Marju Lauristin was also there for the first readers' study in 1978, working at what was then the University of Tartu Department of Journalism (now Institute of Social Studies). Back then, the survey was completed in time for the 100th birthday of Estonian author Anton Hansen Tammsaare.

"It was a very nice anniversary. We did it with the National Library, which was called the Kreutzwald State Library at the time. The recent study was also put together in cooperation between the National Library, our institute and the Literary Museum. Of course, I would also like to thank Kantar Emor for conducting the study. The institute, or the journalism department back then, has been carrying out these studies for close to 50 years now," Lauristin said.

If previously the study has covered reading in both Estonian and Russian, the latest installation only looks at Estonian as it is dedicated to the anniversary of the Estonian book. This was also the case with the first study.

"The first study was largely about what Estonians were reading because Tammsaare was a widely known writer. We started by asking people why they read, what they expected. It was interesting to learn about expectations placed on books, how a good book was defined. I remember as one very strong response that it was good if it made you cry. But more general ideas started to take shape with that survey," Lauristin recalled.

"Books were very popular back then, lines formed outside bookstores in the wee hours. For example, when a [poetry] collection by [Hando] Runnel went on sale. Also in the case of popular series and so on. People wanted to know what would happen next in the book and why some books were being bought and others weren't."

For the purposes of the first readership study, two major surveys were carried out. The study was targeted similarly to the latest installation. "We're not just looking at who is reading but also what's around them, what surrounds the book, what role the book plays in the person's life, what else does that life contain, how they live — all of it. On the other hand, we looked very specifically at what are the books, which authors and genres were read and so on," Lauristin said.

"Society was typically very hierarchical back then. There were the elite and the people below them, but the literary nation, the foundation was very strong. The encyclopedia was there, of course, as well as the Kreutzwalds and the Liivs and so on. Jaan Kross was firmly embedded there as well, meaning that almost everyone had read his works," Lauristin said, pointing out that Eesti Entsüklopeedia (Estonian Encyclopedia) had a print run of 200,000 while those of Estonian novels reached into the tens of thousands.

"I remember when Gustav Suits' collections started to be published; it was in the tens of thousands again. Poetry collections by Estonian authors also had print runs in the thousands at least, maybe more. It was a very strong and encyclopedic foundation. The model we went with had books that united us all, which was followed by another layer that pooled people together into larger groups based on certain preferences. Some prefer fiction, while others like nonfiction; some go for the classics, while yet others like modern writers. Finally, we had branches with smaller readerships: gourmands with various interests," the social scientist described.

From there, the authors of the study looked at specific writers and other interests and fields of readers. "Back then, there was little to separate the 400,000 to 500,000 people who bought a print run in terms of education or other such markers. We could really say that the Estonian people sought refuge from the system. You opened a book like a door into your own world, left it all behind and really lived in the book. Many aspects of this literary world also allowed you to criticize the actual one," Lauristin said, noting that book reviews, published in the Sirp and Vasar [newspaper], were quite widely read.

"Many who had nothing to do with the literary world read book reviews because they afforded the chance to criticize life in general. In that sense, books had a compensatory or auxiliary, even protective meaning for people. The literary world was a kind of own world for people, and besides, the bookstore was the only one where you could spend your money on what you wanted," she added.

Lauristin said that Estonians' love for books stems from the nation putting its faith in education all along. "Coming to the 500th anniversary of the Estonian book, it was not a crime novel they printed 500 years ago; they were religious texts. In some ways, we need to be very grateful that we found ourselves in that part of Europe where the Lutheran faith took root right away, because the Lutheran faith forced people to read."

"Children had to attend school. The entire system of folk schools meant you had to know how to read in order to pass confirmation. So the Lutheran or Protestant turn helped books gain a place of honor also in rural families," Lauristin said, giving the example of [Oskar Luts'] "Kevade" ("Spring").

"It's quite wondrous when we think about Joosep Toots. How he talked about the Kentucky Lion, played Indians, which means that [the series] "Seiklusjutte maalt ja merelt" ("Adventure Tales from the Land and Sea") reached him from far-away America. Books really have enjoyed special favor in farming families — though they didn't have thousands — starting with the Bible through "Kentucky Lion."

Study shows both young and old read books

On the one hand, the aim of the recent study is to understand what has changed over the years, while on the other, it's to test the claim that no one reads books in this day and age. "The latter was a matter of protest in a way because if you hear or read headlines every day, according to which no one reads paper books, soon no one will read anything at all and young people especially do no reading whatsoever, you start to wonder whether it could really be accurate. We wanted to test the stereotype and determine whether it is really a case of no one reading or taking an interest," said Lauristin.

