Finding My Way Back to Reading
The prodigal son returns!
At Fold Labs, work isn’t all about, well… work. It’s filled with lively conversations, shared anecdotes, meme breaks and way too much laughter. Maybe it’s because we’re a small team, maybe it’s because we’re all women, or maybe it’s just that we genuinely like each other. Who knows? Work often doesn’t feel like work. Lord knows what my “boss” will think of this statement but heck it's because of her that there is even space for us to create this space.
Anyway, before I digress completely, let me get to the point.
One of those conversations actually led me to write this article— something that’s deeply personal to me— my relationship with reading.
The Past
Just like in my previous article, I need to remind you that I’m an English language graduate. Some would say it’s an act of vanity and perhaps they won’t be completely amiss.
But in fact, reading and writing is actually a very important part of our said ‘KPI’ at Fold and we all tend to talk about these very acts quite often. Therefore it was quite revelatory when i confessed that–
I have a complicated, almost awkward relationship with reading.
You must be curious to know why I studied a subject that literally required me to read all the time for five years. But here’s what happened!
The act of reading was filled with so much meaning that soon any and all reading felt kinda…meaningless?
The Argument
As a student, whenever we were to read a book, there was a set process to it—we had to first look at the author’s background, the period the book was situated in and the socio-political landscape of the country the author belonged to or was dispersed from. We had to look at the literary analysis by looking at the theory and the criticism surrounding the book. Then we had to read the book and analyse the writing style and question the whole notion of fiction and the novel as a medium as well as the act of reading! There were too many why's and how’s that needed to be answered to form a holistic understanding of the book.
I attempted to leave no stone unturned and still it did not feel like enough.
At first, it was exciting—the curiosity, I was hungry to know more. After all we were these doe-eyed newly-turned adults enamoured by the wealth of information that could be found in each and every piece of literature.
But after five years of this relentless dissection, reading began to feel like a chore!
Mind you, I knew literature was going to be difficult, it was literally a course designed to pick at your brain. But honestly, I did not anticipate the consequences! Even now, I look at some of the people I studied with and wonder (with a tinge of envy), how they have continued to maintain a healthy relationship with reading.
The Last Straw
Soon things got a little tricky! I found myself in a weird place. I was stuck between two extremes: should I read widely or should I read deeply? If i read many, then i wouldn’t know anything deeply enough but if i read one perfectly, then i’d be missing out on so much more.
It felt like I was never doing enough, no matter what I chose.
By the end of my post-grad, my relationship with literature was more strained than ever.
I stopped enjoying books entirely.
Even the thought of pursuing a PhD made me break into a cold sweat at the prospect of all the reading and writing it would require.
For a solid two years, I barely read. I missed it, though. I missed being that person who found joy in books and tried to rekindle the relationship. I created Goodreads lists, watched BookTubers and Bookstagrammers, but nothing worked! I couldn’t get past 20 pages without feeling the need to research everything: the author, the themes, the critiques. Reading became exhausting, like an endless loop of "not knowing enough."
The Exile
Eventually, I put enough distance between myself and books. This gave me plenty of time to reflect on the situation. What my reflection revealed was:
Pressure of Under-Reading: I felt guilty if I didn't analyse every detail of the book. I was scared of being disrespectful to the author’s creation that they put so much work into. I was scared of being pulled up by a fellow reader and being judged for not knowing enough about a book I'd read.
Fear of Identification: I was hesitant to call myself an avid reader because I feared people would expect me to know certain books and I hated disappointing them.
Overwhelming Choices: While I made lists of books to read, a voice in my head kept saying, “You’ll never read them all, so what’s the point?” Those lists, which were supposed to help, ended up feeling suffocating.
Time Investment: I constantly gave myself excuses about not having enough time, probably because I’d turned reading into this monumental task that required rituals and a ‘conducive’ environment.
I also realised that a core part of my identity was tied to being "someone who reads," and without that– I felt a little lost.
The Rumination
Eventually I landed a job in a small publishing house as a PR and marketing executive. I was around books all the time and during this time I observed the editors discuss reading as another part of the job which really helped me see things differently. They were not agonising over every word—they were just checking whether the story made sense, flowed well and communicated the story effectively. It wasn’t life or death—just books doing their thing.
I was reminded me why I read as a child- to just read for the sake of it, for the curious worlds it created for me and the joy it brought to me.
I still did not have the confidence to pursue a career in literature or any other field remotely associated with reading or writing but I was definitely more positive about reading.
The Return
I gave myself permission to read like a regular person. Instead of researching every book to death and looking at it like a thesis project, I tried reading just for the sake of it. Sometimes I underline a few passages, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I underline stuff, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I abandon a book halfway through, and sometimes I juggle five books at once. And you know what? That’s okay.
There’s no “right” way to read.
I used to judge myself and others, for reading certain books or not reading enough. I used to think what others read reflected their intelligence or taste. But honestly, that was just a way for me to procrastinate and avoid picking up a book myself.
The Reconciliation
See, I haven’t found all the answers yet. I still struggle to read. I still struggle to write. I make an effort everyday to understand the reasons behind my reluctance and rationalise why I should read- because I like it. I like being a reader. I like to see how language flows, learn about how people think (or used to think), pick up new words and read aloud phrases I underlined to a friend.
I like reading—so I read—period!
…
Reading, like any journey, is deeply personal. Some people read for entertainment, some for knowledge, and some not at all—and that’s perfectly fine too. So, if the idea of reading feels daunting- maybe don’t overthink it? Just start with what you enjoy, and let the rest unfold naturally.
At the end of the day, reading should bring joy!
And if it doesn’t, don’t you worry buddy—We’ll still love you!
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