Years back I wrote a doodle making the case for physical over digital books. Over three points I argued that “owning a relatively small amount of excellent books in hard copy format is better than possessing an immense digital library.” In the tradition of that doodle, below I’m going to explain why listening to books—and by extension podcasts—is an incomparably poor substitute for reading them. No doubt the pitchforks will come out, held aloft with flaming torches as the digital illiterati decry my backward ways, but hear me out. I’ll keep it short—and apologies in advance, there won’t be an audio version.

So in no particular order, here are a few of the reasons why I’m convinced reading books and articles trumps listening to them or podcasts.

Relatively Lower Retention

Much has been written about the differences between oral and literate cultures. And whether you like it or not, the vast majority of Westerners were raised in the latter. This means we weren’t brought up to be good listeners but readers—just ask my wife. Now I can’t get into all of that here, neither the millennia long debate over this distinction nor my failings as a husband. Instead, I offer you a simple test: how much do you retain of what you’ve listened to over against what you read?

I used to have a ministry colleague who found reading tedious. He also got it into his mind that we retain very little of what we read. Perhaps. Only the demands of reading well are in my opinion what makes it superior. Only let’s assume he was right. Let’s assume that you retain around 10% of what you read. Fine. I’d wager that the retention in listening is around 1%. And you, yes you, someone who consumes two hours of podcasts a day, can testify.

Exceptions Make Bad Rules

To my previous point there are undoubtedly some exceptions. Another former colleague used to tell me about some or other theologian who would listen to a book on double speed during a three hour cycle. When he returned he would sit down and produce an extensive summary of said book, critically engaging with it and developing its thought in his own writing. Incredible. But you’re not that theologian. Chances are you forget two of the five shopping items you’ve been sent to get—or is that only me?

Exceptions make bad rules. And they shouldn’t be offered as principals. Consider lyrics. You’re singing along to your favourite song when someone says, “those aren’t the words.” How do you settle this? Do you listen to the song on repeat? Probably not, since it hasn’t worked up to that point. Rather, you hop online or open up Apple Music and read the lyrics.

Multitasking Is a Myth

I promised that this would be brief, so let’s consider one last point: genuinely multitasking is an impossibility for almost everyone. You may have 16 internet tabs open at any given moment, but even then you can only give your attention to one of them at at time. Recently the case has been made that this is true of our minds. In an outstanding little book, Tony Reinke goes as far as saying that, “Attention is a zero sum game” (Competing Spectacles, §12). While he might be overstating the matter, we simply can’t give considerable—and the necessary—attention to more than one thing simultaneously.

Take driving as an example. Even the most competent driver will reach points in their commute when the task before them demands greater focus and care, let’s call it attention. This may only be a couple of seconds, but puncturing a 45 minute listen will profoundly impact one’s experience of an audiobook. I’m not sure why we pretend otherwise.

Let the Listener Understand

By design, my doodles are never complete thoughts. They’re also far from comprehensive. Each of the above points could be expanded into it own article, while other points could be added—something I probably won’t commit my time to, though I have come close before. That being said, a benefit of doodles is that they tend to provoke critical interaction, which I heartily welcome.

In sum, if it hasn’t been clear enough above: there is a marked difference between listening to a book and reading one. I’d go as far as suggesting this distinction is categorical; in other words, reading a book is an entirely different—and more fruitful activity—than listening to one. If I were to push a little further, I’m not sure you can claim to have read a book when you’ve only listened to it. This, as I’ve argued above, will likely be borne out by how little you’ve retained after all that listening.

Beware Muddy Waters

Let me leave you with a final thought. The popularity of audiobooks has muddied the waters around reading. No one listens to a podcast and then regales their friends with tales of all the podcasts they’ve read. Similarly, no one listens to a story told by those same friends and goes on to speak about having read it. So why do we do that very thing with reading?