Reading physical books is a habit that I have struggled to fully regain after having a baby two and a half years ago. It’s not that I haven’t finished books in the last two years, but the natural habit of picking up a book in my spare moments has been lost to so many other things, and too often to my phone. While I somehow never struggle to find time to read the internet — which only ever leads to more open tabs — the finite nature of books requires a quality of attention that is harder to access.
One of the most powerful motivators for real change in my life is simple: getting sufficiently tired of my own bullshit. Recently, when I explained my infuriating habit of obsessing over my lack of unstructured free time to my therapist, she said, somewhat cautiously, “I know it’s annoying to hear, but we have the power to choose our own thoughts.”
That sounds like a maddeningly positive spin on what is ultimately a structural problem. But I immediately understood where she was coming from. I can’t do much more than I already am to improve the underlying conditions of my life (Build a village! Accept any and all help that is offered! Lower my standards!) but getting stuck in a ceaseless thought loop about my lack of free time is, ironically, eating into my small amount of free time.
So in late November, I decided no more. I was going to get into the habit of reading some goddamn books again if it kills me. I was going to stop pining for those languorous pre-kid Saturday morning reading sessions and start carving out smaller slices of time to read.
But why books? 🐌
There are lots of posts online about how to read more books. Less common is why reading more books is a worthwhile pursuit. I think it’s worth dwelling on that for a moment, because it’s actually the thing that got me reading again.
In the last couple of months, I found myself thinking a lot about this art installation by John Booth of Supergroup Projects at Yoga on the Lane, a very special yoga studio in east London. Something about these snails was captivating me — why on earth did I find them so compelling?!
I realized it was because the snails effortlessly embody a truth that I am drawn to: The most efficient way of doing something isn’t necessarily the most valuable, meaningful, or beautiful. And I reckon reading books falls squarely into that category. The slowness, the presence, the singularity of mind that reading a book requires is why I want to do more of it. It’s the same reason yoga works so well for me. Doing either activity means you can’t be doing other things.
It would be easy to say something along the lines of, “I’ll get back to reading when my child is: [insert easier future parenting stage here].” But I have to tell you, I worry what state my brain will be in when (or even if) that day comes. There are so many powerful forces vying to consume our attention in destructive, profit-generating, and extractive ways. I can feel them changing my brain day by day.
When I started to think about books as a values-based activity that can bring more slowness, contemplation, and deep thinking back into my life right now, something shifted. Finding time to read stopped feeling punitive, and more like an invitation to join the snails in their unapologetic pursuit of slowness.
So here are the ways I’m applying that spirit to reading this year. A lot of these tips can apply to other activities you want more time for in your life: exercise, meditation, or any creative pursuit.
1. Delete the fucking apps
You can read this tip and stop reading the post if you want, because it’s the most important one. Delete all the social media apps on your phone. If you have an endless supply of Doritos in your house, you’re going to do one of two things: Eat Doritos constantly, or use your precious brainpower to prevent yourself from eating them. They are scientifically engineered for you to do so. But if you have to walk or drive to the shop in order to get the Doritos, that adds a little friction. You can probably resist that. The apps are exactly like Doritos.
I can’t delete social media entirely, and you probably can’t either. But removing my most tempting apps — Instagram, Reddit, and Substack — from my phone most of the time means I break the cycle of constantly picking up my phone to look at them. (I stopped using Facebook in 2017 and Twitter in 2021 like a sane person). Without the apps, my phone becomes less compelling, and my brain becomes more interested in other pursuits.
When I do download the apps onto my phone, it’s for a discrete amount of time — a weekend, say, or because I want to post something — then I soon return to my default setting of deleting it. I tend to check Instagram on my laptop once a day, and find that the browser version is much less of a time suck for me. Again: just add friction between you and the thing you don’t want to do.
2. Just 25 minutes
I’ve written several times before about how 25 minutes is the perfect unit of time to commit to if you want to do more of something, be it writing, reading, working out. I’ve started adding 25 minutes of reading time to my to-do list each day, and I try to not leave it for right before bed, when my willpower is completely extinguished. Once I’ve done my 25 minutes, I tick it off my paper to do list, which my silly little brain loves.
I’ve noticed that reading begets more reading. If I’ve done my reading time earlier in the day, I’m more likely to want to read more before bed, because my brain is already in the story or narrative, and so it feels like less of a hurdle to crack open a book. It’s the same thing as getting stuck in a loop, except it’s the good kind.
3. Book dates
This is my favorite one. Once week, I go to a pub or cafe and do my allotted reading time with a half pint or tea and cake. It’s just a tiny sliver of time — usually on my walk to pick up my son on one of his three childcare days — but it’s somehow extremely luxurious and pleasurable. I feel like I’m getting away with something every time.
4. Read to meet the moment
One of my stumbling blocks was that I like reading “big ideas” non-fiction, the stuff that really ignites my brain and makes me think deeply about the world around me. Often these books are long and require a high level of focus. But the reality is I’m not always in the mood for this in my current stage of life. While a past (and hopefully future) version of me may have happily zoomed through an 800 page history of Silicon Valley, current me can’t get past page 200. So in the past couple months I’ve been reading some shorter, less ambitious books to build the habit again. Before bed, I try not to read heavy non-fiction at all.
I know it’s controversial to read more than one book at a time, but I’ve found it useful to have a couple books on the go for different energy levels, moods, and times of day. If I leave the instructional gardening book I’m reading downstairs by the sofa, I’m more likely to pick it up for ten minutes while my son miraculously plays on his own. If I have my non-fiction book in my bag, I can get 15 minutes of reading in on the bus instead of scrolling. It all adds up.
5. Read non-fiction with a pencil
That said, when I am reading the meaty non-fiction stuff, which I’m usually doing for research, I do so with a pencil. It gives my brain and hands something to do, which makes me less likely to get distracted. Also, a freshly-sharpened pencil is an underrated delight.
If there is a guiding ethos I am taking into the new year, it is this: Use the time that I do have, not the time I wish I had. If I’m going to get stuck in a loop, it might as well be one that takes advantage of the small yet meaningful ways I can assert agency in my own life.
With thanks to Naomi Annand for the 🐌 photos. I interviewed her last year about making meditation feel easier — it’s another good read for a new year.
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Loved this! I went through a similar stage when my now 5 year old was a baby/toddler. One thing that was really helpful for me was to build back a library habit. I was going there pretty regularly anyway with my daughter, but did not have time to browse the stacks for me as well as her. Instead I built the habit of reserving a book from the library (through their app) every time I was tempted to buy one. Once they arrived, the low-stakes urgency of needing to read it before it was time to bring it back acted as an extra push to commit time to reading. As a result I now read much more than I did pre-kids (and buy very few books for myself now, mostly I buy them as gifts or if there's something I liked so much I feel the need for my own copy).
Can confirm.
Deleting apps and taking up reading has resulted in me reading 125 books a year, learning a ton, and led me to blogging here.
Don’t just take my word for it. All studies show we are happier completely off social media. And that reading builds empathy and understanding: Wisdom ❤️