why i'm quitting books
on coleridge, emerson, and maturing as a reader
I’ve been in a reading rut lately.
It’s been incredibly difficult for me to sit still and read for more than ten minutes. I often find myself glossing over the pages, feeling no emotional or intellectual investment in my books.
Reading honestly feels like a chore right now.
I know I'm in this rut because my hectic schedule has gotten the best of me, forcing me off my reading routine. Moments of quiet and contemplation have been hard to come by as I've been stressed with moving, setting up a new apartment, and traveling. My full-time job has also been extra demanding lately.
Thankfully, life has begun to ease up a bit.
My big project at work will be submitted by the end of this week, and I'm back home in LA, the land of good weather and food. Our grapefruit tree is overflowing with fruit and it's finally starting to feel a bit like summer.
My reading rut has reminded me of the summer reading program my parents would sign my sister and me up for as kids. At the end of each week, if we hit the required reading minutes, we would earn a raffle ticket. We could then drop these tickets into jars representing a shot at winning various prize items.
I would always diversify my tickets across a selection of cool new toys, hoping to have a chance to win them all. Meanwhile, my sister opted to put all her tickets into the Disneyland ticket lottery.
Neither of us ever won anything.
I’ve read a lot these past two years.
I finish 2-4 books a month and often read several at the same time. My literary consumption style can best be described as ravenous; I’ve been hungry to find comfort in words, appear more educated, and receive any sort of guidance to stabilize my lost soul.
A few weeks ago, I came across a quote by poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge about the four categories of readers:
The Hourglass: Information flows through them without retention.
The Sponge: Absorbs everything but does not process it deeply, returning it slightly altered.
The Jelly Bag: Filters out valuable information, keeping only the trivial parts.
The Golconda: Runs everything through a filter, discarding the worthless, retaining only the most valuable insights.
Clearly, Coleridge thinks highly of the Golconda.
But as a young adult, I’ve mostly been an hourglass or sponge. I’m not ashamed to admit it. By churning through books and trusting my soul to hold onto whatever feels right, I’ve developed immensely as a person.
Besides, when you don’t have much life experience to ground yourself on, it’s hard to be a critical reader.
I’m reminded of this quote by American essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson:
“I cannot remember the books I've read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.”
As much as I have valued being a sponge, I would like to mature into a Golconda-esque reader.
This drive—coupled with the reading rut I’ve been in—has convinced me to try something a bit counterintuitive: I’m not going to read any new books until September.
I will, however, allow myself to re-read books. Let me explain my reasoning.
The Little Prince. When Breath Becomes Air. The Song of Achilles. Greenlights. The History of Love.
I think about these books almost every day. They’ve taught me lessons on creativity, purpose, pride, fragility, resilience, and love. I genuinely cannot imagine the person I would be if I hadn’t consumed them.
They’ve had such a profound impact on my existence. And yet, I’ve only read them once or twice.
For these next three months, I will re-read my books with two primary goals: becoming a better storyteller and gaining deeper insight into my values. What is it about this book’s style and tone that I enjoy? Why do I resonate with certain characters so much? How come I feel inspired by one chapter but not the other?
I’m afraid that if I continue as a sponge reader, I risk becoming what Emerson warned against: “drugged with books for want of wisdom.” I am in danger of losing my own views if I keep this up for too long. Emerson famously rejected relinquishing individual thought to books. He was straight up paranoid about what he read. You know how there’s that popular saying that you are a reflection of your five closest friends? Emerson probably thought the same about your five favorite books.
As I’ve written more, I’ve also begun to question the authority of writers. I now understand what Emerson meant when he said:
“Meek young men grow up in libraries believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, Locke, and Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote those books.”
Ultimately, I think I’m trying to detox my approach to reading.
I want to freely read new books and re-read old ones without feeling pressured to follow trends or consume what everyone else is consuming. I want to break free from the notion that my next book has to be something society deems valuable or essential.
I’m optimistic that this experiment will make me a better writer, a more discerning reader, and a more self-aware individual.
And if in three months I realize this experiment sucked and that I’m destined to be a sponge-reader for life?
Well, at least I get to spend my summer re-reading my favorite books.
When breath becomes air is such a breathtaking book haha, totally resonate with ur description of it
Reading slumps are real! I like the idea of rereading books with an eye towards inspiration. Maybe a bit odd to recommend a book on a post about not reading new books, but you might find some value in Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose.