Last night, I went to a sprawling bookshop in Kuala Lumpur, called Books Kinokuniya. We were in a mall, figuring out what to do next, and that’s when I saw this bookshop. I have to confess, I hoard books more than I read them. I think this is owed partly to nostalgia and partly to hope - more on that in a bit.
So my partner and I went along the many many isles, loaded with interesting books - some familiar, most not. In the almost 2 hours that we spent in that store, there were so many books that we wanted to bring home. We settled with four (and some yum pens).
But each time I’d see a familiar title on a shelf, I’d share a little anecdote with my partner about how I had read this book when I was in school, along with some related details. The common denominator in many of these anecdotes was “read in school.”
The Nostalgia
When I was in school, I was a big reader. I was reading literature back to back. I read all those Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys, alongside the Anna Karenina’s and the To Kill a Mockingbird’s. I also must confess that I didn’t understand the true intended meaning behind some of these big titles at the time; didn’t understand the social message buried in them. But I read them still, just for the joy of reading and storytelling.
In fact, I remember my proudest memories back then were being in the top 1% of readers on this reading app, Pocket, while also reading 11 physical books - all in one summer vacation.
And that reading then culminated into a fictional short story blog I started writing back in 2010. I think my reading career peaked around this time.
What was it back then that made reading come so easy? And what is it that makes it so hard for me now?
The Hope
As you probably already know by now, one of the reasons I wanted to write here was because I hoped it would force me into reading more. Smart as I am, I’ve found a way around that through journalistic writing which makes it possible to write without reading (yet).
The four books we bought yesterday were also bought in the hope that we will read more. It remains to be seen, and maybe you’ll hear about it here again (or maybe you won’t). But I like to think that it wasn’t all baseless hope, and that if I persevere long enough, I will pick a book up because I really really really want to.
Which makes me wonder what makes it so hard when there’s so much intention, right?
The Hard Part
Skinner found in his experiments that habit formation needed 3 things - stimulus, the behaviour itself, and the consequence (positive or negative reinforcement). If I was to apply this to my current circumstance, my stimulus is the intrinsic itch to read, the presence of and access to books I find interesting, and the consequence… well, that’s where waters get murky.
I’ve been noticing that lately when I’m reading a book, I’m easily distracted by my phone, yes, but also my thoughts. I can keep my phone out of reach but controlling my thoughts is a whole other meditative ballgame. My mind deviates to groceries we need to buy, flights to be booked, plants to be watered, posts to be written, appointments to book.
The amount of time available to me has not shifted, but the demands on time have exponentially!
While I’m reading a book, I’m also constantly weighing whether this is the best use of my time. I’m starting to evaluate my time reading against the value it is creating for me. Now books, they are all about slow-burn value creation. So as you’re sitting there, reading gently, like you’re steeping a nice cup of tea, your brain is feeling guilty for all of it and trying to pull you away from the book and into more instantly gratifying activities. Of course, this is also a consequence of our capitalist conditioning that shames resting.
So bringing back Skinner’s operant conditioning, in my case it seems like the consequence is positive by design and negative by practice. You start the activity hoping for a feel-good outcome, but somewhere along the way, it becomes a negative, guilt-ridden, slow-moving process. And this constant push and pull is exhausting. And I think this is the hard part.
If I were to decide how to navigate these murky waters, perhaps I’d advice myself to hold reading time as sacred as I would, say, a work meeting slot. But that’s a whole lot of social, cultural, economic conditioning to undo, #crie. This is not to say that there’s no hope for I am going to continue trying. It’s just that, I find it immensely easy to prioritise all other demands over my own, and it’s a whole other mountain to climb before I can overcome or manage that enough to not worry about it. So here are some things I’m going to continue trying as I relearn how to read: finding a reading (accountability) partner, keeping a book close to me and bringing it with me everywhere I might get a chance to read, levelling my expectations and trying to read a couple of pages consistently, keeping my phone away, and being patient with the book’s value to become known to me. Anything I should try that in your experience has worked? Let me know - you know where to find me.