We explore how to nurture a more stimulating and fulfilling relationship with reading.
Words TESSA CONNELLY
I learned to read perched on my grandmother’s knee. She was chair-bound, I was about four years old. I remember the shimmering scales on the book The Rainbow Fish and my nanna’s finger skating beneath each word as she read out loud. As a child, reading was at once a solitary journey — my first independent adventure — and an exercise in connection; a shared joy. This paradox remains just as true and thrilling today.
This is not to say that my relationship with reading is an uncomplicated one. Very often, reading is not easy. It can be difficult to summon the concentration. I’m sucked into the vortex of my phone. Or I dip fretfully in and out of five books before landing, grateful, on something that feels right. My friends describe similar experiences, lamenting their reading “ruts” and lack of time. When I think of all that reading gives us — escapism, pleasure, knowledge, that vital experience of feeling understood — I’m frustrated that it’s sometimes so inaccessible and just so … hard.
A regular reading practice has demonstrated benefits. Studies published by psychologist Raymond Mar and professor emeritus Keith Oatley in 2006 and 2009 found that individuals who read fiction score higher on measures of empathy and “theory of mind” — the ability to think about others’ thoughts and feelings — than non-readers. As author Joyce Carol Oates puts it: “Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin, another’s voice, another’s soul.”
Examine
When I read, I am cracked open. I see and am seen. Alongside life’s abiding movement — new jobs, big loves, heartbreak, grief, growth — my reading life has been a steady current. But, like most worthwhile practices, it demands consideration. I spoke to a bookseller, a bibliotherapist and an English teacher about the barriers we face when it comes to reading, and how we can overcome them to foster more stimulating and fulfilling relationships with stories.
In order to discover books that captivate and delight us, we need to challenge the assumptions we have about our own taste. Just because you only enjoyed reading memoirs five years ago doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have the same preference now (although some things, like my love for Helen Garner, are eternal). Choosing what to read can be overwhelming, and with endless suggestions — from bestseller and prize-winner lists, to recommendations from friends, social media and critics — decision paralysis is common. Fortunately, help is available.
Jaclyn Crupi, an author, editor and bookseller of 10 years, says that while people are sometimes hesitant to ask for guidance, the aspect of her bookselling job she enjoys most is the matchmaking part, “where you’re putting the right book into the hands of the right person at the right time”. She typically begins by asking a customer to list some of their favourite books.
“I think knowing what someone has loved before can be really helpful,” she explains. “But then I also ask, ‘What are you in the mood for now?’ You might tell me some really heavy-hitting, literary prize-winning novels are your favourite books. But, right now, you’ve just had a baby
and you can’t focus and you have no time. So, suddenly, your needs are different. I try to match what was great about those favourite books with where you are now.”
A time-poor lover of fiction might find satisfaction in the discrete pleasure of short stories, and a heart-warming, funny novel might be a welcome comfort for someone overwhelmed by their stressful job.
If you feel drawn to deeper self-enquiry, you may even want to consult a bibliotherapist. These professionals employ literature — typically alongside more traditional therapy modalities — to guide people through life’s challenges and support their mental and emotional health.
Sonya Tsakalakis is a bibliotherapist and co-author of Reading the Seasons: Books Holding Life & Friendship Together. People seek out her help for all sorts of reasons: some are on the precipice of change, some feel disconnected from their reading habit and some want to learn how to read for enjoyment again after periods of heavy, analytical reading for work or study. According to Sonya, knowing where to begin can be daunting. She approaches this by addressing the way her clients structure their lives. She asks them: “How do you spend your time? How do you fill your days?”
Make space
It takes effort to develop new habits, especially in a world where distraction abounds. Sonya has noticed the increasing demands on our attention over the course of her career, as “technological disruption becomes more and more real”. In the past couple of years, this has been exacerbated by a lack of distinction between work and home. “The blurring of those boundaries is affecting our ability to engage with books,” she says.
Harriet Mestitz, a secondary school English teacher, is witnessing similar challenges in the adolescents she teaches. Her students are not only suffering from far too much screen time, but also from the more profound psychological impact of social media. “There’s an all-consuming pressure of always needing to know what’s going on with others,” explains Harriet. “There doesn’t seem to be much quiet time going on in these kids’ lives.”
Harriet invites her students to read a book of their choice for the first 10 minutes of every class. “It works a bit like meditation.
All of the stuff that’s been happening in their lives disappears while they concentrate on their book. I’ve found that it’s twofold — one, they realise they can find something they like to read, and two, it puts them in the right mindset, more relaxed and present. For a moment, they’re not in their own heads.”
According to Jaclyn, this kind of deep reading requires pragmatism. “Your phone should not be with you,” she says. “Move rooms, find a comfy spot and really let the book work its magic.”
Play
Adult life can be serious at the best of times, but we’re currently living through a period of significant social, economic and environmental stress. It’s no wonder, then, that we’ve forgotten how to be playful: to engage in activities not because they’re worthy or productive, but just because we want to.
There’s a case to be made for viewing our reading lives through a more playful, curious lens. In Reading the Seasons, Sonya describes the joy of a client reflecting on their fondest childhood book memories. “And while doing so,” she writes, “I am thinking, ‘What books can I prescribe that will cast the same glow?’”
We need to forget all the rules we’ve been told about reading. There’s no shame in abandoning a book if you’re 30 pages in and aren’t enthralled. Reread with indulgence. Join your local library: it’s free, which means there’s no financial risk in trying something outside of your comfort zone. It’s also worth experimenting with format: Jaclyn, Sonya and Harriet all sing the praises of audiobooks, not only as a means of bringing a text to life, but also as a way of inviting stories into your day while you’re doing something else, such as cooking or exercise.
There is exquisite luxury to be found in stealing back 20 minutes before bed to embrace this idle-seeming activity. As Jaclyn says, “Reading is a way to do nothing while you’re doing something. I think that’s the beauty of it.”
Tessa Connelly is a writer and publishing professional interested in books, bodies and the natural world. She lives in the Victorian Otways with her partner and their dog.
This article was originally found in Being Magazine Issue 10
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