Too Dense to be Condensed?

Do you remember Reader’s Digest Condensed Books? Early in our marriage, with bookshelves in our home but little with which to fill them, I subscribed. Four times a year, I’d receive by mail a hardcover containing four recent bestsellers, condensed to fit into one volume. Reader’s Digest provided this popular service for 47 years (1950-1997) before renaming it Reader’s Digest Select Editions. As far as I can tell, the current version operates the same way. The books provide an opportunity for readers to stay abreast of latest bestsellers with less investment of time, money, and shopping.

At some point, I cancelled my subscription but began buying these books at thrift shops and libraries for 25 or 50 cents apiece. Their matching, faux-leather covers looked fantastic on our shelves and I read most of them. They also served as a lovely way to fill bookshelves on stage for more than one theatrical production over the years.

After I became a novelist, I wondered how authors felt about their work being condensed. Surely some refused to participate. What if favorite scenes were eliminated? What if glaring plot holes left readers with unanswered questions? On Wikipedia, you can find a list of every book published this way, with dates—nearly two thousand in all, sometimes with different selections for the Canadian market. Clearly, Reader’s Digest must pay authors well enough to make the pain of deleted words worth the sacrifice.

Taking shortcuts is not uncommon for human beings. For decades, students have relied on Coles Notes and Cliff Notes study guides to help them bypass heavy reading assignments, though the company would never endorse the practice. Since the first “for Dummies” book came out in 1990, that company has released more than 2,500 titles to teach you about almost anything as quickly and easily as possible. In 2016, an app called Joosr released, which reduces nonfiction books to a 15-minute read. Horrifying? To some. But if the choice is between that or not reading at all, maybe the idea holds merit.

Is it “cheating” to read a shortened version of a book? Is it okay to claim you’ve read it? How about condensed versions of long classics you’d never otherwise read in full?

As more books poured into our home and with both of us reluctant to part with any, our shelves eventually became overladen. The simplest solution? Pulling down all the pretty RD condensed books and donating them to our local MCC Thrift store, bypassing the need to consider every single book. Hubby agreed, and I performed the task during one of my spring-cleaning frenzies. I cleared three shelves (which quickly filled again once I reorganized and rearranged our remaining books.) I’m happy with the outcome.

Imagine my surprise when I unloaded them at MCC only to learn they cannot take those RD books, at least not in large quantities. Not enough space, not enough demand. A pleasant young man helped me reload the six boxes into my trunk. I trundled them off to our recycling depot with a twist in my gut. (If you would have loved to receive them, please don’t tell me. My heart’s already wracked with guilt for not trying harder.)

In a warning to his son in Ecclesiastes, Solomon said, “Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body … here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil.”

And yes, I condensed that a bit.