The One where I Fulminate Over Aggressive Book Snobs And Ridiculous Competitive Readers

A Guest Blog by Leah Nayar

I woke up this morning, opened my eyes and saw your silhouette in the half darkness. I reached out for you, pulled you towards me and breathed in your scent. Lost in a moment of unlimited possibility, I closed my eyes and relaxed. Then the war cries erupted, a simultaneous roar of breakfast demands, lost school tights and wet bed issues yanked me from my daze and any hope of a morning lazing in bed getting to know Jamie Fraser was brutally dispelled. Not a morning in bed, not an afternoon on the sofa and an evening? Please Jamie, I’ve got a headache and I’m tired. I haven’t really had time to read much lately, and honestly, despite everything I’ve heard about Gabaldon’s Celtic hottie Jamie, he hasn’t managed to get me into bed yet.  

What’s that I hear you say internet??  Nothing will stop you reading, all day and every day.   Not your job, not your kids, not even the daily grind of cooking, showering and driving will slow you down in your pursuit of topping last year’s record breaker of 639 books, in every colour of the rainbow and in five different languages, not until all the books on earth have been inhaled and tossed aside.  Even if I hate it, I’ll bloody well finish it because I love books the best, better that anyone else.  Ever.

I love reading.  I really love it.  I love books, reading them, thinking about them, talking about them, dreaming about writing them and, best of all, sniffing them.  But, on some level, so does most of humanity.  It’s pretty much the most popular and least elitist hobby going, worldwide.  And yet….  

Lately, I’ve been feeling uncomfortable where books and reading are concerned.  In the advent of lovely online book banter it seems to have gone from the ultimate hobby of the relaxed to an actual competitive sport.  I am aware of this because, just for a minute, I found myself having anxiety because I haven’t read anything for a few weeks now.  I’ve never felt stressed because I haven’t got a book on the go, it’s just a case of too many kids, not enough me time.  But I‘ve read one thread too many about deep anxiety over people’s TBR lists and how they were reading two different books, six hours a day each in order to get through it.  Like it was work.

So, what the hell is going on?  Reading, last time I checked, is meant to be an enjoyable, leisurely pursuit.  Not a filthy online ego fest of one upping and whoever reads the most books wins.  Is nothing sacred anymore?  Do you need reminding that, most of us learn to read before we’re in double digits, it’s not a special gift you have been bestowed.  Whether or not you are crowing about slaying six hundred pages in three hours for a bunch of strangers to like and wow over (they don’t care), you are not special.  Pretty much everyone reads. 

Which brings me to part two of weird competitive book vibe….book snobbery.  Yes, it’s a thing people, I’ve seen it with my actual eyes.  If you don’t know, this is where people will openly mock and belittle others for their literary tipple.  These people usually assume that if someone enjoys anything other than ‘The Classics’ they are to be relegated into a lower rank of reader, and indeed human being.  Should a person deign to happily enjoy the pleasures of Mills and Boon, but have little interest in other genres and authors it is entirely appropriate that the intellectual giants may openly patronise and ridicule these people for their blinkered outlook, reasoning that they “Just think people should broaden their horizons and challenge themselves” and “Why are these people reading books written for young adults?  What are they, like, twelve?“  Fnarr, fnarr. Oh, sigh, do fuck off you patronising bastards.  Imagine, people just reading books they enjoy, for enjoyment.

Nobody has to justify what, why, how much or how fast they read.  Because that is just weird and people who show off about what, why, how much and how fast they read are, well, a bit dickish in my opinion.  On occasion I have read comments about people not being able to finish a book that everyone else raved about or that they are only getting through one book a month and they ask things like “Am I doing it wrong”.  The short and glaringly obvious answer is, no.  What you really need to know is this…pick up a book you like the sound of, open it, read the words on the page and repeat if the words are enjoyable to your brain, if you have a job you should go to that and if you have kids you should feed them and talk to them and read to them too, then when you have some more time, continue reading the words, if the words become unenjoyable to your brain, close the book and start a new one.  Simple really.

But most of all, I hate the idea of anyone feeling like an inferior reader.  Just because someone has read more books doesn’t make them a more experienced reader, they just had time to read more books.  As long as you read and you enjoy, nothing else really matters.  So, don’t be intimidated by the book snobs or the competitive readers because they’re the ones who are doing it wrong.  All wrong.

Now, it’s Autumn, so I’m off to un-apologetically re-read some Jilly Cooper, because I love her and my brain enjoys the words.  Especially in Autumn.

Also, I never finished reading A Man Called Ove.

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