A look at how easy and painful it can be to let books go. Easy because at the time I lost my ability to read, bookstores had shuttered. Painful because reading can quiet the mind and still the nervous system as only petting an animal can.
Your words reminded me of a time during the 1970s when I lost my ability to hold any thoughts or words spoken to me in my mind for more than a second or two. I had been diagnosed with several serious mental health issues and there came a time when I was trying so hard to get better by managing my thoughts that they all began to break apart at the seams. I recovered from all of it (yes we can, right Sarah!?). I have read my books on a Kindle because, after breaking my neck 25 years ago, holding books was hard for me, I now find I am so distracted by having all those book covers on one page and scrolling through to read, that I am jumping from book to book in one sitting. Read one for ten minutes? Time to move on to something else! I don't like this feeling and am going to go back to actual books I can hold in my hand and read one at a time. I've learned enough about posture to be able to pull it off. Thanks for the list of Substacks for readers!
An Easter Egg, you say? Do I sense a book club or something similar in the works...? Lovely post and thank you for sharing my stack and the Book Group Directory. A big part of what I try to do at Footnotes and Tangents is encourage a broader sense of what it means to be a reader: eliminating the shame attached to not reading or not reading in "the correct" way, and letting everyone find their way, their pace. Reading is such a personal experience but it can also be a way of bringing people together.
SarahFay. Wow, did you hit a home run with this one. I related to so much of it. But first, the sentence that made me laugh out loud, "For those under thirty and perhaps unfamiliar, the stacks are those aisles of shelves, where, once upon a time, sat actual books made of actual paper in places called libraries." Other moments in this essay made me cry. I remember what it was like to lose my ability to comprehend the written word during major depression. I remember being in the hospital and grabbing some overly long, trashy book and getting into bed with it. The only thing I was fully aware of was reading the words, but having no idea what I was reading. I was ticking off the words, as a way to move time forward. I hadn't thought of that since. I also appreciated this: "And then there was my mental illness. (My mental illness, like it was something I owned.)" My therapist urges me not to refer to the eating disorder or history of depression with the word "my." She doesn't want me to identify with these diagnoses. I love being reminded of that. Thank you for this beautifully written, intimate piece.
This: "The only thing I was fully aware of was reading the words, but having no idea what I was reading. I was ticking off the words, as a way to move time forward." So beautifully said, Nan. We are in this (whatever this is) together.
Wow, Sarah! This moved me in ways I am unable to articulate intelligently due to the litany of personal connections that physically struck me as I read your words. Thank you for sharing your hard-earned wisdom. So much respect and admiration from me to you.
Thank you for this, Sarah. I feel I could have written much of what you describe. I used to be a voracious reader and absorbed several fiction books a week. I don’t know what happened or when exactly, but even though I’ve come back to being reader a kind, I still struggle with fiction. I used to say it was because there are so many beautiful real stories in the world, but I don’t think that’s it entirely.
Almost everything I read these days is non-fiction, but I still avoid long form stuff. Like you, I’ve attributed my lack of focus to a surfeit of Netflix and social media. Words swim in front of my eyes and, unless it’s something truly absorbing, my brain cannot stay in one place for long enough. It heads off on a tangent even while I’m scanning words that don’t make it into my brain. I rely heavily on audio books which I can “read” while engaged in something physical. But I feel a great sense of shame in admitting this. As though listening to a book is a piss-poor imitation of what a real reader (and a writer) would do.
Discovering so many good writers of short non fiction on Substack is bringing me slowly back into the reading habit. And the audio versions really help. Which is why I’m trying to get over my own anxieties and—on your advice—record my new posts for other people who struggle with reading for any reason.
Thank you for your honesty in this. It’s like admitting to some shameful secret—especially when you hear those same old “writers read” tropes repeated everywhere. Having you say this out loud gives me permission to admit it myself.
Exactly! "Words swim in front of my eyes and, unless it’s something truly absorbing, my brain cannot stay in one place for long enough. It heads off on a tangent even while I’m scanning words that don’t make it into my brain."
