Hello
Hi, it’s been an absolutely horrible week and I think and hope I’ll write about it at some point but I don’t think I can do it yet. I lost someone who was very dear to me and who really was a remarkable person. Both my life and the world at large will be worse without him. There are no silver linings whatsoever. Sometimes life is just unspeakably awful.
I couldn’t bring myself to write anything deep this week but I did have this fun and light idea floating around my head so I guess I’ll go for it now. It was inspired by the number of people around me who keep complaining that they don’t read enough. I think I can maybe help.
Some pieces of advice
My story is a boring one, because it is very common. I loved reading when I was a child and could read entire novels in one sitting, then I became a teenager and discovered alcohol and kissing and I stopped reading altogether. As an adult I tried to pick it up again, repeatedly, and found that I just couldn’t manage it. There was this thing I knew I once loved, and wished I could love again, but I didn’t know how to go about it.
I experimented for a few years; would manage to read a lot for a few months at a time, then fall back into old, screen-based habits. I succeeded then failed, then couldn’t bring myself to try again for a while. After some experimentation, though, I believe I’ve now managed to become A Reader again, with a capital A and a capital R. Two years ago I read 31 books; last year, I read 44. We’re now in September and I’ve read 25 books this year already. I read again now, and it feels good. Here’s how I did it:
Always remember you’re the alpha of the relationship
The single best piece of advice I can give is that there is no point in persevering if you’re not enjoying a book. Some people will say “oh, but you should read at least 100 pages of a novel before deciding to put it back down” but they are wrong. You should not listen to them. Are you not having a good time after 50, 30, 15 pages? Just drop it. Stop reading immediately.
It is possible that you will, as a result, miss out on a few books which really do get better as time goes on, but that’s a price worth paying. When I thought back about times when I stopped reading regularly, I realised that they all had one thing in common. I’d been reading some novel I just couldn’t get into and forced myself to keep going and it just put me off the whole thing altogether.
You’re the alpha. You’re in control. Dump a book if you don’t like it. Do it the moment you realise you’re not having a good time. That goes for easy books and difficult ones; sometimes you’ll pick something up and know it’ll be a tough or complex read, but deep down you know you’ll always be able to tell the difference between “this is challenging me intellectually and it is painful but good for me” and “this sucks ass and I hate it”. On which note -
I just don’t want to bone Channing Tatum
Got nothing against the man! He seems lovely! I’m very happy that he has a very successful career, thanks in part to his good looks! Still, even if he came up to me tonight and asked if I’d like to take him out for a spin, I would politely say no.
This is something I come back to whenever I start reading a book that seemingly everyone in the entire world has adored, but I just can’t get into. Taste is wholly subjective. You can look at someone and think they’re obviously, objectively beautiful, but that doesn’t mean they have to do it for you. No-one’s in the wrong there. It’s fine. Just move on.
Out, out, out
This may also be controversial but I just don’t see the point in keeping books around if you tried to read them and didn’t enjoy them. Exceptions can be made for novels you tried and felt you could perhaps get into at some point but not right now - looking at you, the truly huge Hollinghurst currently on my shelf - but that’s what they are: exceptions.
If you tried reading a book and couldn’t do it, immediately put it in a separate pile then, once the pile is big enough, bring it to your nearest charity shop or tube station book exchange. It does mean that you’re unlikely to ever have some massive library in your home, which I admit always looks charming, but that is fine.
Keeping books you tried and failed to read, especially as someone who already doesn’t feel great about how little they’re reading, is like hanging a picture gallery of all former partners and flings on your bedroom wall. You just don’t want to go through life being reminded of your failures. Get them out of your sight as quickly as you can.
We’re cheap and proud
Listen, I probably shouldn’t be saying this as a published author but: I really think that you should buy most books second hand. I mean, unless you’re rich, obviously. Do prop up the publishing industry if you are rich. We would very much thank you for it.
If you aren’t, though? Obviously do the bulk of your book buying in charity shops, and browse all tube station book exchange shelves if you live in London. Buying new books is fine if you’re absolutely certain you’ll enjoy them but, for everything else, go cheap.
