TSUNDOKU

 If you asked any of my high school teachers whether I read any of their assigned books, they'd probably say 'maybe?' I somehow passed the exams, but truth be told, I read ZERO books in high school. It wasn't out of rebellion so much as out of necessity. Time was scarce at that point in my life. Alone time, like one of those unearthed pink diamonds, even rarer. 

I think a few things are needed when reading a book cover to cover. You of course need to have possession of the book. You need somewhere to read the book. You need some sort of alone time. You need some sort of quiet/quieter time. You need free mental space to absorb the material. 

Looking back on my middle school and high school years, I met the requirement for owning the book, where it lived in a locker or at the bottom of my backpack. My books were never dogeared or highlighted. They stayed crisp just like the day they were purchased. 

When I think of when I could have read books during my youth, two options come to mind: at 7am, in the passenger seat of my grandparents Dodge Caravan, or at 4pm during the 40 minute commute home on my high school's big yellow bus. Neither were ideal. I was too tired in the morning to think about reading. And I didn't want to be the person that read on a school bus full of peers. I figured I had enough social handicaps growing up. Being the kid who read on the bus felt like social suicide.   

If you've read my post about what it was like growing up for me, you might agree that reading at home was never an option. Eventually after enough years of not reading, I stopped wanting to read all together. I figured I'd made it this far, passing all my English and Literature classes, winning small awards for my short stories, and having my undergrad senior thesis chosen for departmental honors, I assumed reading was overrated. 

You'd think once I got into law school, my penchant for relying on the cliff notes version of books would stop. But it didn't. I can still picture my law books in their vacuum sealed plastic wrap sitting on my kitchen table collecting dust. AI wasn't a thing. Heck, Google was still becoming a thing. Wikipedia was hardly a reliable source, but somehow, I made it through law school without reading any of the books. I'm not proud of this. I once was impressed by how 'smart' I had to be to scam the system so to speak. But truth is, I scammed myself. Once I had the freedom to break the habit of not being well-read, I chose to continue the cycle. Although, it's fair to say that during my time in law school, reading a book wasn't at the top of my priority list.       

So what changed? I have no idea. In my 30's, something shifted. I was no longer proud of being unread. I didn't like staying silent when friends or coworkers made references about Captain Nemo or Holden Caulfield. Or when one of my customers commented on the alarming parallels of our world to Orwell's 1984, asking me if I felt similarly. I felt left out when friends all raved about the same book in front of me and asked if I had 'gotten the chance' to read it yet.   

In 2015, I started taking writing classes with well-read writers and published authors. With certainty, someone would drop the titles of books when discussing one another's work. 'Wow, your writing style reminds me of Joan Didion's," someone might say to another writer. " "I wish I had the ability to make hard things funny the way Sedaris can," another might add. Or the most anxiety ridden question addressed to the class: "What is everyone reading nowadays?" I learned to have an answer ready, usually having Googled 'popular memoirs' and 'why,' to give me some talking points. A deeper part of me longed to be someone that could contribute something meaningful to the conversations from having read something meaningful to me. 

I didn't jump into reading books right away. I'd pick up books with clever titles or interesting subject matter (based on the blurb on the back cover) or I'd buy books that others recommended as their favorites. Soon I had several books with colorful spines and funky fonts piling up. I recently learned there is a name for acquiring books but never reading them: TSUNDOKU. I didn't need a medical professional to tell me I had a strong case of Tsundoku.

Sometime towards the end of the pandemic, I made a promise to myself to read more. Instead, of scrolling on my phone for unknown amounts of time, I'd read instead. When my goal of reading one book a month became too strict, I changed my approach. I'd make a habit of reading while in a place I enjoyed like a park or nature trail or at a stopping point along a hike.

In 2023, I was introduced to Gabor Mate's books: When the Body Says No and The Myth of Normal. Once I made the effort to start reading his books, I couldn't put them down. I couldn't believe how many hours went by where I was engrossed in the material. After getting through his books, I thought well, the subject matter of psychiatry, mental health, and trauma are all topics I can't get enough of, so I need to find more books with topics like that.

This year I opted into a library membership for the first time in decades. I have books on hold and books on queue. But it's no longer Tsundoku. I'm blowing through books week by week. Something big shifted for me. We are 3 months away from 2024 and I've read close to 30 books this year alone! My writing has gotten stronger, clearer. I'm loving how much I'm taking away from well-written books and not so well-written books. I can learn something from all of them. I guess the point of this post is to say, 'It's never too late to start something new."