Isn't it strange that we would have to feel any anxiety, let alone shame about this? We're a non-book club of 2.
Noooo. Have I ruined the surprise? Sign me up though. I’d very much be up for that.
I’ve started recording my own audio for my posts since starting the voice course and reading your encouragement somewhere on Writers at Work. It’s wildly uncomfortable but I figure if I appreciate it so much when others do it, I should probably do the same.
Yours sounds like a very brave story and journey, Sarah. I also well know the shame of not reading as much as I feel I should as a writer (making time for books along with everything else and all my caring roles atm remains a challenge, even though there is nothing I want to do more!) - and I was also sent down a rabbit hole of diagnoses earlier in life, and it took a long time to pull myself out. At one stage my whole identity was mental illness and my life became living from appointment to appointment in the hope someone would fix me, while I just got pulled further in the more desperate I got. I've read a few things about this before, but it's incredibly hard to talk about so bravo to you for speaking out. Thanks for sharing your experiences so openly, it's so good to feel less alone in these experiences!
I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough ride. Mental illness can have such a drastic effect on us and those around us (I was anorexic for many years) but losing the ability to enjoy reading is terrible. It sounds like you have discovered many unknown talents which is fabulous. Good luck, enjoy your audiobooks anx keep writing ✍️
I resonated too much with your post today. Learning to read was a grueling uphill battle for me, even though I was surrounded by formally educated people. The 1960s public school system lacked the understanding of how children learn to read. I believe graphic novels could have helped, but there was still a stigma attached to anything that looked like a comic book.
There's a pervasive ableist arrogance on social media where teachers cite research to prove handwriting's superiority over keyboarding, shaming those who prefer digital tools. This ignores the fact that some of us struggled with undiagnosed dyslexia and dysgraphia, making reading and writing significantly more challenging than for our peers. I was simply told to read more, which completely ignored underlying issues and made me out to be lazy and apathetic. Thankfully, I loved learning too much to allow school to interfere with my education, as Mark Twain once wrote. Thank you for your work.
As I read your piece, I identified with the shame that I’ve felt during periods of my life where I didn’t read as much as I thought I should as a writer. Thank you, Sarah, for naming it. I was also reminded of a piece my librarian wife posted recently about the importance in a free society of not only reading, but reading widely, much like your mother did!
I'm grateful I have your backstory from your book, PATHOLOGICAL, as I read your essay today.
When I was in grad school, I stopped reading for pleasure, as well. It seems that academia feeds its students with technical and dry assignments. Well, maybe not if you're going for an advanced degree in the arts, but still. I imagine everyone getting an advanced degree has a heavy load of reading for information, rather than for enjoyment.
I spent hours of my time during grad school in the historic Bass Mansion, which is an iconic building now owned by my Alma Mater, the University of Saint Francis in Fort Wayne, Indiana (not too far from you). At the time, in the early 2000s, digitized peer-reviewed articles were entering the post-secondary scene. So I did some research the old-fashioned way, by accessing old tomes and photocopying chapters relevant to my research, but also by searching on PubMed for recent scientific studies that would provide stronger evidence for my thesis.
I believe all this sterile information, while still interesting, burned me out from reading for fun during my free time. I didn't return to it until I had been out of grad school for at least five years.
Now I'm a prolific reader once again, and, I can say with a fair degree of confidence, a discerning one. I credit that to the meta-analyses and critical thinking skills I developed while pursuing my masters degree.
All that to say: you're not the only writer who has taken a long hiatus from reading. Yes, reading improves our skills as writers, but I think that depends on what we are reading, and how. If all you have is "garbage in," then how is it possible to grow as a writer? So, I read often through the lens of an editor, albeit unintentionally.
I often tell myself, "Hmm, I wonder about that. I'm going to investigate that idea more on my own." I take copious notes on what I find to be profound, wise, and true. But I weigh the matter of "truth" both subjectively and objectively, meaning according to logic and reason but also life experience.
Sorry this was so long. Thanks for taking the time to read it, Sarah. Looking forward to what next year will bring for your personal Substack.
