by Penny Hilton
College killed my desire to read. Every day I would have more pages to read than hours in the day; it felt like the professors reveled in our misery. The books and articles stacked up, and my stress got higher and higher. Eventually I stopped reading for every class; if I did, it was just to scrape by. I still made good grades, but I had lost all desire to read. Me, the only librarian who couldn’t read through a single book. After years of unending tension between my passion for literature and the soul-crushing weight of academic obligation, I graduated. It was finally over, and my first goal was to recover reading for pleasure.
I needed to reclaim what was a staple of my childhood, escaping into a good book and finding yourself along the way. Reading had been an integral part of my life since birth. As the young child of an avid reader there was a chair beside my bed instead of a table so that my parents could read to me every night from a comfortable position. I was able to read and comprehend books like Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire yet unable to spell my own name correctly inside the front cover. I spent most of my summers in high school reading and rereading my favorites. I developed a grand plan to love reading again and logically started with the first books I learned how to read–Harry Potter. Did it work? Not at all. Turns out when you become an adult, connecting with a book from your childhood is more about nostalgia and less about reading. I didn’t make it past the second book in the series.
I thought maybe I needed to go to an even easier reading level than juvenile fiction, so I read some adorable picture books that reminded me of what it felt like to read as a child, but I couldn’t just read easy books forever. I needed something engaging with which I could connect. My next step was graphic novels because they featured gorgeous artwork in addition to shorter stories. I picked up a few and made it through less than I checked out. I found myself spending more time looking at the art than reading the words. With this newest bust I was beginning to feel discouraged.
That’s when I found The Shambling Guide to New York City by Mur Lafferty, a silly urban fantasy novel I never would have picked out before. The story follows a travel writer who finds herself thrust into the underground world of supernatural beings that coexist alongside humans. The prose was simple, and the story was easy to follow. I found all of its ridiculous plot points endearing and the protagonist relatable. I was hooked. I had found a novel I wanted to finish. After I did a victory dance around my apartment, I set out to carry this book with me everywhere I went just in case the desire to read hit me. And it did. I started reading this book on my lunch breaks, in waiting rooms, even while grocery shopping (a good reason to hit the in-store Starbucks). It started out sporadic, every couple of weeks or days, but eventually I developed a reading routine. It still takes me a few months to read an average sized novel, but I spend more time having quality reading experiences.
Once I finished The Shambling Guide I didn’t want to lose the momentum I had gained. To prevent this I took what I loved about The Shambling Guide and looked for that in other books–comical plots written with simple, direct diction. I created a Goodreads account (which I recommend to everyone looking for reading inspiration) and discovered a whole genre of irreverently comedic sci-fi and fantasy novels that have filled my reading list. Not only did I rediscover my love of reading, but I discovered a new reader within me. My advice to those of you like me who have developed reader’s block is to take the time to try things you never would have before. A new perspective may be all it takes to push past the block and get back to loving what you’re reading.