Reading Renaissance

What’s a reader to do when the last thing they want to do is read?

Books and stories have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Even before I actually knew how to read, I was making a passable attempt at it – memorizing the words that were read to me, and regurgitating them perfectly timed with each page flip. While like many kids I’d tried my hand at ballet, martial arts, and various instruments, reading was the one hobby that outlived them all. 

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

Visiting the library or the bookstore and coming away with a stack of 4 or so books was a regular habit. Each week, regardless of whatever else I had going on, I’d make my way through each book - learning more about myself, my hopes, and the world around me with each page I turned. Then, the next week I’d be back, ready to start again with a new array of stories.

 I’d never been particularly sure of what I was good at and I often felt like I didn’t have a tangible skill. As a budding contradictory perfectionist who wanted to immediately be good at something – while feeling overwhelmed by the requirements of practice and repetition – I envied those who’d mastered what I seemed unable to. But one thing I did have was my books. Over time, whether intentional or not, I’d come to define myself as a “Reader”. And how handy it was that the way I saw myself also brought me joy. I bought books, treating them with care and keeping them pristine; I talked books with friends and made recommendations; I adorned the flat surfaces of my house with the stories I’d amassed, wrapping myself in the wonderful thoughts and words created by others.

Then, the pandemic happened. 

While people were panic buying toilet paper and Purell (I was stocking it before it was cool, thanks), my big stop pre-shutdown was to the bookstore. I wandered through an eerily empty store, maybe encountering a handful of other people there that evening. I had no idea what was to come, but I figured that whatever it was, at least I’d be facing it with a few new books to tide me over. 

Yet, as the pandemic wore on, I found myself turning less and less to books. I was tired and anxious, unable to focus, and uninterested in adding the drama in books to the constantly unfolding drama of the world around me. What’s a reader to do when the last thing they want to do is read?

In lieu of books I threw myself into other things: Started school to find some semblance of stability, started gardening, did not learn how to make bread but did get back into learning French. Through it all though, I missed reading. I think the time has finally come to fix that.

So, when it comes to resolutions for the new year, in lieu of big goals of transforming into a new version of myself, I'm making a goal to get back to the old me. This year I’d like to become a ‘Reader’ again. 

 Here are some key steps that I’m hoping lead me back to the path of ignoring everything and everyone in exchange for getting lost in the pages of a good book:

Find a Ritual

I started off calling this section “Find a routine”, and then felt like “finding a ritual” may be more suitable for what I’m hoping to achieve. Let’s be honest, as good as they may be to have, “routines” and “habits” have started to sometimes feel – at least to me – like another ‘should’. One more thing to do because I have to, or I should do, and less of something that feels good and enjoyable. I want to get back to reading for the joy of it. 

In the last few years, the rituals associated with the start and end of the day – like reading during my commute – have fallen to the wayside. It was probably one of the habits I’ve come to miss the most. I loved the way it felt like it set me up for a day of focus and tied a ribbon at the end of my day, starting the wind down process, soothing the chaos of a busy train and easing me into an evening at home. 

People have written about the ability to separate oneself from their work, about giving what needs to be given to the job (giving Caesar’s things to Caesar as it were), and then going home to be your true self. But for a while, I’d felt like I was failing at both the job of being a person – a multi-faceted self – and failing at doing my actual job. I’d wake up at the last possible minute (or later…), roll downstairs, turn on my computer, and – it felt like – dissociate until it was a reasonable time to call it a day.  My cup was empty and I wasn’t filling it with anything, there was no inspiration I’d found in my job, and the sheer lack of new words, new sights, or new stimulation in any other area of my life, left me feeling depleted. While I don’t think all of that feeling could be chalked up to not reading, I think a large part of that disconnection from self, and  from joy,  could be tied to losing touch with something I’d long defined myself by.

I want to start my day tending to myself. I want to ritualize the process of reading. 

Lead with curiosity 

Every book doesn’t need to be in contention for the Pulitzer prize. It’s enough for it to pique my interest, to be an entertaining way to pass my time, to make me want to just pick it up and read. In the rare blips I had in the last few years of really getting into a book, I found that a good old romance book was the best way to lure me in. They were fun, generally didn’t mimic the crumbling societal systems happening in my real world, and best of all, everyone got a happy ending when all was said and done.  

That’s the energy I want as I jump into this next phase of reading, I want to find what’s appealing and interesting to me. 

I want to go back to my roots of mindlessly wandering through stacked shelves being lured in by an interesting cover, a familiar author, or an appealing blurb. I want to delve into topics and roll around in knowledge. Whether that be facts gleaned by a non-fiction pick, or the mental expansiveness that comes with connecting to a perfectly crafted sentence - either and both are welcome in this next phase of readerdom.

And for a fun change of pace, it’d be nice to cry from the dramatic turns of a character’s plight, or a historical event, rather than the current state of the world. 

“Read” all of the things (and ways)!

What’s the deal with audiobooks? I don’t know personally, but people that I consider friends love them. I think I’m finally ready to give them a real chance. I think that changing how I take in books may help in expanding the range of material that I’m able to engage with. Particularly, as a person who has long wanted to read more non-fiction while struggling with actually getting into a lot of non-fiction books, I wonder if a new approach to how I “read” them may be the key.

Besides, at the very least it’d help me save some space on my already overstuffed shelves.

Know when to call it quits

I feel like there was a time when I’d power through a book whether I was feeling it or not. Dragging it along in my bag back and forth on the train hoping that perhaps that day’s commute would be enough to make this book finally resonate with me in some way or another. But I’ve learned that sometimes, regardless of how lauded the author is, and how many times the book’s been recommended, the material just doesn’t land for me. AND THAT’S OK! Not all books are for everyone, and forcing yourself into a book you’re not feeling is certainly not the ticket to rediscovering one’s devotion to reading.

I want to better appreciate the realization that a book doesn’t mesh with the current version of me that’s meeting it, and be willing to put it aside — perhaps for a later self for whom the book would be perfectly suited. Or, in the case of some books, know when to thank them for their service and their existence, and send them off to be loved and spark joy in someone else’s life.

So as I venture into this next phase of readership, here are a few books I’ve got my eye on:

Happy Place by Emily Henry

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo (yes I already own it, no I have not started it. Hoping this year’s the year!)

Spare by Prince Harry (I know… I know but I’m nosy ok?! I think this will be my audiobook venture)

And lastly because a girl’s out here trying to parle français, I’m working through the Handmaid’s Tale – en français c’est “La Servante Ecarlate”

Anyone else out there with a desire to get back into reading? Or do we have any superstar readers in the audience who have been finishing books like nobody’s business? Thread some of your recent or forever faves below, some other books you’re looking forward to reading, or advice for fellow lapsed readers.