Currently Reading: books I don’t have to read (for fun)

Over the last few years, I’ve considered myself a common case of someone who ‘read a lot as a child but dropped the hobby in adulthood’. I’m certainly not a non-reader. Please don’t think of me as illiterate; that’s not what I’m saying. I’m always reading something, out of necessity or curiosity, but I haven’t thought of it as a consistent source of leisure in many years. Outside of necessity, I’ll read a handful of books in a year – usually ones that are safely similar to texts I’ve enjoyed in the past, or books suggested by friends with great taste – but it hasn’t been a hobby to me. It’s been something to do while I sit on the train or lie on the sand, which are not things I do daily, or even weekly. I”ve never hated reading, I’m just saying, it hasn’t been #1 on my list of favourite pastimes for quite a while.

Anyway, I think there are a few reasons I stopped reading for fun – so here’s a non-exhaustive list that I hope you can relate to!

1. I’m over-employed and overstimulated! When you read so much out of necessity, it can start to feel like work.
2. The pandemic messed up our brains, and some of us are still learning to embrace boredom instead of acting like our minutes are a limited resource before disaster strikes. It’s hard to do anything purely for fun in this productivity-first mess we live in.
3. To some extent, high school and university tell you what to read, and give you a reason to read. When you’ve graduated, you have to decide what you want to read, and what for. That can be a lot of pressure if you’ve read your classics and aged out of vampire romances. As someone who rarely enjoys fiction or self-help genres, it’s hard to hone in on what I might enjoy reading, because I’m basically left with a bunch of research books. Which brings us back to item 1.

In any case, ‘not being much of a reader’ is a really boring story to tell about yourself as an adult, so I’ve picked more books up this year, and read bits every day, with no pressure to enjoy it. But I do enjoy it, and I’ve remembered how relaxing it can be to read for no real reason, with no deadline, and no pressure. What’s really helped is having a handful of books to read at a time, instead of forcing myself to trudge through one text until I’m finished, before starting another. I just pick up whichever book sounds good to me on the day – and this new strategy has been very successful for me, I think. So this is a list of books I’m currently cycling through. If you’re a 20-something trying to reconnect with a reading hobby, this might help! And good luck!

Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language, by Amanda Montell

I’d heard bits of this book quoted for years on some of my favourite podcasts, but never remembered it enough to read it. Then on one day this year, I was working at a women’s centre, compiling a reading list for their socials. I asked all of my coworkers for their recommendations on books that women could read to educate themselves on gendered violence, and Wordslut came up. As fate would have it, I ended up in a bookstore later that week, and there it was, waiting for me on the eye-level shelf.

I instantly loved this book. Having been a big fan of A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket as a kid, it grabbed at some of my biggest interests. It talks about how words develop and change in meaning. Looking at the construction of gender in the Western world, it explores how words are used and who they are used by. It’s history, linguistics, gender, and it has footnotes! I love those!

Better Things Are Possible: How rebellious hope will change the world, by Jack Toohey

Before I bought this book, I thought, oh – I fully don’t remember the last time I read a book written by a man. Probably in high school or slightly afterward, when I was on a mission to read all the ‘classics’ on a particular list. Regardless, I bought this book because I’d recently read both of Hannah Ferguson’s books, kindly lent to me by my housemate, whose taste in pop-culture I trust. A friend of Hannah Furgeson had brought this book up on a podcast, and I thought, well, if she likes this man’s book, then it must be pretty good. Plus, Bite Back had given me an itch for reading contemporary commentary on Australian politics and media. I’d bought Wordslut the week before, so I guess I was in the inertia of book-buying dopamine.

This book covers a range of topics relevant to a young Australian, starting with a surprisingly entertaining explanation of the housing crisis. Jack talks about gender, mental health, the climate crisis, media and politics in a broad and detailed view of the systems failing young Australians today. With insightful interviews, well-chosen facts, digestible commentary, humour and, most importantly, optimism – this is a great read for young news avoiders. It feels good to know a bit more about the position this country has put us in, without feeling confused, bored or hopeless. I’ve enjoyed sharing somewhat scary figures with my peers, and knowing that there are proven ways of recovering from where we’re at. Highly recommend.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, by Suzanne Collins

Earlier this year, my partner and I absolutely ripped through the newest Hunger Games book – Sunrise on the Reaping. We took turns reading to each other, stopping for commentary, and a few tears. It was awesome – I can’t remember the last time I felt so eager to read fiction. When we finished the book, we wished we could read it again for the first time, and longed for more. So we decided to read the previously released book from the anthology, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. When the movie came out a few years ago, we saw it, but we weren’t intrigued enough to read the book. 

So, we’ve been slowly reading through it – nothing like Sunrise on the Reaping, but it’s still a good read. Plus, shared reading time is often an experience we abandon after high school. I’m sure many of us have been traumatised by reading sections aloud to the class. In general, I think it’s fun to foster a shared ingestion of media. If you watch TV or listen to music together, or send TikToks back and forth, why not read together? It’s fun! Try it!

A Room of One’s Own, by Virginia Woolf

I actually bought this book at Sydney airport in January 2020, with no idea how important it would become to me. I picked it up because I wouldn’t have Wi-Fi on the plane, and I had recently read Virginia Woolf’s ‘Orlando’, so it seemed likely that I’d like it.

Controversial to many English teachers – but I’m not at all against taking pen to paper when I’m reading a book – and my copy of a Room of One’s own is embellished with underlines scribbled by my 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 and now, 24-year-old self. 

Re-reading and annotating books has strangely been the most consistent way I’ve interacted with books in the last few years. For example, even if I never picked up another book, I can always count on myself to revisit The Bell Jar every August. I find it interesting to explore which parts I found gripping enough to underline in the past, and how the context of my interests have changed throughout my twenties. It’s sort of a guided journaling practice.

The re-readings of A Room of One’s Own are less consistent but more personal than The Bell Jar. The Bell Jar is a story I enjoy; A Room of One’s Own is an extended essay from 1929 that surprises me every time. I don’t notice how it has influenced me, and I forget how much I love the pace of it. It’s a treat, and it’s also a shame. It amazes me that I can still gather some sort of meaning from an essay about the role and rights of women, written almost a century ago. Change takes time, I suppose.

The book is based on two lectures Virginia Woolf gave in 1928 at women’s colleges in England. She talks about women and fiction – in a number of ways. It follows her thoughts as she tries to figure out what to say on the subject of women and fiction. In the end, Virginia says, “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” The ‘room’ is a place away from the obligations of wifehood and motherhood, and the space to think. For all the change we’ve seen in gender politics, I feel that point stands.

I enjoy the stream-of-consciousness style, where Virginia doesn’t tell you what to think; she just plays with the idea of truth and fact being different things. That’s the same theme as every one of my favourite books – the idea that the details of a story don’t need to be exactly factual to reveal some truth to the reader. While I don’t usually love fiction, I love an exploration of what fiction does and how it comes to be. On another note, it makes me rather proud that I can read – which sounds silly, maybe, but it seems odd that something so powerful is something I take for granted. So the reminder is nice.

Anyway, if you read this whole post, I hope you read something soon that makes you feel grateful that you can read. Or just something that doesn’t stress you out like your phone does. Best of luck.