Last year was a tough one for reading. I legitimately had a lot going on, between a house hunt that took the better part of seven months and the move that followed. But I also struggled to stick with books, even after I’d unpacked them in my new home. I often wantered from shelf to shelf, piling books in my bed in an attempt to select something that would stick. I felt unmoored.
For unrelated reasons, a wise friend suggested I talk to my doctor about resuming use of SSRIs. Because this conversation took place in December, my appointment was several weeks out. As I waited, I wondered: Would getting back on anti-depressants help me return to my typical reading habit?
I’ve tracked my reading since the mid-aughts, and it was made that much easier when I joined Goodreads. I don’t currently set numerical goals because I found they stole the joy from my reading. But tracking my habits offers other benefits, primarily serving as a record of my year.
If my numbers skew high, I check in to see if there’s some other aspect of life I’ve been avoiding. (Of course, my top year was 2020. I’m sure you can guess why I finished 150 books that year.) Reading significantly fewer books than usual can suggest other challenges.
In 2024, I finished 44 books, my fewest in more than a decade. But just a week into my newly medicated year, I texted a friend to tell her I’d finished more than 140 pages that day.
I was back.
I don’t expect 2025 to be an exceptional reading year, although the number of books I’ve preordered might suggest otherwise. But a few weeks ago, I realized I was on track for a distinctive goal: In the first six months of 2025, I read 44 books. I’ve matched last year’s total in half the time.
I still had quite a few books to go when I realized this was possible. I set my focus on clearing my Goodreads “currently reading” shelf (although I didn’t complete all the climate change books I had underway). I read a mix of what I wanted, books for review and books for book club.
When I finished book 43 on June 29, I decided to select something short and familiar to carry me across this mid-year finish line. I pulled Anna Quindlen’s “How Reading Changed My Life” off the shelf and revisited a favorite essay collection.
A friend gave me this slim book as a birthday present 15 years ago, and I’ve extended the same gift to others throughout the years. My copy bears notes from each time I’ve read the book. It’s seen me from my late 20s into middle age, and each version of me feels at home within these covers.
At 82 pages, “How Reading Changed My Life” felt like the perfect way to reach this milestone. I track the quantity of what I read, but the volume isn’t really my point. The quality these pages add to my days is what I seek.