Competing with Books
- 2 days ago
- 6 min read
Every new book is a mountain that grows a little taller; every passing year is a path that grows a little shorter.
Since the start of the year, I’ve come across an increasing number of articles about reading habits. Some questioned reading speed, while others questioned the act of reading itself. At some point, I finally set aside some time to reflect on the topic. While I agreed with some of the points made, I would now like to share my own thoughts on the subject. I’d love to hear from you in the comments section about your reading habits.
Reading trends vary over time. The factors behind these changes are just as varied. Some reflect changes in genres, while others highlight changes in reading styles. Here, however, we'll be discussing a change at the core of reading itself: the essence of the act.
People continue to buy books. It could be said that this desire remains strong. However, buying a book is not the same as reading it.
The decision to buy a book is often sparked by a recommendation, curiosity about the story or an experience that triggers a journey into the unknown. Another important reason, of course, is the human urge to collect. The instinctive inclination to hoard, collect and possess. Buying books can bring us comfort, and sometimes we even get the feeling that we have already read them. This deceptive mental experience affects many of us from time to time.
You might be wondering why I’m bringing this up. It's because our conscious and unconscious tendencies are revealing something about us. One aspect of this is our desire to own things. It's not just about buying things; it's about consuming them. Not reading them, but consuming them.
The desire to get hold of the latest release, the bestseller or the most highly recommended book as soon as possible strikes me as rather interesting, to be honest. It seems like a sign of haste that goes beyond mere curiosity. It's as if the book were about to sell out and everyone else would be talking about it, leaving us in the dark. Perhaps the underlying issue is feeling left behind because we are not reading it, and therefore unable to form an opinion. I suppose that's a rather superficial perspective. Still, I’m not sure. The constant stream of new books on social media in particular reinforces this feeling. It's as if bookshops are entering our homes online. It's as if they're saying, “Get this one too, and don't forget that one.”
I’ve cut down on my reading recently. It wasn’t by choice, but I’m less upset by the situation than I used to be. I know that our reading and writing habits tend to fluctuate depending on the time of year. However, I used to find this frustrating. I’d feel as though something was missing. I saw it as something I ought to be doing and would occasionally berate myself for not doing it. To be honest, there were times when I thought I was missing out on things.
To emphasise my point, I'll remind you of something we're all aware of: life is too short to read every book. Yes, that’s quite true. However, while the idea that 'life is short' may encourage us to make more considered choices, it can also push us to read in a more frenetic, serialised manner. As we internalise the idea that we can’t keep up with everything, we lose sight of the bigger picture. While we strive to do our best, we want to finish what we have set aside as quickly as possible.
Our bookshelves are already overflowing with books. Even if the figures change, thousands of new books are published every year. For many of us, our bookshelves continue to grow faster than we can read. This drives us to read quickly.
Because we worry. Even if we buy all the books ourselves, there will always be some that we read and some that we don't. With every new book we read, we feel compelled to prioritise. Yet by the time we have finished reading a book, we may find ourselves engrossed in entirely different thoughts. We might even buy another book mentioned in it or one recommended by the same author. This means more books, and more books, and more books. The moment we realise we can’t cope, trying to speed things up is no longer an option. It seems to me that we’re now more inclined to read hurriedly than before. We can’t escape it. We feel compelled to do so.
However, what I’m really curious about is this: at what point does this haste come at a cost? I suppose the answer lies in the small, familiar moments we experience while reading.
Reading quickly undoubtedly affects comprehension. Most of us have probably found ourselves constantly having to go back over the same sentence or paragraph, moving our eyes over the text while our thoughts wander elsewhere.
I find this quite normal. Sometimes, we find ourselves in an imaginary debate programme, arguing with what is being said and disagreeing with it. For me, reading a book is partly about this. So, what does this require? Time, of course. Reading slowly and focusing on the parts that make you think. Understanding and valuing. It means not being afraid to reread passages and not feeling as though you’re falling behind. How much of this can we achieve when we skim through a book? In fact, we don't even want to do that. We just want to get it over with as soon as possible. So that we can melt away the mountain of paper towering over us.
Every writer dreams of being read. Every book waits to be read. Every reader wants to finish it.
If we are quick readers, finishing a book creates the opportunity to start the next one. This diminishes the value of the previous book, enabling us to view the new one with fresh eyes. But is this how it should be? A book can be studied closely if necessary. The benefit gained can be increased. We can do this out of respect for the author, even if we don't know them personally and have simply fallen in love with some of their writing. Sometimes, consulting a dictionary or doing some research can enhance the experience. Allowing ourselves a day or two to take a break and reflect on what has been said feels good. This helps us to truly understand what we have read. Even if we don’t understand it, discussing it and exchanging ideas can be a pleasant and educational experience. Yet one sentence comes to mind regarding all this: “Who has the time for any of this?”
I suppose that’s part of it. As we've said before, it's something we'll only realise when the flow of books never stops. It reminds us that we’re human. Let's be honest: we want to read as much as possible before we die. We want to read this one, that one, the latest release, a friend’s recommendation and so on. Let me break it to you harshly: think about your age. Can you put a time limit on your own life? Probably not. So don't try to do the same with books. If you absolutely must, work out how many books you could read in your remaining years. Multiply the average number of books you read per year by the number of years you have left, and that should give you an idea of the size of your library. Make a list of the books you want to read for the rest of your life and accept that there's no point in rushing.
You must make time to read. After all, the time you set aside for reading is time you spend on yourself. Nor should you be afraid to reread a book. However, if you find yourself thinking, 'I'd rather read another book than read this one again,' then I can't argue with that. After all, my words are meant to serve as reminders. Besides, no one can tell you what to do in this regard. As the years go by, though, this idea can become ingrained, and we may stop returning to that book and remembering its characters. After all, a second reading now feels like a luxury.
Don't we say, “I'll read this again in years to come,” about the books we consider to be the finest? Sometimes we even find ourselves thinking, “If only I’d forgotten it, then I could read it again as if for the first time.” Maybe a good book isn't one that ends with the first reading, but one that begins again with the second.
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