How I Fell In Love With Reading

There’s something about the scent, look, and feel of a good ol’ book

I like to think there’s a silver lining to every bad situation we face, and in the midst of all the angst, loss, and uncertainty that hit us all during these months of lockdown, I was able to find mine. Books.

As a writer, it is with much embarrassment that I admit, as little as 4 months ago I could count the books I’d read on one hand.

Before being confined at home, I dreaded reading. Fiction and non-fiction alike, I just couldn’t get myself to read past the first 30 pages of any given book. There was no real reason as to why I didn’t like it, I just didn’t — and yes, I am aware that a writer who doesn’t read sounds a lot like an oxymoron. Luckily, things changed.

March 5th, London, 5:43pm. I was on holiday with some of my friends, enjoying a large, black coffee with a splash of almond milk and some ice, at a Starbucks near Piccadilly Circus. Between the good company, the perfect not-so-cold, end-of-winter English weather and the strong coffee, I was careless enough to leave my brand new, thousand-euro iPhone unguarded. One hour and a stolen phone later, I was back in my gloomy hotel room, calling home from my best friend’s phone to give the great news to my mother.

Horrible experience aside, it was then that my love for reading started.

With no phone to use on my way back to Milan, I decided to buy a book at the airport before boarding the plane. There was a discount on Stephen Hawking’s “Brief Answers to the Big Questions”, and while not necessarily an easy read for the non-reader I was at the time, it touched on some of the subjects I’m most passionate about, so I decided it was worth the £5.99.

To my great surprise, I read the whole thing on that two-hour return flight — and so my reading frenzy began.

I was confused.

Before then, I used to buy books fairly often, hoping I’d read them, knowing months would go by and I wouldn’t even open them. So I wondered.

What was different this time? Did growing older make me like books? Was the book that good? Was I unconsciously trying to make up for 22 book-less years? After carefully analysing the situation, I came up with an explanation.

Many people are introduced to, and approach reading, the wrong way, so they ultimately end up despising it the way I did. Of course, not everyone is supposed to love reading, and there’s nothing wrong with not being an avid reader, but rediscovering books has fueled both me and my writing in ways I would’ve never imagined. So in order to help you, fall in love with reading the way I eventually did, here’s what I learned being a late bloomer (or, should I say, reader).

Read what you like

Too obvious? Not really.

Now I realise, most books on my reading list as a child came from one of three places: Suggested books, school books, “to read before you die” books. As a kid, you don’t have much experience when it comes to books or reading, or, you know, pretty much anything. You are still figuring out who you are, what you like, what you’re passionate about, so when you decide to pick up a book, you think these are the ones you should read, these are the ones you’ll surely enjoy. Books others have loved, books from best-selling authors, books that are so-called classics.

I admit it might’ve been me who had too much of a singular taste, but my point is still valid: keep on reading books you don’t like, and you’ll eventually convince yourself it is reading you don’t like.

This happened to me, and I ended up thinking of myself as someone that simply didn’t like reading. Boy was I wrong.

It is obvious, in hindsight, I actually really enjoyed reading. The few times I got to skim through a book that felt right, I would devour the whole thing in a matter of hours. Hawking’s book, on that flight back from London, proved to be my epiphany.

So just make sure, you are reading books you actually like, books you actually enjoy, books that touch on subjects you are actually curious and passionate about — don’t settle for what everybody else is reading, and don’t be scared to create your own, unique bookshelf.

Now obviously, you can’t figure out if you like a book before you actually start reading the book, can you? This brings me to my next point.

Don’t be afraid to stop

Reading is not your job, you are (unfortunately) not getting paid to read, no one cares whether you read a chapter every ten minutes or every ten days. Remember, reading is an experience that you should enjoy. Feel like reading? Read. Don’t feel like reading? Don’t read. There are no rules, no boundaries. Read five pages if you feel like only reading five pages, read a hundred pages if you feel like reading a hundred pages.

If 25 pages deep you realise the book might not be for you, stop reading. If a chapter in you realise you’re fighting through each word, stop reading. If you are trying to find an excuse to keep on turning the pages, stop reading.

Don’t like the book? Close it, and open another one. For every book you force yourself to read, there are at least three others you could effortlessly devour in half the time.

It really doesn’t matter.

Set the mood

For a romantic dinner you light some scented candles and dim the lights; for a movie night with your friends, you get some popcorn ready and turn all the lights off; for a studying session you play your relaxing piano playlist on Spotify and get rid of anything that might be a distraction.

As simple and inconsequential as it may sound, setting the mood can turn a meh experience into a wow experience. Why should it be any different when it comes to reading?

Once everything is in order, meaning you know what you want to read and you know that you want to read it, this is the icing on the cake. Find a comfy spot, dim the lights and get a lamp pointed right at your book, play some background rain noise (or, even better, wait for a real rainy day), grab a cup of tea, put on your PJs, and off you go.

I guess most people here don’t really need convincing, when it comes to reading, but for the few who, like me, once thought they just weren’t made for it, trust me when I tell you, there’s a reader inside all of us.

I am now proud to say, that after more than 20 years on this earth, my bookshelf has finally begun to fill-up. Actually no, scratch that, I am now happy to say it.

I’m ecstatic, excited.

Because to me, writing is, next music, one of the highest forms of artistic expression our kind has ever created, and to read, is to become part of that art.