As a lifelong voracious reader, this hits. My reading has changed with all that’s available in shorter forms on various platforms. But books are my passion. (I have a collection of 3000!)
Thank you so much for this, Sarah! I went through a time when reading was an act of such importance to me that it literally saved my life. I was reading five books a week, a high school dropout, living with a mother who ran her hands across my bookshelves, pulling out the ones that gave off “demonic” vibrations and burning them. I moved out at 19, not a moment too soon. And read in peace. You could put that on my gravestone: R.I.P. Except, as we all know, reading is not a peaceful activity. It is the way life grabs you and says Wake up! It is life itself.
So when I read this, I wept for the times I was separated from life, because I could not read. Couldn’t. I read this, and felt it in my bones. Thank you for telling us your story. I’m so glad to know that I’m not the only one.
You must write about the books that gave off "demonic" vibrations. I hope to get where you are now and see reading as something that saves instead of takes time.
Sarah, it was Byron. Faulkner. Melville. And (not such a literary loss, but still a violation) Jonathan Livingston Seagull. My brother had given me a copy for Christmas. I have no words to describe how that felt.
Your words reminded me of a time during the 1970s when I lost my ability to hold any thoughts or words spoken to me in my mind for more than a second or two. I had been diagnosed with several serious mental health issues and there came a time when I was trying so hard to get better by managing my thoughts that they all began to break apart at the seams. I recovered from all of it (yes we can, right Sarah!?). I have read my books on a Kindle because, after breaking my neck 25 years ago, holding books was hard for me, I now find I am so distracted by having all those book covers on one page and scrolling through to read, that I am jumping from book to book in one sitting. Read one for ten minutes? Time to move on to something else! I don't like this feeling and am going to go back to actual books I can hold in my hand and read one at a time. I've learned enough about posture to be able to pull it off. Thanks for the list of Substacks for readers!
Linda, yes, we can get better! And maybe it is a matter of adjusting (pun intended) and readjusting until we find our way in the world and in reading.
An Easter Egg, you say? Do I sense a book club or something similar in the works...? Lovely post and thank you for sharing my stack and the Book Group Directory. A big part of what I try to do at Footnotes and Tangents is encourage a broader sense of what it means to be a reader: eliminating the shame attached to not reading or not reading in "the correct" way, and letting everyone find their way, their pace. Reading is such a personal experience but it can also be a way of bringing people together.
Simon, I love this: "Reading is such a personal experience but it can also be a way of bringing people together." Perfect.
SarahFay. Wow, did you hit a home run with this one. I related to so much of it. But first, the sentence that made me laugh out loud, "For those under thirty and perhaps unfamiliar, the stacks are those aisles of shelves, where, once upon a time, sat actual books made of actual paper in places called libraries." Other moments in this essay made me cry. I remember what it was like to lose my ability to comprehend the written word during major depression. I remember being in the hospital and grabbing some overly long, trashy book and getting into bed with it. The only thing I was fully aware of was reading the words, but having no idea what I was reading. I was ticking off the words, as a way to move time forward. I hadn't thought of that since. I also appreciated this: "And then there was my mental illness. (My mental illness, like it was something I owned.)" My therapist urges me not to refer to the eating disorder or history of depression with the word "my." She doesn't want me to identify with these diagnoses. I love being reminded of that. Thank you for this beautifully written, intimate piece.
This: "The only thing I was fully aware of was reading the words, but having no idea what I was reading. I was ticking off the words, as a way to move time forward." So beautifully said, Nan. We are in this (whatever this is) together.
We sure are. Lots of love to you, Sarah. You make a big difference in my life.
Wow, Sarah! This moved me in ways I am unable to articulate intelligently due to the litany of personal connections that physically struck me as I read your words. Thank you for sharing your hard-earned wisdom. So much respect and admiration from me to you.
Nicole, oh, thank you. I feel so honored. Truly.
