Why I love reading
By Tom Browne
Earlier this year I attended the Hay Festival of Literature with my girlfriend Louisa. Aside from camping during the most apocalyptic thunderstorm I can remember, it was a highly enjoyable long weekend (neatly timed to avoid the Jubilee festivities in London). We returned muddier, scruffier and colder, but also wiser.
Anyway, it got me thinking: why exactly do I enjoy books and reading so much? As a lifelong bookworm, this is a bit like asking why I enjoy eating and breathing. Recognising, however, that this answer is unhelpful for the unconverted, I’ve tried digging a bit deeper. Here’s what I came up with.
It’s the ultimate de-stresser
I’d always struggled to understand those who spend so much time doing meditations and yogic chants… until I realised that these were fulfilling exactly the same function that books do for me.
In other words, reading helps me deal with life’s stresses and strains. Once I sink into a book, all the worries of the day slip away. It both stimulates and soothes me. It also trains my brain to compartmentalise—if I find my mind wandering from the page, it’s a sign that I’m not properly relaxed. The more you read, however, the more you become accustomed to switching off.
This point is crucial. We all need ways to handle the hardships in life. If we allow stress to dominate us, it’s disastrous for our physical and mental health. As a coping strategy, reading is a lot more interesting than most, and a lot less destructive than some.
It helps me get to sleep
This follows on from the last point, and is probably more specific to me (although I’ve heard the same from many others). As a borderline insomniac, settling down for the night isn’t always easy—I could easily potter around until 4am, the downside being that I’d render myself totally unproductive for the next day.
That’s where reading helps. Sitting up in bed and reading for an hour or so before lights out naturally puts me into a zen state. This has become such an entrenched habit that I hardly ever get into bed and fall asleep without reading at least a few pages (even on those occasions when I’m too drunk to absorb anything). I’ve even got a selection of reading material on my bedside table, so I don’t have to select that weighty tome if my brain isn’t up to it.
Other insomniacs may have different routines that work for them, but this method has saved me from a lifetime of zombie-like exhaustion.
It makes me a better writer and speaker
The writing part you can judge for yourself, dear reader. But I’ve also noticed how often people (not just family and friends) have described me as ‘sharp’ and ‘articulate’.
To the extent this is true, I don’t think it’s anything to do with intelligence—I’ve met lots of people far smarter than me. Rather, it’s the result of compulsive reading. As I mentioned in my blog about writing clearly, reading gives you a natural fluency over time. You subconsciously absorb how words work, and how to use them to articulate thoughts.
Of course, expressing your thoughts well doesn’t necessarily make them more valid or better informed, but it’s a good first step. And an added bonus is that you appear more clever than you are (this effect is multiplied if you really are clever).
Ice cream isn’t an essential part of reading, but it does help
It has taught me a lot
Generally speaking, I’m not that great at structured learning. School life didn’t really fit me, and I was particularly ill-suited to exams (although I quite liked coursework). Reading, on the other hand, has turned me into a natural audodidact. Not only have I learned a huge amount through books, but it has given me a thirst for more and more knowledge.
If you see your whole life as an education, then books are the ultimate guide. And I don’t just mean facts and figures—reading also gives you huge insight into people and societies, how these interact, and the moral issues that arise from them. To steal Roger Ebert’s line about movies, books are machines that generate empathy.
It extends my lifespan (hopefully)
Maybe it’s the calming effect of reading that I mentioned above. Or maybe it’s the fact that curling up on a sofa with a book leaves less time for parachuting, abseiling or extreme skiing.
Either way, I was delighted that a recent Yale study found that reading books extends the average lifespan by two years. All the more time to tick off those volumes that have so far eluded me (yes, I’m looking at you, Ulysses, Infinite Jest, A Suitable Boy and À la Recherche du Temps Perdu).
This good news is only slightly tempered by the fact that there simply aren’t enough hours left in my life to read all the books I want to read. Oh well, such is the curse of the bookworm.