Anne Guy, one of Leeds Living’s new writers, shares her interesting perspective on reading.
These days, it’s become almost fashionable to say, “I don’t read.” People cite all sorts of reasons: they lack the attention span, they’re intimidated by the size of books, they associate reading with being overly intellectual or nerdy, or they simply believe they have better things to do.
But is that really true? Is it impossible to get these self-proclaimed non-readers to turn the final page of a 546-page novel?
I don’t think so. In fact, I’d argue that the problem isn’t reading itself; it’s that these people haven’t found the right book.
For years, I made myself read classics like Anna Karenina because I loved the idea of reading Russian literature more than the experience of it. I wanted to be the kind of person who read Tolstoy, but truthfully, I found the characters dull, the pacing slow and the reading itself a chore. As a result, I finished maybe one book a year, and even that felt like a struggle.
When I got to university, I assumed this was a universal truth: that classics were boring but carried cultural significance, so we forced ourselves through them. But then I met a friend who genuinely loved the Austens. She spoke about the characters in Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility with warmth and joy. She adored Little Women, a book I couldn’t get past fifty pages of in two months. That’s when it hit me: maybe the issue isn’t that people don’t enjoy reading, but that they’re being recommended the wrong books for them.
Take one of my friends as an example, a self-proclaimed non-reader. She’s chatty, thrives on social energy, and likely has undiagnosed ADHD. She swears she hates reading. But I know she’s addicted to dating and rom coms. If she gave Everything I Know About Love or A Court of Thorns and Roses a try, I’m convinced she’d be hooked. These books are fast-paced, emotional and packed with relatable characters, exactly the kind of storylines she already enjoys, just in a different format.
Ever since then, I’ve started a little game with myself: whenever I walk to class, the shops or work, I think about what book would suit the people in my life. I mentally match stories to personalities the way a sommelier pairs wine with food. It’s deeply satisfying to sift through the books I’ve read, want to read, or have heard great things about, and figure out which friend would love which one.
So if there’s anything you take away from here, let it be this: First, everyone is a reader. Second, there’s something deeply joyful about thinking of the perfect book for someone you love.
