kmaeve reorganizes, rethinks, and gives up on goodreads

somehow my books have ended up in the non-functional fireplace of my shared college apartment. i have 152 books in this fireplace and an overflow bookshelf. I have read 88 of them. 57.9%. that isn’t even passing.

the stack looms over me every time i walk through the living room. mocking me. begging me to read them, yet taunting me as if they know i may never open their covers. i learned that there are 152 of them today when my roommate and i spontaneously reorganized the stack. they now mock me in rainbow order.

i have decided, after catlouguing every book into an app on my phone and stamping each title page with a custom stamp, that i am sick of “tbr lists” and “books you MUST read in your 20s” and expectations and unrealistic goals.

while these lists have led me to some of my favorite books, i feel stuck. i already have miles long reading lists for my university classes and adding even more lists has exhausted me. i have not met my ever-shrinking goodreads goal since 2021.

that year i read 68 books. this year i read 36, a number my past self might have scoffed at. but, i’ve realized, that constantly measuring my reading by quantity has reduced the quality of how i read.

i’ve always been a voracious reader, lapping up words offered to me on a platter of wood pulp and ink. my quick reading has always been a source of pride for me. yes, i did finish that book in an hour. ohhh it was just 400 pages. but now, i have begun to question the value in completing a novel in one sitting.

i have always and will always defend my level of comprehension regardless of the speed i read a book. but, even though i trust my understanding, i have begun to distrust my enjoyment.

it feels like a task to pick up a book now and i think i am in a trap of my own design. by attempting to complete a list, or read a certain number of books in a year i have made reading a chore. i would go as far as finishing books i did not like to make sure i met my goal.

my goal this year is, in theory, 30 books. in practice, i don’t know what my goal is. as long as i begin to truly enjoy picking up a book again, without the expectations i have been setting for myself, i will feel accomplished.

maybe tomorrow when i walk past my fireplace i will see a pile of opportunities instead of an insurmountable chore.