Thank you for this, Sarah. I feel I could have written much of what you describe. I used to be a voracious reader and absorbed several fiction books a week. I don’t know what happened or when exactly, but even though I’ve come back to being reader a kind, I still struggle with fiction. I used to say it was because there are so many beautiful real stories in the world, but I don’t think that’s it entirely.
Almost everything I read these days is non-fiction, but I still avoid long form stuff. Like you, I’ve attributed my lack of focus to a surfeit of Netflix and social media. Words swim in front of my eyes and, unless it’s something truly absorbing, my brain cannot stay in one place for long enough. It heads off on a tangent even while I’m scanning words that don’t make it into my brain. I rely heavily on audio books which I can “read” while engaged in something physical. But I feel a great sense of shame in admitting this. As though listening to a book is a piss-poor imitation of what a real reader (and a writer) would do.
Discovering so many good writers of short non fiction on Substack is bringing me slowly back into the reading habit. And the audio versions really help. Which is why I’m trying to get over my own anxieties and—on your advice—record my new posts for other people who struggle with reading for any reason.
Thank you for your honesty in this. It’s like admitting to some shameful secret—especially when you hear those same old “writers read” tropes repeated everywhere. Having you say this out loud gives me permission to admit it myself.
Exactly! "Words swim in front of my eyes and, unless it’s something truly absorbing, my brain cannot stay in one place for long enough. It heads off on a tangent even while I’m scanning words that don’t make it into my brain."
Isn't it strange that we would have to feel any anxiety, let alone shame about this? We're a non-book club of 2.
Exactly
Maybe we could form an audio book club? Reading the comments here, I think we’d have more than just us two as members.
You're psychic. I said this post was an Easter egg...
Noooo. Have I ruined the surprise? Sign me up though. I’d very much be up for that.
I’ve started recording my own audio for my posts since starting the voice course and reading your encouragement somewhere on Writers at Work. It’s wildly uncomfortable but I figure if I appreciate it so much when others do it, I should probably do the same.
Yours sounds like a very brave story and journey, Sarah. I also well know the shame of not reading as much as I feel I should as a writer (making time for books along with everything else and all my caring roles atm remains a challenge, even though there is nothing I want to do more!) - and I was also sent down a rabbit hole of diagnoses earlier in life, and it took a long time to pull myself out. At one stage my whole identity was mental illness and my life became living from appointment to appointment in the hope someone would fix me, while I just got pulled further in the more desperate I got. I've read a few things about this before, but it's incredibly hard to talk about so bravo to you for speaking out. Thanks for sharing your experiences so openly, it's so good to feel less alone in these experiences!
Through the poignancy of this, there is a great beauty in the way that it is written. Thank you Sarah.
I have so much to say, but "thank you" will do the heavy lifting.
I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough ride. Mental illness can have such a drastic effect on us and those around us (I was anorexic for many years) but losing the ability to enjoy reading is terrible. It sounds like you have discovered many unknown talents which is fabulous. Good luck, enjoy your audiobooks anx keep writing ✍️
Thank you, Sue~
I resonated too much with your post today. Learning to read was a grueling uphill battle for me, even though I was surrounded by formally educated people. The 1960s public school system lacked the understanding of how children learn to read. I believe graphic novels could have helped, but there was still a stigma attached to anything that looked like a comic book.
There's a pervasive ableist arrogance on social media where teachers cite research to prove handwriting's superiority over keyboarding, shaming those who prefer digital tools. This ignores the fact that some of us struggled with undiagnosed dyslexia and dysgraphia, making reading and writing significantly more challenging than for our peers. I was simply told to read more, which completely ignored underlying issues and made me out to be lazy and apathetic. Thankfully, I loved learning too much to allow school to interfere with my education, as Mark Twain once wrote. Thank you for your work.
100 percent this j,e, same
Thank you so much
As I read your piece, I identified with the shame that I’ve felt during periods of my life where I didn’t read as much as I thought I should as a writer. Thank you, Sarah, for naming it. I was also reminded of a piece my librarian wife posted recently about the importance in a free society of not only reading, but reading widely, much like your mother did!
https://wendydegroat.substack.com/p/free-societies-read-freely
Sarah,
I'm grateful I have your backstory from your book, PATHOLOGICAL, as I read your essay today.
