Picture this: You’re somewhere between 5th and 9th grade. You began reading a while ago and at this point, you’re starting to take pride in the fact that someone could label you a “bookworm” and they wouldn’t be wrong. There’s a stack of books higher than you in your room or your library card has been used so often some of the writing is starting to fade.
Every week you open another cover, to another series, to another world, and repeat. You’re gathering a collection of bookmarks, the ones with the charms on the end of the ribbons are your favorite. Or the holographic ones. Or the one your librarian gave to you for free. Either way, it doesn’t matter, you still fold the book pages when you’re in a rush.
Now, let’s take that image to present day. You’re much older—graduating high school, in college, it doesn’t really matter— and you’ve grown taller than that pile of books. The bookmarks are stuffed at the back of your nightstand and there’s dust along the spines, along the pages, inside the sleeves. You haven’t touched a book in a long, long time.
If you fit this description, then we’ve got something in common.
You’re the bookworm who can no longer read a book.
And I don’t mean just read. I mean you can’t listen to an audiobook, you can’t confidently purchase a book with being sure you’ll read it, you can’t even read a few pages from your tried and true favorite without shutting the cover moments later. You’ve got a problem; we’ve got a problem.
Not to worry, I think I’ve got an answer.
This past week, at the beginning of the semester, I was required to read “The Giver” by Lois Lowry for one of my courses. It’s a classic and an easy read, but I was horribly worried because over the summer I had attempted to read a book and it took me two months.
I had one week to read this book. It took me two days. There wasn’t a very large difference between “The Giver” and the other book. They were falling under the YA label, they were both interesting, but I finished “The Giver” so quickly that it forced me to figure out why I had been able to do so.
And it wasn’t because of an academic deadline, believe me. I still have not mastered the art of time management.
I thought and thought, and then it finally hit me. “The Giver” was a book I had read in middle school in reading class; that class where you read a bunch of books, a lot of which you actually enjoyed, but never touched again. That was the first time I had read “The Giver” and now that I had to read it again, it seemed to ignite a sort of excitement in my bones.
Everything that I could remember from reading it the first time—the emotion, the suspense, and so on—happened again, in this weird, limbo-ish mental state because much of my knowledge on the book still remained. So it wasn’t like I was reading a book, it was, as many people often describe it, like visiting an old friend. And that’s when I realized my passion for reading was returning after so long.
It had never really left, as I think most bookworms can attest to, but it was just locked away, thrown under busy schedules and academic readings and on and on and on. But the simple act of reading a reading class book seemed to revive. That’s your answer, that’s how you get your bookishness back, that’s what I want you to do. Go read an old book from reading class.
I know, that’s weird. It should be, go read your favorite book, go read the series that you’ve never stopped loving, but no, don’t do that. Even I have several books that I would personally put above “The Giver” to comfort me, but I haven’t read them for a year because I couldn’t get myself to. Now I think I can, but only due to reading something so classic and simple; like a school assignment that’s not really a school assignment.
So go pick up a copy—whether it be from your bookstore, your library, your bookshelf—of “The Giver,” “And Then There Were None,” “The Pigman,” “The Outsiders,” “Lord of the Flies,” “To Kill A Mockingbird,” “The Great Gatsby,” “Animal Farm,” etc., and read it. Any book that you can remember, that you enjoyed, that you read for class. Read it and see if it re-ignites your bookishness, helps you regain your bookworm status, and reminds you why you loved reading in the first place.
Oh, and I’m not going to go on shouting out random names on the internet, but send a silent thank you to my professor, who is the one who assigned the book; I wouldn’t have figured this out without her.
Happy reading, bookworms. I hope it works for you like it did for me.