26 books, 8 months: On reading for no one but myself

Since my introduction to Enid Blyton at the crisp age of seven, I was sucked into the world of words. Crime solving teen gangs to wizards going to magic school, rows of books lined up shelves at home. When the Covid-19 pandemic struck, I breezed through 75 titles in a year.

The secret

If you ask me my secret, let me be honest with you – I do have other hobbies. I crochet and paint. I catch almost every movie in the theatre, indulge in the occasional television binge and hang out with friends when our schedules match.

So, what’s the catch?

I invested in a Kindle early on, and thank myself for it every single week. I have always loved reading in the quiet of the night. Getting under the covers and picking up from where I left off while the rest of my family snored away in the dark was a superpower only backlit screens gave me.

Whether I’m lazing on a beach, or commuting to work, the ease and convenience of carrying a tiny device around has made reading consistent and enjoyable. Switching between 5 books in less than 5 minutes, or having access to literally any title I want my hands on? Yeah, I’m a lifelong fan.

Here’s what everyone tells you: schedule reading slots into your busy calendar, try habit stacking – sandwich reading in between nighttime meditation and journaling. Keep and carry a book everywhere you go. The final boss move? Get an accountability partner. Join a book club or read along with a friend.

All valid points, I admit. But unfortunately, none of those worked for me – because my friction wasn’t external. I wasn’t falling off my reading high because there was no book perched atop my bathroom shelf. I was fighting an uphill battle against a depleted attention span, and my crippling fear of judgement.

I used to pick up books based on what others were reading or recommending, and in an attempt to look cool, pushed myself to sit through pages of a story I actually had little interest in. With social media tempting me every second I stayed away from it, I wondered why I was putting myself through this terrible torture at all.

And then, I began reading solely for myself.

I made a conscious effort not to care about what others thought of the stories I chose and genres I picked. I barely post online about my current reads, and nod politely when someone recommends I add a book to my TBR. Then firmly file that thought away for later.

I let myself read seven historical romances back to back, or pick up a science fiction fantasy only when I want to. Life is too short to let peer pressure goad you into committing to a 600 page novel about dystopian societies struggling with class conflict. Because let’s be real, Brandon Sanderson on a bad day can push you down a reading slump so bad, you would need fanfiction to pull you out.

It’s easy to slip into performative reading habits – the urge to dissect and discuss plotlines and story arcs often made me turn to authors and genres I hated but pushed through. I felt like I belonged to a larger community, but it came at a greater cost – my love for reading.

I stopped reaching out for books, instead choosing to switch on Netflix or scroll for hours on Instagram. When online, I would watch people talk about poring over classics, and it would fill me up with dread. “Am I not smart enough to enjoy literature?” With guilt, came isolation. But little did I know, I was looking for validation in the wrong place.

The author’s top four reads. (Source: amazon.in)

Find your genre

I found my genre, and leaned into it.

When you stumble upon your comfort tropes, bite down hard, even if people call you silly. I love romance, and eat it up in almost any shape or form. Serve it up in a spicy angsty platter with an ‘enemies to lovers/forbidden romance’ bow tied on top, and I would stay up all night to finish it in one sitting. Here’s what I realised – if you know what makes you tick, choose it unabashedly.

Reading shouldn’t make life complicated. Whether you read to learn or escape, getting lost in between words should feel like a brush with magic. So the next time you feel like reading, put your phone down, or wrap the cover with newspaper. Go incognito and let the story pull you in, just like it was always meant to.

(As I See It  is a space for bookish reflection, part personal essay and part love letter to the written word.)

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