A love affair at the library of shame

I have not read more than 5% of the books I own. This doesn’t mean that if I own 100 books, I have only read 5 of them. It means that if across those 100 books, there are a thousand pages- I haven’t read more than 50.

I have never been much of a reader. I’ve known this fact all my life but at some point, I started to feel bad about it. After all, reading is (marketed as) the most profound way for anyone to grow, and growing as a human being has been one of the central; if not the only; personal goals that I have deeply cared about. Besides this existential reason, I used to feel bad about the resources wasted in buying a book that I probably (95%) won’t read.

There came a phase where I didn’t buy new books till I didn’t finish the one I was currently reading. That didn’t last long because I really suck at finishing books. Then came one where I moved to Kindle because the guilt of wasting paper was weighing heavily on me. I read even less on Kindle (<2%). Some of the other phases included learning to speed read (HAHA) or to read only a certain genre of books and many more. But nothing seemed to solve my problem- I continued to buy books and I continued not reading them much.

Fortunately, I have now reached a unique understanding with books- the type of understanding that you reach with old friends. It began as most such understandings do- I asked myself a simple Q and answered it authentically. What are my expectations from these books? And it didn’t take me much time to realize that I don’t care about finishing a book.

What I do care about is learning something about myself or this world that we all live in from each book that I pick up. And this I can do- This I have always done- there have been times when an idea on Page 2 of a book has inspired a trajectory that has taken me on a fascinating new adventure in life, a few times where reading one chapter has led me to change some crucial ways of thinking that have opened up new possibilities for me, or simply times where reading an anecdote in a book has helped me work through some personal struggles. Simply clarifying my expectations has made me realize that for me books aren’t for reading. For me they are tools of inspiration created by fellow human beings and that’s perfectly alright.

I used to think I can’t say that I love books because if I did wouldn’t I be reading all the time? However, since the moment I became clear of my expectations from books (outside of what’s ‘supposed’ to happen) my love affair with them has only blossomed. Now I do many things with them- I freely buy books, take care of them, read them, write about what I learn from them, retire them after reading three lines, or read the same book thrice over.

I wish for you to experience this love affair with someone or something that inspires you to be more you :)