Books need their ecological environment, Lauristin suggested. "We are used to thinking about things ecologically, in terms of everything having an environment. Books also need an environment, an ecological environment which supports authors wanting to write books, someone wanting to publish those books, the books being available somewhere /.../ and there being enough people who want to obtain and read those books so that the writers and publishers would stay motivated," she found.

"While a writer can write for the drawer, I imagine they would be quite pleased to know someone is actually reading their works. Of course, people start with books and books start with authors — that much is clear — but our study does not look at the writer's side; we look at the environment," Lauristin said, adding that a so-called cultural audience has developed in Estonia.

"The cultural audience as such is shaped — beginning with the studies we did in the 1980s — by a clearly defined segment of Estonians. Things are a little different with Russians, including Estonian Russians, so we're talking about Estonians. It has been quite a stable and persistent group who have made sure that theaters continue to have patrons, that books are bought and Estonian movies are watched, that Estonians attend concerts, including something lighter than [Arvo] Pärt."

"We could say that an active core cultural audience has developed in Estonia and is being passed down from one generation to the next, starting in the home. The question is of its vitality today and whether it can bear the load in a situation where supply has exploded. There are more books, more concerts that core audience has to pay for out of pocket and find time for. The question is whether this pillar that supports our whole superstructure can stand, whether it's strong or whether it's developing cracks," Lauristin reasoned.

Reading is skewed toward women and the situation has deteriorated, according to Lauristin. "The Estonian literary world tends to be split into a women's world and a men's world. Women outnumber men two to one in terms of active readers and participation in culture. Not that I'm not thrilled about women's eagerness, but it saddens me men are not keeping up," she said.

Reading falls off when men reach middle age. "We have age brackets 15 to 24, then 25 to 34, 35 to 44 and from there to 50 and over 60. The middle part is around 40–50, which is where the slump happens, where reading, interest in books and culture drops by a third. It starts rising again in the older group. So the situation today is where we have around 20 percent of those who do not take an interest among young and old people, while it spikes to 30–35 percent in the middle-aged group, more so among men. We could say that the middle-aged man is the bottleneck of Estonian culture," the social scientist said.

Lauristin has pointed out that the generation brought up in the 1990s, who currently hold influential positions in society, are the ones alienated from reading, which can be blamed on the transitional period.

"Not because people became older and stopped reading, as both men and women grew older after all, but while you get more problems [at that age] — a family, children — women, who have the kids and all the other problems, still read the same or even more, while the men do not read as much and do not take an interest in culture."

"I think it is about the transitional period, the 1990s, because we saw our mentality break there. We can see in general how culture, for Estonians, morphed from sanctuary, a fortress and a way of staying true to oneself into entertainment, business and almost a niche thing. A real man was no longer he who walked after a plough, but he who did business. There was even a joke about why are you reading books, don't you have money to count," Lauristin said.

According to the social scientist, the era brought up boys who strove more for material things. "Everyone is doing something, everyone drives a car and has all these things, while you don't. This is to say that society becomes quite transactional and pragmatic. I would say this has passed now. Taking a look today, I see more or less the same structure among the young and old, we once again have more young people interested in reading and culture. So things are going well in that sense."

"It's just that middle part, people of that age, and especially men, whose voice carries and who shape and determine a great many things. I'm afraid all this talk about people no longer reading means that among one's acquaintances no one reads anymore. We are all in the habit of saying that if there is a trend among our acquaintances then it must be true for everyone, but luckily that's not the case. People read, they do take an interest; the core is roughly the same size it has been before," Lauristin said, noting that one change is that young people read more using screens than paper and often prefer books in English.

"Not just because they all can [read English]; there is another reason. When we ask why, it's very practical: books in English are available at one-third the price and much faster. It is a serious problem young people are seemingly pushed into the arms of reading in English," she remarked.

The study reveals that young people read as much as adults, while the fact that young people rather read in English is not helping the vitality of Estonian culture and language. "Reading is a kind of mental activity for which there is no substitute. Reading is unique for our brain to start up, its training and fitness. The art of assembling completely meaningless lines and squiggles into words with meaning and then putting those words together in some peculiar way to form feelings and ideas. The activity goes beyond eyes and hands; very interesting and mysterious processes take place in our brain, which, I'm afraid, those who try to tell us that artificial intelligence is like people still don't really understand."

"Now, when young people read but not in Estonian, that is a problem not for them, but for the development of Estonian culture," Lauristin, for whom this is a matter of great concern, said.

"When young people no longer want to read Estonian, when they no longer understand Estonian words, can't understand Estonian poetry, Juhan Liiv's poetry, because they cannot grasp figurative speech and metaphors, which is what many teachers tell us, where is our language and culture headed? When contacts with foreign Estonians intensified, they said that while their kids were speaking Estonian at home, it was 'kitchen Estonian.' Studying, reading and other such things were done in English or Swedish or some other language, but you spoke [Estonian] to grandma at home. I'm afraid it is a very serious matter."

