THIS is a book for readers who cannot read. That may sound
rude, though I do not mean to be. It may sound like a con-
tradiction, but it is not. The appearance of rudeness and
contradiction arises only from the variety of senses in which
the word "reading" can be used.

The reader who has read thus far surely can read, in some
sense of the word. You can guess, therefore, what I must
mean. It is that this book is intended for those who can read
in some sense of "reading" but not in others. There are
many kinds of reading and degrees of ability to read. It is
not contradictory to say that this book is for readers who
want to read better or want to read in some other way than
they now can.

For whom is this book not intended, then? I can answer
that question simply by naming the two extreme cases.
There are those who cannot read at all or in any way: in-
fants, imbeciles, and other innocents. And there may be
those who are masters of the art of reading--who can do
every sort of reading and do it as well as is humanly possible.
Most authors would like nothing better than such persons
to write for. But a book, such as this, which is concerned
with the art of reading itself and which aims to help its
readers read better, cannot solicit the attention of the
already expert.

Between these two extremes we find the average reader,

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