In 2013 I started keeping a list of the books I read each year. I can’t account for the decision, but looking over them makes for interesting—well—reading. For example, the number of books I read dips in 2017 and 2018, before plummeting in 2019. The explanation for that trend: my son was born in 2017 and I began a Master’s in 2019. But observing trends in my own reading aren’t really the point of this article. Instead I hope that by reflecting on those lists I can offer up some lessons about reading.

So I’ve done three things below, coinciding with the three headings. I begin by highlighting some of the mistakes I’ve made as a reader, over the years. Then I turn to three things that I believe have served me—and will serve you—well, in this task. Finally, I suggest how you might read more, both in terms of how many books and the size of those books.

Mistakes I’ve Made As a Reader

I’ll start with some mistakes, though only briefly because who wants to dwell on those?

Firstly, before the aforementioned downturn in 2017 I was reading far too many books per annum. The proof is there are titles from those years I have no recollection of—a little like Gandalf in Moria. To quote on old post on this theme, in the words of Plato: “It is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially.” 

Secondly, my reading has often been too scattered and disjointed. Though I advocate for breadth in reading one should also aspire for depth. Put another way, there is a kind of compound interest in your reading that accrues from reading—either simultaneously or sequentially—books that are connected. Here I’m not referring to series, which might have their place. Instead I mean that while you’re reading Humphrey Carpenter’s Inklings biography you could make a point of reading the works of Lewis and Tolkien. That’s just an example, but I think it proves my point.

Thirdly, I finished books I shouldn’t have. There is such a thing as the right book at the wrong time, so put it down and pick it up later. Added to that, there are many wrong books that quite frankly aren’t worth your time. Some of your reading choices should be ruthlessly selective, a point Gavin Ortlund recently made in his excellent guide to getting through more books. You don’t owe mediocre or disappointing books anything—besides, the authors have already received their royalties. Time for reading is often hard fought, so don’t spend it needlessly.

Becoming a Better Reader

I’ve made mistakes. Who hasn’t. But looking over these lists I can see positive trends or patterns worth sharing too.

Firstly—and much in the spirit of this rant—though I read more recent books, even on occasion a trendy one, most of the books listed are tried and tested. Personally, I believe this is especially necessary when it comes to novels, though without being limited to them.You can call me a literary Luddite, I care not. The plain matter of the fact is this: the newest fantasy title everyone is talking about almost certainly pales in comparison to Lord of the Rings; that dystopian book that’s all the rage isn’t better than Fahrenheit 451 or Brave New World; and the latest horror title being adapted for Netflix doesn’t hold a candle to H. P. Lovecraft or Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I think you catch my drift. There’s a good reason only certain books written many moons ago are still in play. Focus on those.

Secondly, I’ve steadily increased my commitment to rereading books. Since 2013 I’ve read Gilead four times; Watership Down on three occasions; and Crime and Punishment twice. Stepping out of fictitious worlds, I’ve read most of the Eugene Peterson books in my library more than once; Packer’s Knowing God thrice; and Carson’s Call to Spiritual Reformation at least four times. C. S. Lewis once opined that “an unliterary man may be defined as one who reads books once only.” But far from falling back into the trap of oneupmanship, he continued, “We do not enjoy a story fully at the first reading.” Put differently, we gain more with each reading of books that warrant more than one outing. So make a practice of returning to books that impacted you, and read them again.

Now for a third thing, before getting to the point I’d initially intended to be the focus of this reflection. Though I can’t say it for every year, my reading list indicates a well varied literary diet. Of course it’s easier and therefore advisable to start where you’re drawn, whether that’s philosophy or history, theology or fiction. But avoid the rut. Don’t reach the end of a year having only 10s of thousands of pages of middling fantasy to show for it. Reading is a wonderful avenue for learning and thinking, so make sure you’ve got a handful of conversation partners operating in disparate fields. Apparently Steven Erikson asked, upon completing his Malazan series,”What’s three and a half million words between friends?” If you’ll permit a frank opinion: too many.

You Can Read Bigger Works, Bit by Bit

In closing, let’s return to where I began. With the arrival of my son, my book intake lessened considerably. But I still managed to get through on average between four and five books per month. And I can still remember the wonder that other parents of young children expressed when I shared that figure with them. How did I do it? Did I neglect my infant son and wife? Maybe. But when I look over my reading lists I notice another trend that started in 2017 and has steadily grown in the subsequent years: reading books bit by bit, slowly and steadily, over a longer period of time.

Now, not every book can be treated in this way. Of course. But many can—see, for example, the books pictured above. Someone who’s modelled and even written about this approach to reading is John Piper, both in his Brothers and this short talk. Admitting to be a slow reader, Piper writes, “We think we don’t have time to read…because life seems to be lived in snatches. One of the most helpful discoveries I made is how much can be read in disciplined blocks.” Piper then does some math to demonstrate that by reading just 20 minutes a day you can read 15 books in a year—or Calvin’s Institutes in just six months.

We often avoid larger books because we know we’ll become despondent at the lack of the progress and give up. Taking the longer view is a great guard against this, while also making seemingly indomitable works a possibility. Tolle lege.