"The number one question we are raising with this study is how do we make sure our cultural stem on which everything else stands, that pillar, those people — how to make it strong enough not just today and tomorrow, but also 10 and 20 years from now," Lauristin said.

On the one hand, there is a blossoming of culture right now; we are seeing new theaters and artists pop up, new books are being written, but the question is sustainability. "There is the problem of how can teachers, mothers and fathers, older sisters and brothers, grandma and grandpa turn reading an Estonian book, which should not be a terrible, hard and confusing obligation — grandma says I must and the teacher demands I get a good grade, so I need to read Kreutzwald's horrid "Kalevipoeg" or a book called "Kevade" I cannot for the life of me understand — into something that offers the same level of excitement, enjoyment as those hefty 900,000-page English sagas they read," Lauristin remarked.

The mystery of Andrus Kivirähk

According to the study, Oskar Luts and Anton Hansen Tammsaare crown the best-known Estonian writers list, even though both only figure in the third ten in terms of popularity among young people; but also Andrus Kivirähk whose popularity among both young readers and adults is, according to Lauristin, one of the study's great mysteries. "What is it about Andrus Kivirähk that has allowed him to break through everything, including young people's preference for English, men's book phobia — everything. If we hark back to that old model and Jaan Kross at its foundation, this key position has been taken over by Kivirähk," the researcher said.

The phenomenon of Andrus Kivirähk makes for an exciting matter for Lauristin and a question she has put to professors of literature. "I believe there are many elements at play there; if we look at it from a young person's perspective who likes horror stories and long novels full of wizards, we have [Kivirähk's] "Rehepapp," also its movie version, which many have seen, that has its fair share of horror-like character. Or let us take "Mees, kes teadis ussisõnu" ("The Man Who Spoke Snakish") — if we want mythology and a fairy tale, "Mees, kes teadis ussisõnu" is mythologically multilayered. You feel quite different after finishing it, while at the same time you have [Kivirähk's fictional character] Ivan Orav who lets you make fun of the most serious things and holds nothing sacred."

"Or let us look at "Eesti Matus." He's so lyrical there, or Kivirähk and "Liblikas," and then he is as warmhearted as Luts in his "Maailma otsas. Pildikesi heade inimeste elust." He tops all of that off with surrealism for kids, talking about poop ["Kaka ja Kevad" – ed.], all of which comes together in a maximally multifaceted approach where everyone can find something that attracts them," Laurisin said.

Teachers play a major role in young people finding their way to books. "One part of the study dealt not with numbers, but focus groups and interviews. We had a great group. People from the Literary Museum did it with writers who teach and teachers. We got a lot of insight into how schools find magical pathways to young people. How Estonian literature is made exciting, how interest is created, when we hear that kids no longer understand words like ader (plough) or tint (ink). How can one read "Kevade" if one doesn't know what a krihvel (slate pencil) and tahvel (slate) are?

"And what the participating teachers emphasized is that there is still this old-fashioned, Kampmannian (Estonian literary scholar and pedagogue from the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries – ed.) approach to literature. Here's literary history where we will learn from one year to the next where those writers were, what they did; then we'll look at their works, which are the more important ones and which less important. We learn it all, read them and talk about what they wrote about. This kind of an approach no longer suits young people," Lauristin said.

"And by the way, it no longer suits young teachers who go to work in schools either. We see that books are like doorways to worlds of wonder for young people; if you can see "Kevade" as a magical world, or Tammsaare. Maybe the door to Tammsaare is not the easiest to open through the first volume of "Tõde ja õigus" ("Truth and Justice"), but perhaps it can be "Põrgupõhja uus vanapagan" ("The New Devil of Hellsbottom)," said Lauristin, highlighting teachers as the hope of Estonian culture.

If the study highlights Luts and Kivirähk as a bridge between generations, Lauristin said Estonian literature has other unifying elements. "I can offer a very cute little episode. A Russian-speaking teacher, learning Estonian, came up to me once and told me about her realization of when one has obtained the so-called Estonian spirit. The key is that when one person says: "When Arno and his father got to the schoolhouse," the other finishes: "the lessons had already started." (The first sentence of Oska Luts' "Kevade" – ed.) If a person knows to finish that sentence in this way, it's a keyword for entering Estonian culture."

"In truth, such keywords and other connecting elements go beyond those two or three authors. Our study showed that there are around 25–30 common names 75 percent or more people questioned said they knew or had read. Whether they liked them is another matter, but it does come together as a shared literary or book space," the social scientist said.

