Like any hobby, reading takes up space in my life. I talk about books I’ve enjoyed with friends and we swap copies once we’re done. I catalogue my reading list on this website and summarize my favorites each year. I also attract compliments from non-readers. “I wish I could read like you,” they’ll say, or “I should read more.”
As any honest bookworm will tell you, there’s nothing inherently impressive about it. There is no fountain of knowledge I can point to as a result of my reading, no unique talent or skill I’ve acquired from books. Much of what I read is popular entertainment, the literary equivalent of a Marvel movie. The rest is better absorbed via podcast interviews or blog posts.
Despite this, reading is considered a noble pursuit, a worthy replacement for all the crap ways people spend their time: watching TV, playing on their phones, sleeping late. Like exercise and healthy eating, more reading is better – or so the thinking goes.
The implication is that there are good and bad ways to spend our time. That we are better off spending an hour with a book than an hour with a TV show. And for some things – improving focus, expanding vocabulary and increasing drowsiness – reading probably is a better choice than watching TV.
But when we elevate some activities above others, we gloss over any nuance and imply that good and bad is the same for everyone. Salads = good. Sandwiches = bad. Socializing = good. Being alone = bad. And then we tell ourselves we should do more of the “good” stuff without ever asking what we’re looking to get out of it.
Rather than optimize for a set of activities – more running, more salads, less TV, less Instagram – the one thing we should be doing is optimizing for a set of feelings – more joy, more tranquility, less anxiety, less distraction, etc. If those activities fit the bill, great. But if they don’t – and they clearly won’t for everyone – than we can find our own.
Whenever someone compliments my reading, I think of Tom Clancy’s The Hunt for Red October. I think of my sweaty, eight-year-old fingers smudging the cheap ink on each page. I think of working my way through the book while standing in line at the airport. I think about all the other authors who’ve put me under a similar spell. And I wonder: If you don’t feel the way I do about books, why do you feel you should read more of them?
What I get from reading is simple: entertainment, relaxation, drowsiness and a little knowledge. But if I hadn’t grown up in a family that encouraged the activity – if I hadn’t grown up fighting my sister for who “owned” our shared copies of Harry Potter and the Alex Rider series – I doubt reading would be where I’d go to find all of those things. TV shows are highly entertaining. Meditation and long walks are relaxing. Crosswords make me drowsy and the internet is an unlimited fountain of knowledge. You see where I’m going with this.
That’s not to say I don’t have my own pile of shoulds weighing on me. I do. I should lift weights. I should go out more with friends. I should visit family more often. I see examples of people doing all the things I should be doing effectively and I think: “I wish I could do _______ like them.”
So I try. I give the bench press and deadlifts a go at the gym. I spend late nights out with friends. I make last-minute trips down to Baltimore for the weekend.
But it doesn’t stick. I don’t enjoy weightlifting – it makes me feel silly and weak. Late nights make me anxious and tired the next day, no matter how late I try to sleep in. And being away all weekend, while fun, breaks me from my routine and affects me the following week.
Instead of what works for others, I can do what works for me. I can run and work in some bodyweight exercises to make sure my muscles don’t atrophy. I can meet friends for dinner and other activities earlier in the day. And I can plan out prolonged trips home to Baltimore, or family vacations throughout the year, that equate to similar, if not more, quality time.
I can optimize the basket my way.
The question then becomes: How do we figure out what we’re optimizing for? One answer is to use a system popularized by Jim Collins, the author of Good to Great. He rates each day on a scale from -2 (bad) to +2 (great). Then he notes down what he did that day. It’s simple and effective, something you could track in a journal or spreadsheet and then reflect on at a later date.
I used this system for much of 2021, and it’s not hard to see a pattern: My great days involve interactions with people (friends, coworkers, etc.), walks with Anne, exercise of some sort and quiet time to read or write. With a bit more scrutiny, it’s obvious that I get a lot from playing a mentor/teacher role – the days when I had development or recruiting calls at work, or led my English group, were great ones. Same goes for days when I went on runs with other people, or hosted dinners with friends.
With this knowledge, it becomes easier for me to dismiss my shoulds. I know what works for me, and I can stick to it. I can optimize based on what energizes me each morning and makes me thankful each night. In my career, that means prioritizing relationships and coaching opportunities over salary and prestige. At home, that means prioritizing quality time with Anne and friends over big social events.
But it’s never easy. Every couple of weeks, the shoulds hit me like a ton of bricks, and it takes effort to step back and remind myself that other people’s lives can’t dictate my own. Should I really read less? If I’m enjoying my book and seeing the positive impacts of reading it, the answer is probably no. Should I really be eating healthier? If I’m feeling fine after each meal, the answer is also probably no. Just because there is pressure to do something, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. Eventually, the moment will pass, and I’ll get back to doing things my way.
If we’re unsure what works for us, we owe it to ourselves to find out. If we know we wake up anxious each morning, we owe it to ourselves to start working out why. There’s no proscribed solution we should follow, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a page from the people we know, and see if what works for them works for us. If it doesn’t, move on to the next thing.
– Emmett
What I’m Reading:
The Lincoln Highway – Amor Towles
What I’m Listening To:
Jim Collins: A Rare Interview With a Reclusive Polymath – Tim Ferriss Show
Sebastian Junger: Freedom, PTSD, war, and life through an evolutionary lens – Peter Atia Drive Podcast