When I read “The Art of Reading Less” by Brian Sztabnik last week, my reading soul resonated with so much of what he wrote – the pressure to set reading goals and track books, the desire to want to read more, and the ability to have a meaningful experience with a book. Like Brian, I have made efforts to read more deeply; however, my reading life is multifaceted and the deep reading category doesn’t always apply. I have also struggled to remember characters and plot points in some books weeks after finishing them, but still I wonder, should deep reading always be the goal?
Story time:
On a trip to Italy a few years ago, we ate homemade pasta, pizza, and gelato daily; after all, food is a primary reason to go to Italy. We tried all kinds of food and were always thinking about what our next meal would be. But we noticed something while we were in different restaurants: we would eat and leave while others who were there before us were taking their time slowly eating dinner. Italians say it’s “the American way” – we rush through our meals to get to the next thing while the next thing for Italians is the meal. They eat bruschetta, sip wine, eat cheese and crackers, sip wine, eat pasta, sip wine, eat chicken or beef, sip wine, and finally eat tiramisu and have coffee. We were told a typical Italian dinner lasts 2-3 hours as opposed to our maybe one hour dinner. We wanted to have the Italian food experience, but we also had things to do and see. Time was of the essence. So we carved out a couple of nights to enjoy leisurely dinners at a trattoria and ate the rest of our meals rather quickly – a slice of pizza or panini (or gelato – don’t judge) while walking to our next destination.
Reading can be like eating where readers typically fall into two categories: those who read deep and those who read wide. Deep reading is a slow, methodical working through a text savoring and enjoying the words, phrases, and passages (Our Wives Under the Sea or The Vaster Wilds) while wide (or maybe shallow) reading is often a frantic turning of pages to see what happens next (The Silent Patient or Lessons in Chemistry). As with most things in my life, I tend to be a both/and rather than an either/or when it comes to reading and read both deep and wide depending on the book or the occasion. I should also note that a lot of my reading falls somewhere in between these two extremes with speeding up and slowing down throughout a book.
I have a high capacity for reading and read a lot. It’s no wonder I’m an English teacher (that and my lack of ability to do well in microbiology); reading is core to who I am. Reading is not only a personal hobby, but I also read for professional purposes. I’m often asked about book and/or my reading life. How do I read so many books? How do I balance deep and wide reading? What does my reading life look like?
My reading life is much more random than one might think (unless you’re a friend then you know . . .) but here are some tenets true to how I read:
Tracking Reading
I used to be a book goal setter, GoodReads logger, and overall book counter. However, I gave this up because at times I found myself more concerned with the metrics of reading than reading for enjoyment. I also realize that numbers are tricky because not all books are the same. Should The Covenant of Water, a saga that spans multiple generations deals with themes of classism, family dynamics, and identity, at 736 pages count the same as Dear Committee Members, an epistolary novel less than 200 pages that pokes fun at the humanities (buckle up, English majors)? Promises of Gold, Look at This Blue, and Unaccompanied are a few of the poetry collections I read this year which take far less time than The Firekeeper’s Daughter, The Making of Biblical Womanhood or Trampoline. When I see completed book stats – whether it be mine or someone else’s – I recognize the numbers don’t give the full story, yet I am still interested in knowing how many books I read in a year. I now total the number of books I read at the end of the year instead of tracking throughout. This keeps my focus on reading for joy (whether deep or wide) rather than checking an item off a list. I maintain my GoodReads (not currently up to date) by updating books three to four times a year in order to have a reading record (primarily for professional purposes – choosing books for class, CB work, presentations, and also book recommendations) but not be focused on recording. Interestingly enough, I fall between 60-65 books yearly even without tracking; that seems to be my sweet spot for yearly reading.
Book Density
Just like watching mindless tv, sometimes I want to read a book that doesn’t require much effort. For example, after reading The Vaster Wilds, Let Us Descend, and The Land of Milk and Honey at the end of 2023 coupled with the end of a school semester, my capacity for holding weighty ideas and issues was zero, and I craved some lighter reading at the beginning of 2024. So I started the year with The Five Star Weekend (my first but not last Hilderbrand novel) which was just what I needed for some fun reading over break. If I’m at the beach or pool, I will most likely not pick apart passages with a highlighter in hand (notice I say most likely because I have been known to have highlighters at the pool). Books that require less reading effort are a steady part of my reading life just as much as deeper reads. Lessons in Chemistry, Tom Lake, Carrie Soto is Back, Mad Honey, and Now is Not the Time to Panic are all books that I loved but read quickly and without marking. Some books, even if they address heavier subjects, require less of me as a reader.
Yearly Slow Reads
Without making a spreadsheet to track (again – trying to get away from this and also not my personality), I am cognizant of setting aside a few books to read deeply. Each year I reread a classic. Last year I reread Dracula, the year before East of Eden, and this year I’m rereading Moby Dick with a couple of friends. I have read the intro to Girls Burn Brighter too many times to count because it is so beautiful. I LOVE the act of rereading as these books posit themselves to become a part of who I am. I also set aside time each year to slowly read one or two prize winning or highly recommended books: Demon Copperhead and Trust took a while to get through (for different reasons) and both deserved time and space. Planning ahead for serious reading feels so luxurious, and fully dissecting a book can be richly satisfying. Finally, I typically have a faith-centered book as part of my morning reading routine which I break into small sections over a longer period of time in order to fully digest (currently The Good and Beautiful God). Sometimes, though, slow reads find me. As soon as I picked up The Vaster Wilds and Let Us Descend, I knew these books required more mental capacity than my normal reading and carved out time to fully savor them.
Personal Capacity
I tend to read faster than most people by nature and acknowledge this; I also tend to run slower than most people and acknowledge this. We all have different capacities. Seasons of life affect capacity as well. I am an empty nester and have more time to devote to reading than my friends who have young children at home. What many people fail to pay attention to, however, is the ebb and flow of a calendar year. I tend to read more in the winter than in the summer (the opposite of most teachers), so I plan accordingly. Since our chilly winters here in Atlanta drive me inside (HA), December, January, and February are months I devote to longer reads and rereads. June and July are heavy work months with the AP Reading (and who wants to read after reading essays all day) and consulting, so I don’t feel bad backing off during these months and/or reading shorter works or poetry collections (which are easier to pick up and put down). Recognizing capacity and calendar patterns and ordering my reading life around them has been helpful.
In the classroom I am known to say “there’s no one right answer,” and I’ll modify for that for this conversation: there’s no one right way to read. Since I’m gearing up for Hamlet, I’ll leave you with this advice for your reading life: “To thine own self be true.”
Books referenced in this post (unless otherwise noted) are books I read in 2023.
Susan Barber teaches AP Lit and Writers Workshop/Advanced Composition at Midtown High School in Atlanta, Georgia and serves as the College Board Advisor for AP Lit. In addition to reading, writing, and investing in the next generation, she loves watching college football with her family especially when Alabama is playing.
