When you remonstrate with a Catholic on the character of his reading, you are sure to be met with some of the following, and any one of them is supposed to be a complete justification, no matter how bad the book:—­

[Side note:  Style]

“I read these books for the style.”  This is sometimes heard from people whose pretentions to literary taste borders on the grotesque; but let that pass.  Has a paralysis fallen on every hand that wields a Catholic pen?  Does the light of Faith beaming on a human mind quench the beauties of imagination or dull the taste?  Or, is a perfect style to be found only among the apostles of evil?  Surely the long range of Catholic writers offers an ample variety of the most perfect exponents of literary style.  Let us be honest.  It is not for the style these books are read; it is because they gratify an unhealthy craving, because they are soft, sensual, suggestive, and stimulate feelings not far from the border-land of sin.

[Side note:  I see no harm]

“I see no harm in them.”  Now by this answer you implicitly admit that you see no good.  Have you then no remorse for frittering away such a precious gift of God as time?  If the damned got five minutes of that time to repent, every chamber in hell would be empty.  Yet you squander months and years without a qualm.

You see no harm in it.  Look into your own life and what do you discover.  The unction of prayer sucked out of your soul, your relish for the Sacraments gone, a dry rot consuming your spiritual life, a nausea for supernatural things, a taste every day becoming more clayey, and an increasing appetite for grosser excitements.  Books that you would tremble to touch a year ago you now devour without a pang; or perhaps the stray shreds of infidelity are weaving themselves into your future creed.  Do not mind what you see with the eye of a conscience that is already half-dead.  Search deep into your own heart and life, and you will quickly discover the damage done.

[Side note:  Narrow-minded]

“We cannot be narrow-minded.”  Is it then a something to be ashamed of, if in matters pertaining to our eternal interests we are cautious and conservative?  Not prone to take dangerous risks?  This is the disposition sometimes called narrow-mindedness.  Surely it is better even to be narrow-minded than pagan-minded.

But let us clear our minds of cant and squarely face the question.  Will the person who calls you narrow-minded for exercising caution in the selection of your books, exhibit his own breadth of mind by going into a chemist’s shop, shutting his eyes and gulping down the contents of the first bottle that comes to his hand?  Ha!  You see how quickly his broad-mindedness is replaced by most careful caution.  But a library is like a chemist’s shop.  The shelves may hold health-giving medicines or the most deadly poisons.  As well call the harbour authorities narrow-minded because they close the ports against the cholera ship, as to question the just prudence of the man who shuts his door against the evil book.