New York Times, August 6, 2009, Entirely
I read an entire edition of the New York Times (August 6, 2009) without stopping.
I began reading at 10:00 a.m. and finished the following day at 12:50 a.m. Over the course of nearly 15 hours I read every printed word in the paper: articles, advertisements, advertisement disclaimers, photo credits, headlines, bylines and all other fine print. During this reading period I did not take breaks and avoided speaking with people.
Front Page 10:00 – 17:23
Business Day 17:23 – 19:37
Sports Thursday 19:37 – 21:14
The Arts 21:14 – 23:06
Home 23:06 – 23:57
Thursday Styles 23:57 – 00:50
The reading took place in a large empty studio with a door that opens onto the backyard and the forest. In this reductive environment, my focus sharpened and I was able to concentrate and ingest and retain information in a manner wholly different than in my normal everyday life. Throughout the day and night I felt quite calm with the exception of one small period, shortly after I finished the front-page section. Having spent over five hours making my way through the first of six sections, I became concerned that I would not be able to complete the task at hand. I feared fatigue and imagined failing. My anxieties subsided a few hours later after the next section, business, only took a little over two hours to read. Since I read every printed word, different types of content became useful in varying ways. After reading a lengthy article about a suburban New York housewife and mother who killed two of her children and all of her brother’s children while driving drunk, a full page advertisement listing (in fine print) various vacation specials provided a reprieve. And conversely, having tackled a half page, micro-print summary explaining all the potential hazards of the drug Toprol-xl, I was thrilled to then read an article detailing a psychological panel’s conclusion that gay people cannot change and become heterosexual.
People would pass by the door of the studio periodically, but I could not really see them as my gaze was steadily fixed on the paper. One time about four hours into my reading, a colleague approached the door and started talking to me. Surely I could hear him, I even remember what he said, “wow, so arty.” But it was as if we were in two separate worlds and I could not make the leap from the space between my eyes and the newspaper and the reality beyond. This was a special moment for me. Maybe it was akin to being really high on some sort of drug