When I was in grad school, I stopped reading for pleasure, as well. It seems that academia feeds its students with technical and dry assignments. Well, maybe not if you're going for an advanced degree in the arts, but still. I imagine everyone getting an advanced degree has a heavy load of reading for information, rather than for enjoyment.
I spent hours of my time during grad school in the historic Bass Mansion, which is an iconic building now owned by my Alma Mater, the University of Saint Francis in Fort Wayne, Indiana (not too far from you). At the time, in the early 2000s, digitized peer-reviewed articles were entering the post-secondary scene. So I did some research the old-fashioned way, by accessing old tomes and photocopying chapters relevant to my research, but also by searching on PubMed for recent scientific studies that would provide stronger evidence for my thesis.
I believe all this sterile information, while still interesting, burned me out from reading for fun during my free time. I didn't return to it until I had been out of grad school for at least five years.
Now I'm a prolific reader once again, and, I can say with a fair degree of confidence, a discerning one. I credit that to the meta-analyses and critical thinking skills I developed while pursuing my masters degree.
All that to say: you're not the only writer who has taken a long hiatus from reading. Yes, reading improves our skills as writers, but I think that depends on what we are reading, and how. If all you have is "garbage in," then how is it possible to grow as a writer? So, I read often through the lens of an editor, albeit unintentionally.
I often tell myself, "Hmm, I wonder about that. I'm going to investigate that idea more on my own." I take copious notes on what I find to be profound, wise, and true. But I weigh the matter of "truth" both subjectively and objectively, meaning according to logic and reason but also life experience.
Sorry this was so long. Thanks for taking the time to read it, Sarah. Looking forward to what next year will bring for your personal Substack.
This wasn't long; it was too good to be long! Yes, sterile information. And I love that I may just be coming out of a long hiatus from reading.
What an extraordinarily brave and insightful post Sarah, thank you. Much to think on
Mark! Thank you! (Can't wait for our interview/conversation.)
As a lifelong voracious reader, this hits. My reading has changed with all that’s available in shorter forms on various platforms. But books are my passion. (I have a collection of 3000!)
3000!
Haaaaa obsessed since age 6.
Thank you so much for this, Sarah! I went through a time when reading was an act of such importance to me that it literally saved my life. I was reading five books a week, a high school dropout, living with a mother who ran her hands across my bookshelves, pulling out the ones that gave off “demonic” vibrations and burning them. I moved out at 19, not a moment too soon. And read in peace. You could put that on my gravestone: R.I.P. Except, as we all know, reading is not a peaceful activity. It is the way life grabs you and says Wake up! It is life itself.
So when I read this, I wept for the times I was separated from life, because I could not read. Couldn’t. I read this, and felt it in my bones. Thank you for telling us your story. I’m so glad to know that I’m not the only one.
So much to say. Books were banned in our home
I left to go to college and …. I still struggle
I know we can get better
Thx Mary your words are powerfully received
Prajna. Banned. I’m so sorry.😢 But
we made it through.
It is still a struggle. There are those times when reading hurts, because it brings out that pain that lives in our body. Much love to you. xoxo
You must write about the books that gave off "demonic" vibrations. I hope to get where you are now and see reading as something that saves instead of takes time.
Sarah, it was Byron. Faulkner. Melville. And (not such a literary loss, but still a violation) Jonathan Livingston Seagull. My brother had given me a copy for Christmas. I have no words to describe how that felt.
My grandma would leave the newspaper on her porch with a sucker. She knew I would come for it.
Later my mom got hold of readers digest and cosmopolitan magazine
My dad was seriously injured by the war. It turned him into a beast
A long story
I am one of 9 that got out.
Thx for this sisterhood
🌹
Thank god for grandmothers. My dad was my rescuer. I am so glad you made it out.🙏🫶
Incredibly direct, honest and touching essay. I appreciate your willingness to be vulnerable.
Thank you!
Agree Jodi