Since moving to New York, I’ve read 40 books, if I include the one I’m reading now. 25 of those are just from this year alone. In a stunning change of pace from the rest of my life, I hit my reading goal for the year by October. Not to be dramatic, but it's made my life so much richer and more fulfilling. It simultaneously the joy of riding a bike for the first time ever and riding one for the first time in a long time.
I was a self-described voracious reader as a kid. I repeatedly appeared at the top of the AR (Advanced Reader — Remember taking computer tests on books we read?) point rankings in elementary school, I ran through the YA dystopian section like I myself was fighting for my life, and I could literally recite Stella Luna as a toddler according to my parents (probably more to do with liking bats than liking books).
But my love of reading wasn’t natural and it definitely took some work, scolding, and weird forms of enticement. Allegedly, my parents installed mandatory reading time in my childhood because I was actually really bad at it, like so bad that my teachers made a comment about it.
So I was forced to read initially, like many children before me. What started as a chore and what felt like punishment soon became one of my greatest joys in life, a place of escape and peace. Eventually, I learned that forty-five minutes of reading every night was forty-five minutes of being left alone and independent thinking. I also soon realized that while I had a budget for everything else in life, my book budget was virtually unlimited (for used and paperbacks, at least). Ah, the days when Amazon was simply an online bookstore and not an evil corporation vying for a monopoly on every aspect of our lives.
Fifteen years later I pretty much ended up in the same situation, but my own will leading the charge to read instead of my parents and teachers. I recently forced myself to get back into reading and resume my identity as a voracious reader.
What prompted this campaign to read was “joining the real world.” After graduating college, I lacked daily intellectual stimulation, especially during COVID, and I swear I could feel my brain starting to atrophy. I could begin to feel the strong, flexible ridges in my brain becoming smoothed over by hours of TV, social media, simple repetitive work tasks, and significantly fewer enriching life experiences (COVID, amiright?). If I still had teachers, they’d be asking my parents to make me read at home.
To me, picking up reading as a hobby again was about returning to a version of myself that I liked, and that felt authentic. Returning to my roots in a way, but more about growing my roots beyond what they’ve ever been.
I left 2021 with this thought and really picked it up in 2022 when I set a reading goal of 20 books for the year. Looking back now, it was a slow start because I tasked myself with books that I felt carried a certain amount of clout or would give me a certain amount of cultural acumen. And, as it usually is with reading, it wasn’t until I read a really good book that I remembered what it’s like to devour it, to scrape every crumb off the plate just to enjoy whatever you can get of its universe. Thank you, Tara Westover, for writing Educated! After I read that, my hunger for books was piqued and I was reminded of how good it feels to read.
But to me, loving books and reading isn’t enough to make one a voracious reader. To be a voracious reader, you have to master the trained skill that is filling your time with reading.
The first month Scott and I moved to New York while we were bopping between his family’s apartments and I searched for a job, I picked up the infamous A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas. No, it wasn’t Tiktok, it was a recommendation from a Certified Voracious Reader friend who shrugged and said I could try Sarah J. Mass when I asked if she had a recommendation for a fantasy series.
That series allowed me to brush up on two other skills of reading. The first is the feeling of being in a fandom: Stalking the author’s media for signs of another book or morsel of info only true fans know, having an OTP, completely disagreeing with the fanart you found on Tumblr, and the temptation to buy a piece of merch that never sees the light of day and you ultimately feel ashamed for buying. The second was the act of filling your time with reading and learning to pull out a book instead of your phone or literally anything else.
The second aspect is far more important and the real key to being a voracious reader, and what’s kept me going through today. That period when I read ACOTAR changed everything for me because commuting all over New York City on public transit takes time, and even though I lost time for a lot of other things in my life, I found more to read. Where commuting in most of America means keeping your right foot on the gas and staring at asphalt for 30 minutes, one of the small perks of commuting by train and metro means you can stare at anything else for 30 minutes, including a book. Occasionally just 30 minutes of Instagram videos barely loading from a lack of service, but also a lot of books.
Near the beginning of 2023, something else happened that changed my book intake: I joined a book club. Made up of my four other roommates in our college house, we meet monthly to discuss a book that one of us picked that month. Being a part of a book club is honestly so fun. I can’t say that it’s the most impactful thing in my life, but talking about a book with some friends has a certain kind of power that I do recommend to anyone who reads.
Book club has challenged me to read books I’d never pick up myself, engage in meaningful literary and critical dialogue, and learn to pace myself and finish a book. It's the best part of being a student without the crippling deadline anxiety and imposter syndrome.
Now that I’ve read 25 books by October, naturally, because I love to indulge in the fun things in life, I’m going to amend my reading goal to 30 books. My TBR (To Be Read list) is 13 books long, but let’s just ignore that for now. We don’t need to bring up the delusions of one’s TBR. Let’s leave it at that.
If you don’t read books, thanks for reading this at least. But you should read books. Join a book club. Enrich yourself and think deeply. Read things that make you laugh, cry, and, most importantly, read more things. And also leave a comment on my posts because I am dying to know what you’re reading.