A Review of Jenae Cohn’s *Skim, Dive, Surface: Teaching Digital Reading* by Diana Hatchett

“Do we really need to read whole books?” The student held up a particularly thick monograph assigned in my seminar.

In years prior, my instinct would have been to offer a brief response about how my discipline “is a book discipline,” one that favors books over journal articles or other formats. Privately, I may have justified my preference for “whole books” with some tired, derisive explanation about how students “don’t want to work hard” or how “standards have lowered.”

But the student who raised this question surprised me: They had demonstrated a strong work ethic and commitment to the course; their comments in class and their papers engaged deeply with the assigned readings. We were approaching the end of the semester (and course evaluations), and I realized with some embarrassment that I needed to take this question more seriously. What followed was an insightful exchange with my students about various modalities of reading in the college classroom, especially about students’ growing preference for digital formats.

To begin exploring digital reading pedagogy, I turned to Jenae Cohn’s (2021) Skim, Dive, Surface: Teaching Digital Reading, a recent publication of West Virginia University Press’s Teaching and Learning in Higher Education series edited by James M. Lang (of Small Teaching). Although the book’s focus is on digital reading, Cohn addresses concerns shared across text formats and disciplines, as well as across time and place; at its heart, it is a book about reading, not just digital reading. Following an introduction, “Why Teach Digital Reading?”, the book is divided into 3 parts: “Skim,” “Dive,” and “Surface.”

The introductory chapter, “Why Teach Digital Reading?”, is essential for anyone who remains skeptical of the necessity of improving our (digital) reading pedagogy. Cohn describes the challenges of teaching digital reading in the college classroom as “an inertia gap,” in which “we keep trying to apply print-based reading strategies to digital reading spaces, but upon realizing those strategies don’t work, we move toward blaming the digital space itself” (13). Blaming the digital space itself might look like technology bans in the classroom because students are “too distracted”, or assuming that students are knowledgeable “digital natives” (PDF annotation anyone?).

Cohn’s approach is to persuade the reader in the Introduction and Part 1 of the need for alternative strategies (discussed in Parts 2 and 3 of the book), offering gentle correctives while still respecting the personal choices of the instructor. “What this book advocates for is an awareness of our choices, choices that involve not just relying on convenience or habit but that are shaped by thoughtful interrogation of the learning activity and what we want our students to gain from the activity in different sets of material spaces” (25). The problem is that when we do not give ourselves and our students informed learning choices, we “potentially limit what is possible” in the first place (18).

Part 1, “Skim: Understanding Historical, Affective, and Neurological Perspectives on Reading Technologies,” is a fun jaunt through history, psychology, and neuroscience. In Chapter 1, “The Chained Book,” Cohn incorporates numerous amusing passages from Socrates through the present-day lamenting how new reading technologies and practices preclude learning, or worse, are feared to be the harbinger of intellectual and societal decline. Although digital formats may be new, anxieties about the logistics of reading are not. Regarding feelings about reading, my preference is still for “the held book”. (I chose to read a book about digital reading in paperback format, after all.) Thus, I found Chapter 2, “The Held Book,” resonant in its exploration of how the affective intimacies of printed reading material, especially affect generated in childhood, shape our attitudes toward reading, learning, and teaching. Not only do university faculty express preferences for print over digital, but many students do as well. Cohn cites two decades of survey data, including from small liberal arts colleges, that suggests that students also prefer printed books. However, “[students] may very well opt to read in digital spaces out of convenience, accessibility, and efficiency” (79). Cohn argues that “our job now is to consider how we might harness those emotions to productive ends” (85).

Readers pressed for time or eager for practical information about “productive ends” might skip Part 1 (pages 33-91) and “dive” into Part 2 (pages 127 – 225). In Part 2, “Dive: Exploring the Digital Reading Framework to Promote Deep Reading Practices,” Cohn develops a framework which promotes “deep reading practices” through curation, connection, creativity, contextualization, and contemplation.” Cohn devotes a chapter each to these five “C” concepts. Each chapter includes: a discussion of relevant scholarship; multiple activity plans for the classroom; and a summary of “key takeaways”. The main drawback with the suggested activities is that they seem to skew toward the humanities or social sciences.
Part 3, “Surface: Critically Approaching the Adoption and Use of Digital Reading Technologies,” is by far the shortest section of the book (pages 251 – 298, excluding the references section). In it, Cohn addresses the ethical implications of digital reading, such as issues of privacy with online learning management systems, which some have criticized as “extractive” in nature. “Data collection in educational environments is predatory,” Cohn argues, “unless students and instructors have full and equal access to the data collected” (262). How instructors practically can manage privacy concerns with learning manage systems, unfortunately, is not addressed in depth in the chapter. In her conclusion, Cohn considers principles, practices, and futures for digital reading. This final chapter serves not only as a concise summary of an otherwise expansive approach to reading, but also functions as a flow chart or checklist in designing, administering, and evaluating digital reading activities. Part 3 also helpfully includes an appendix listing tools for digital reading. Readers seeking “how-to” guides on digital reading tools, however, will have to look to the suggested references for more information. Cohn’s book richly describes and cogently argues the “who, where, when, and why” of digital reading, but the “how” receives less attention.

Skim, Dive, Surface offers something for every instructor. “Take what’s useful and leave the rest” is advice Cohn offers her students, and she extends the same invitation to the reader (135). As I design my Spring courses, I will be revisiting the suggested activities in Part 2 and the recommended digital reading tools outlined in Part 3. Assigning “whole books” (or books at all) is part of a broader, timely conversation among many faculty at present, such as in the Center for Teaching’s recent panel on the use of textbooks. In the (post)pandemic era, we find that our students have become more accustomed to working with text in digital form, and perhaps we have, too. (Text)books are expensive, and as we pursue Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion goals, including accessible educational materials in our courses is more important than ever. Skim, Dive, Surface is an excellent place to start.