Dare I say we all like the aesthetic of reading more than the reading itself sometimes?
I’ve done it again. I’ve reached a point where I’m asking myself a question that is answered in the asking. Am I reading too much into this? The answer to that question is almost always yes, unless you have a desire to continue your descent into the depths of unfounded conspiracies and/or self-doubt.
A recent identity crisis I’ve been having has lead me to question my relationship with reading and also books, because the two exist separate of each other (ask anyone who buys books and lets them sit there with next to no intention of reading them). Most of us read the most as children, maybe have a phase that borders on addiction as a teen, and then we make the choice as to whether it’s something we’ll bring into adulthood.
I obviously made this choice first when I picked all essay subjects at A-Level and again when I decided to study for a degree in English, and even now when I occupy my time both with reading and thinking about what I want to read next. Not to mention that I also have a blog dedicated to books and reading. You don’t do these things if you don’t enjoy reading, unless torturing yourself is appealing to you somehow.
Despite these choices however, I’ve still found myself questioning my commitment. There are days when I read a maximum of ten pages, months where I read one book and only one book, and I don’t understand why. Do I read because I like it, or because I always have? Do I just like to own books? Do I merely enjoy the aesthetic of reading?
To answer these questions, I thought I’d write this post and share my conclusions. I think a lot of readers doubt themselves occasionally, especially when stuck in a bit of a slump or when comparing how many books they read to others, so this may have the potential to help you the way it has helped me.
Ask yourself: Why do I actually like reading?
Being active in bookish spaces on the internet for even a short space of time will show you how often even the most dedicated readers occasionally find themselves picking up a book with reluctance. From reading slumps to the general stresses of life, sometimes feeling the need to fight your way through a book can suck the fun out of an activity that’s supposed to be an escape.
At times like this, it’s best to remember why you like reading in the first place and that it has nothing to do with the consistency of your reading nor your enjoyment of the aesthetic (which I still think can be a valid part of your enjoyment). For me, the reasons to love reading are as follows:
- It’s exciting! – I love to lose myself in a new world or return to an old one through the simple act of following words on a page. Good writing has the power to make you feel a range of emotions for fake people you’ve never even met and if that isn’t impressive, I don’t know what is. It becomes even more impressive when you can share your love of good characters with friends and strangers.
- Mental Stimulation – Part of reading is remembering details about the characters, the setting, and the plot as the story comes together, so the act is good for your memory as well as your imagination. There is also the chance of coming across new words that can expand your vocabulary.
- It’s both a solitary and community-based hobby – If you want to, you can read a book and never share your thoughts with a soul, never even let anyone know you read the book at all. Alternatively, you can go online or look for a local book club and find plenty of people to discuss what you’ve read with.
- If you write, you should read – I can’t help myself. I love to read books to remind me why I aspire to be a better writer and assist me in getting there. Whether that’s because the books are amazing or kind of bad is irrelevant. Lessons, as well as inspiration, can come from anywhere.
As readers, especially online, we often need to remove ourselves from the borderline-competitive nature of everything from the number of books we read each month to the size of our TBR (to be read) piles. This is not what reading is about, and sometimes I forget. I even compare myself now—reading slower than ever—to myself in the past, ploughing through books in a matter of days, and this has the power to make me doubt myself as a reader, despite knowing I still enjoy it.
Whenever you need to, remind yourself why you really love reading and that is has nothing to do with the quantity of books you read, nor any other ‘goals’, but the quality. Isn’t it wonderful to lose yourself in a story that’s part author, part your own imagination? Reading is one of the only forms of storytelling that allows this kind of interactivity, encouraging you to fill in the gaps, and this is what you should focus on the next time you question your love of reading.
You’re not broken if you call yourself a reader and don’t feel like picking up a book today. Just try again tomorrow.
Read 'N Riot 