Books not just for literature class

Lauristin is also a founding member of the Ene Mihkelson Society that represents so-called grand literature. She said that while heavy literature is still being published, the question is why and when might we need such books. "If we say that something is difficult, it's often difficult because we lack the connection, experience and find it hard to immerse ourselves in it. Looking from the point of view of education, at how to bring people who like things to be exciting, enchanting and playful, to more demanding literature, I get the feeling we should be bolder in doing what many others are doing."

"I know it's quite widespread in Britain; we see that the British republish their old works, study [the same thing] in basic school, then again in high school and finally in university. They are looking at a single book from many sides. I think that, similarly, things you need to learn in history class should not happen without books. How can we instill in young people a sense of history when they have not experienced, through books, the things they cannot experience first hand? Let us take Mihkelson, let us take Lilli Luuk, who write about the same time period, tough times, the period of Forest Brothers, life after the war and Stalinism. If you hear about this tough period, it hits you like a steel-toed boot — you don't want it — but if you take literature and look at it through that prism, look through a child's eyes, like Mihkelson has, look through all of those complex emotions people had at how it was, perhaps that can give you a different understanding," Lauristin said.

Literature can open doors to other worlds for young people, but it requires knowing form. "A brilliant poetry collection on Estonian nature was published just recently, which is available in bookstores now. My recommendation would be for all biology teachers and schools to obtain a copy at once, because it is possible to bring kids to poetry through nature. Books are not just for literature classes, for demonstrating one is a cultured and intelligent person; they help us expand our sensory world, understand our own feelings, develop or reflect our contact with life."

"That books are not just something you use for filling a bookcase, that they're a part of intellectual life. I think we need to reintroduce that as a natural thing, unlike how in Soviet times there was this kind of grandstanding where a person might say they have the complete Balzac, 30 volumes, on their wall, but they don't read them," Lauristin suggested.

She gave the example that while some schools count how many books or pages one has read, why not try to spend an entire year reading just one book. "For example, we could read "Kevade" for the whole year, put on plays and, as young people are fond of doing these days, write fan fiction sequels. Why couldn't we have "Kevade" sequels about our school, our class. /.../

Lauristin said that she had the good fortune of growing up with books. She was using the encyclopedia to solve crossword puzzles when she was eight and could read her favorite books dozens of times in a single summer. "Books shape people insofar as you find something new inside. I think I was in sixth grade when I got my hands on Darwin's "The Voyage of the 'Beagle.'" It shaped a lot in me and I copied all manner of drawings from it. If you've swallowed a book, it stays with you, helping you to make sense of yourself, see something new. I can say I'm completely woven through with books in that sense," she said.

A lot of translated literature, philosophical literature is published in Estonia, often to gather dust on bookshelves. The readership study also revealed that people like series, as they invite the reader to return. Out of Estonian book series, Loomingu Raamatukogu is the most popular.

"I would say that Loomingu Raamatukogu has been a wonderful thing. It's been running since 1958 and remains the most popular. If you go to a bookstore today, Loomingu Raamatukogu still figures prominently in the charts. I wouldn't have known anything about Aliis Aalmann if I hadn't seen her recent collection in Loomingu Raamatukogu. It is our top series so to speak, just as 'Mirabilia' was back in the day. Unfortunately, what's not on top, and this saddens me greatly, is the 'Avatud Eesti raamat' series — those so-called marbled books, which include the world's top thinkers, splendid works, very complicated and difficult translations. Reading these books would brings us closer by leaps and bounds to the European spirit that we otherwise may not always understand and all manner of grand problems."

"Just having heard the name of the series is at around 10 percent, whereas this includes survey error margins, as people tend to claim to know more than they actually do. "This pains me greatly," Lauristin said, highlighting two reasons.

"One aspect is that philosophy has been left out of our general education, as well as attempts to give meaning to society and history in general, which is to say there is no one to give such books to anymore, including teachers. The other thing is that our book review, the debate surrounding books, is centered around a few select authors, while analysis of the series, what it holds, its value and why it's needed... I believe it would draw attention to it."

"I have a cultural recommendation based on this study for mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, older brothers and sisters. Read books with your children, take joy if a child knows a poem by heart, take the kids to a bookstore. Get children used to the idea that the world of books is an exciting and wondrous place that offers one endless new adventures; then we will no longer have the problem that no one reads in Estonian. That would be my first recommendation. As concerns what to read, a book has stayed with me lately, even though I haven't read it for a long time myself, but it has just left such a strong impression. It's Herman Hesse's "The Glass Bead Game." If we look at all that is happening, all the entertainment noise and getting lost in trivial things, I'm constantly reminded of the term he had, time of noise, about this period, and where Hesse asks whether one, then, needs serious ideas, teachers or values. So I believe reading Hesse could offer great comfort today," said Marju Lauristin.

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