I Can’t Read a Book Right Now—And I Am Not Alone

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There’s a quote from John Green, the author who made you ugly cry with The Fault in Our Stars, that perfectly encapsulates what reading means to me. He wrote, “Reading forces you to be quiet in a world that no longer makes place for that.”

I have a noisy brain, one that doesn’t stop chattering no matter how nicely I ask it to stop. Meditating is my nightmare. In yoga class, I sometimes leave before Savasana just to avoid being left alone with my own thoughts. But place a book in my hands, and I can sit quietly for hours while the rest of the world falls away.

Last year I read 53 books, the year before that 52, and 48 the year before that (which is when I started counting). I use every available opportunity to squeeze in a few pages, whether it’s 20 minutes on the subway or five minutes waiting for a friend who’s late for dinner. Reading is my primary form of self-care, the thing I turn to just as much when I’m happy as when I’m sad.

There’s rarely an instance in which I do not have a book with me, and I’ve been known to whip them out at rather inappropriate times. Just last month I packed three books for a 48-hour bachelorette weekend in Vermont. Shockingly, I only finished one.

I’ve always relied on books to transport me to another world, one where my own problems don’t exist, so it’s especially heartbreaking that I haven’t found comfort in their pages now when I need it the most. For the past three weeks, while social distancing alone in my one-bedroom apartment, I haven’t been able to read. It’s as if there’s a fog cast over my brain, preventing the words from seeping in. Over and over I find myself reaching the bottom of the page only to realize I hadn’t the faintest idea what I’ve just read.

Given the weight of the world, I had tossed aside my usual literary fiction and heavy essay collections in favor of pulpy summer thrillers and comedic memoirs. But not even their fast-paced plots and deftly written jokes could hold my attention for more than a few moments. I’ve plucked book after book off the shelf only to abandon them on my night table after a feeble attempt at reading before bed instead of scrolling mindlessly through Twitter for the umpteenth time. It’s felt like losing a friend in a time when we’ve already lost so much.

At least I know I’m not alone. On Sunday morning I tweeted about my sudden inability to read, and was met with dozens of responses lamenting similar frustrations. “I feel seen” wrote one commenter. “I love reading. I need reading. But I just can’t right now,” replied another.

We’re all struggling to focus right now, and it turns out there’s a reason why. According to Christian Jarrett, PhD, a clinical psychologist based in the U.K., “Research shows that chronic stress affects the way the front of the brain works—the area…[that] normally controls our ability to concentrate and switch attention from one thing to another.” Simply put, during something as stressful as living through a global pandemic, “we lose our usual mental flexibility and become highly focused on the source of the threat,” making it difficult to lose yourself in another world.

In search of a way to get my reading back on track, I turned to my publishing colleagues for suggestions. It turns out these normally voracious readers are feeling the struggle too. But they had some advice.

Short stories for short attention spans: “All the books I’d been so excited to get my hands on back when life felt normal can’t actually hold my focus...the one thing I’ve managed to read is short stories...by the nature of the format, I don’t have to focus as long.” —Emma

Spend longer in stories you love: “When all of this first started, I was having a really hard time reading. I felt so anxious I couldn’t focus and just wanted to keep checking the news.... I switched to reading longer books, which I always find more immersive because they give you more time with characters, setting, plot, etc.—and I find myself longing to return to them.” —Taylor

Lighten it up: “Reading has always been a form of escape, but now it’s this necessary part of my day that keeps me just a little bit more sane. I can’t do much but read romance, mainly because I love knowing how it’s going to end, and sometimes having that kind of knowledge is all we need. It doesn’t hurt that romance books are filled with fictional flirting, so much banter, and swoon-worthy moments.” —Natasha

Give audiobooks a try: “Audiobooks have been a nice distraction. I can make my way through them while still being active, cooking, cleaning, working out, and doing other things to help alleviate anxiety.” —Mike

With everyone’s suggestions in mind, I settle onto the couch with a glass of wine and a delectably British Sarah Waters novel I’ve been saving for just the right occasion. Maybe I’ll read for a few minutes, or maybe I’ll be able to concentrate for a few hours this time. All I can do is pick up another book and try again.