Just read

I started this year with a goal to read thirty-six books. Towards the end of last year I was easily averaging two to three books a month, so thirty-six seemed like an achievable goal.

I clearly overestimated myself, because I’ve only read ten books so far in 2025. In fact, this might end up being my worst year of reading since I started tracking my books on Goodreads in 2013.

So what happened this year that prevented me from reading more? It wasn’t a lack of time, energy, or interest. I didn’t take up a new hobby, start a challenging job, or get into a new relationship. I didn’t travel more than usual, nor did I fall sick more often than I usually do.

What went wrong was that I kept getting in my own way.

I turned reading into a chore by insisting on taking detailed notes on everything I read. Instead of relaxing on my couch with a good book and a hot beverage, I read at my desk with a pencil in hand, underlining interesting passages and scribbling in the margins. For some books that I considered particularly important, I typed up extensive notes.

This changed my relationship with reading. Instead of something I did for pleasure in my free time, it started feeling like work. Instead of something I could pick up and put down whenever I wanted, books became sacred objects that could only be approached at specific times in specific parts of my house. I started avoiding reading, which bred guilt, which bred resentment.

Today, reading has gone from being a normal part of my daily life to something I do once or twice a week, something I have to put on my todo list and check off like a chore.

It sucks.

So I’ve been trying something new: I’m reading without taking notes, highlighting important lines, or even trying to remember everything I read. If I encounter something important, I re-read it or stop to reflect for a minute. But at no point do I turn my reading time into a study session.

I’m finding this surprisingly difficult to do. I’ve become so used to extracting maximum value out of my books that to just read them for pleasure feels like a radical, uncomfortable act. Without that pencil in my hand, I’m actively anxious while reading.

But I keep reminding myself to just read. To not try to remember and catalog every little bit of information I come across. Books are not resources to be mined, but meals to be enjoyed. If something is important, it will come back to me. If it’s not, no amount of highlighting or note-taking will make it stick.

I’m hoping by allowing myself to just read, I can change my relationship to reading and go back to enjoying it like I used to. The number of books I finish this year is not even important. I just want reading to once again become something I do as a matter of course in my daily life, not as a sacred act that requires complex rituals.

I miss reading for pleasure. I’m hoping I can find that joy once again.