"I wasn't a very discriminating reader. I read just about everything that came along"
About this Quote
Kuralt’s charm here is how casually he confesses to what modern culture treats as a vice: indiscriminate consumption. Coming from a journalist, the line reads less like a humblebrag about curiosity and more like a working philosophy. Reporters aren’t built by curated syllabi; they’re built by exposure. “Just about everything that came along” signals a willingness to be surprised, to let the world intrude on your tastes instead of filtering it out in advance.
The subtext is a quiet rebuke of status anxiety. “Discriminating” usually means refined, selective, tasteful. Kuralt flips it: discrimination can be a form of self-protection, a way to avoid boredom, bad prose, unfashionable ideas, and inconvenient people. His admission suggests that the raw material of insight often comes from the supposedly low-value pile: local papers, odd magazines, pamphlets, throwaway books, the kind of reading that doesn’t photograph well on a shelf. That range matches Kuralt’s own career, especially his affection for everyday American stories, the ones living off the main highway of prestige.
There’s also a pre-digital context baked in. Before algorithms, “everything that came along” meant physical happenstance: what was on the table, in the waiting room, passed along by a friend. The line romanticizes a kind of intellectual serendipity that today’s hyper-targeted feeds work hard to eliminate. Kuralt isn’t arguing for mindless intake; he’s defending porousness, the capacity to be changed by what you didn’t think you were looking for.
The subtext is a quiet rebuke of status anxiety. “Discriminating” usually means refined, selective, tasteful. Kuralt flips it: discrimination can be a form of self-protection, a way to avoid boredom, bad prose, unfashionable ideas, and inconvenient people. His admission suggests that the raw material of insight often comes from the supposedly low-value pile: local papers, odd magazines, pamphlets, throwaway books, the kind of reading that doesn’t photograph well on a shelf. That range matches Kuralt’s own career, especially his affection for everyday American stories, the ones living off the main highway of prestige.
There’s also a pre-digital context baked in. Before algorithms, “everything that came along” meant physical happenstance: what was on the table, in the waiting room, passed along by a friend. The line romanticizes a kind of intellectual serendipity that today’s hyper-targeted feeds work hard to eliminate. Kuralt isn’t arguing for mindless intake; he’s defending porousness, the capacity to be changed by what you didn’t think you were looking for.
Quote Details
| Topic | Book |
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