For a start, it’ll make it a lot easier for you to dump the book if you don’t enjoy it. It’s much easier to wave goodbye to £2.5o than it is to bin £12.99. Again, you should be the alpha there. Perhaps most importantly, it’ll also allow you to get out of your literary comfort zone.
I’ve been on a big Hungarian literature kick for the past few years and I just don’t think that would have happened if I’d just gone to regular bookshops. I found one intriguing novel in a charity shop, bought it and loved it, then decided to keep an eye out for Hungarian-sounding names whenever browsing shelves after that. It’s been great. I now get to be an unbearable jerk who says things like “I’ve been on a big Hungarian literature kick lately”.
Nearly all the books I’ve bought and loved over the past few years have been entirely random finds. The vast majority of them were published in the 20th century, and many of them are now out of print. Their authors are sometimes barely googlable, because they never truly made it. It makes me really happy that their great words still managed to find their way into my hands. They made my horizons wider, and kept these authors’ legacies alive. It’s a win-win.
Everything in its right place
This one may not apply to everyone but listen, this is my list and you’ll just have to deal with it. For a long time I struggled to read because - you’ll be shocked to hear this - I just found it a lot easier to be on the internet instead. What I had to do to deal with that was to establish spaces that were For Reading Only, and Not For Screens.
At first, that was the tube. I only ever read on the tube. I have this thing with my brain which means that I struggle to only do one thing at once, and for some reason reading on public transport was fine because I was technically doing one thing (reading) while doing another (travelling to a destination).
I still do the bulk of my reading on the tube but have also managed to trick my brain into sometimes reading at home. When I moved houses last year I bought a second, smaller couch, because my living room was unexpectedly large, and I am Not Allowed Screens On That Couch.
The main sofa in the room is for scrolling, the other one is only for reading. Similarly, in my old flat, I would sit on the windowsill in my living room - worry not, I was on the ground floor - and that was a space intended only for reading. I can’t pretend I understand why this works, but it does. Brains are quite dumb, really. You just have to game the system - which conveniently brings us to…
Everything can be a game if you want it to be
I can’t really remember why I decided to create a Google Doc and use it to log every book I’d read. I know I did it in 2019 - a year during which I read 15 books - and I know I have been doing it ever since. Some people may prefer various apps or websites but I didn’t want the open internet to know what I was reading.
I think reading is quite a private thing, really, and I’ll happily choose to talk about some novels with friends and strangers but I want that decision to have come from me. You shouldn’t peek under a lady’s skirt and you shouldn’t be able to know about everything she’s read recently.
Still, there is something hugely satisfying about finishing a book and getting to add a little line to your Google Doc. It makes the whole thing more finite. You did a thing and now the thing is formally over. It also means you can start comparing years, after a while. I know, for example, that I am unlikely to read as many books this year as I did last year, but 2024 is still likely to be my second best reading year since 2019. That’s very gratifying.
Cheating is fine, actually
A related point is that sometimes we simply do as we must, and there is no shame in that. Earlier this summer I was annoyed by how low the figure was for the 2024 column, and so I cheated and bought myself a few short and snappy little novels, and read them all in about two days each. That made the number get bigger, and that made me happy.
It also means that I can now tackle a few heavier hitters, because I’ve given myself the space to do so. I may take three weeks to finish the next book but that’s okay, there’s some leeway here.
Look back!
That’s the final thing. If you have a list of books in some format or another it’s really nice and good to look back on it a few times a year, and remind yourself of great books and okay books you read then maybe forgot about.
In 2019 I read Isolde by Irina Odoyetsteva and A Heart So White by Javier Marias and Embers by Sandor Marai and I can still taste them now. In 2020 I loved Slow Days, Fact Company by Eve Babitz and The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer. My 2021 was brightened up by Niccolo Tucci’s Before My Time and Jan Carson’s The Fire Starters.
I could go on - and will eventually make a Best Of The Past Five Years list - but you get the point. Reading is so great. I’m so glad I managed to really get reading again. If you’re feeling stuck at the moment, I hope that at least some of the things in this list will help you get reading again. It’s the best.
I have kept a record of every book I have read since I was 13 - now 45 years. It is fascinating to look back on
So sorry about your friend, Marie. So unfair.