely at sea, so he’ll outline the whole thing before he makes you try to read it (which he knows you won’t be able to by yourself). It will, in my experience, be on the test.
My next candidate is much more recent than all the others; it’s A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. Millions of people have bought this book. It’s not long. It’s not written in Middle English like The Canterbury Tales, and the author didn’t make up a lot of the words like in Ulysses. But it’s a book for physicists, not the rest of us with normal-sized brains half taken up trying to remember to buy milk on the way home. The real shame of this book is that it doesn’t look all that imposing, so when you put it on your bookshelf it’s simply too thin to make the kind of nonverbal boast you’d really intend.
David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest is just the opposite; it’s got plenty of pages and lots of heft. Millions of people bought this one, too. It’s about this kid in private school who plays tennis. At least that’s how it starts out. I never got very far in it, and I’ll wager most of the rest of you might not have either. Frankly I never quite got the point — not the point of the book, assuming it has one, and not the point of the critical acclaim it managed to accrue. This particular book is relatively unique, though, because people who haven’t read all those other books still have a general idea what they’re about. The Wealth of Nations is about economics. A Brief History of Time is about making sure the general public understands that there are much smarter people working out that physics stuff, so there’s no need to worry about it. But I don’t think most people have a clear idea what Infinite Jest is about. I’ll admit there were some funny passages in the parts I got through, though.
There are a lot more books like this; classics, bestsellers, and cultural icons that everybody’s heard of, loads of people sort of casually imply that they’ve read, and yet (I bet) hardly anybody has actually read. War and Peace by Tolstoy, Remembrance of Things Past by Proust (this is another one I’ve attempted. Take it from me, it’s not about anything.) In any case, most of the books on the list of unread classics tend to be quite long, and I’m wondering if in today’s world that might not be an automatic disqualifier. After all, nowadays everybody prefers shorter writing forms, like posts on websites (nudge nudge wink wink, be sure to recommend this one). And if there’s something longer, and it gets popular, there’s sure to be a movie, or maybe a series. And that reminds me; I heard a rumor that Dune and Game of Thrones started out as books. Amazing! Remind me to put those on my shelf. That shelf people see when they come to visit…
