I have been reading books for as long as I can remember. In fact, if possible, I probably would have been born holding a book. Growing up I was fortunate not to have to worry about money and my mother raised me on the principle of “if you want a toy you have to wait a week to be sure you really want it, but if you want a book you can have it now.” Naturally my child mind wanted the thing I could have now; Quite a clever tactic really. I was read stories before bed; though my father preferred to make up his own stories and encourage me to do the same.
I take books everywhere with me. Even if I know for sure there is not an opportunity to read, I bring one along as a “just in case.” You never know when a quick two minutes might occur to pop into a fictional world. As I struggled with those around me not wanting to talk about books all the time – and many not reading the same things as me – I turned to the internet in search of a space that had other people like me. And thankfully I found a whole community.
And here we are, three years into a blog and a couple of months past a disastrous booktube channel attempt. Like many, I feel so much pressure to not only keep up with the new books but love them as everyone else and I feel like a failure when I don’t. My blog is scheduled so far in advance but already I’m worrying about the fact that I haven’t finished anything new that I want to review.
Back in March, it started to creep in like a gremlin lurking in the shadows: the reading slump. It manifests itself differently for everyone. But for me, I just don’t enjoy what I’m reading. Even if it’s textbook the sort of thing I would like, it just leaves me feeling empty. Reading is often an escape from my mental health which is obviously not a good way to go about things. But not enjoying reading also leads to me having a general life slump and I realise that I don’t have that much in my life outside of reading and writing, and it’s a dark place to be at times.
It can feel lonely and hopeless and I’m yet to find a way to really get out a reading slump other than to reread something I loved dearly. But then that pressure to be involved in the community bubbles to the surface again and I realise I’m falling behind. It’s sad to, in a way, fall out of love with books; especially when knowing how much time the author put into them.
But for now, I’ll keep muddling through a reading slump that’s been around since March… and hope for the best.