I’ve never been able to read books at a fast pace. Throughout school and college, my reading speed never increased, no matter how often I read—even when I was under pressure to read a novel a week for class, which absolutely did not happen. So in order to make myself feel better about my snail-paced reading, I’m putting together a list of the reasons it is better to be a very slow, decidedly not-fast reader. It’s actually fine, really.
1. You get to re-read large sections of the book because by the time you’re halfway through, you’ve forgotten the beginning.
If a character doesn’t appear for a couple of chapters, the chances are you’ve forgotten who they are and must therefore return to previous parts of the story in search of clues as to who this person is—likewise, by the time you’re about halfway through a text of any significant length, you’ve more than likely forgotten most of the key details of the beginning of the book and must therefore return to the start and reread portions. This gives you a much more in-depth reading of the text than if you just read it from start to finish.
2. The book you’re reading becomes part of who you are because you’ve been reading it for so freaking long.
What’s up? I’m Laura-Blaise. I’m twenty-five. And I’ve been reading The Master and Margharita every day for three months and no longer know what day it is or where I live.
3. You acquire supreme book mending skills.
You become unbelievable at fixing battered books, as you tend to your book’s torn pages, frayed edges, and other injuries it has sustained from being carried around with you on planes, trains, and automobiles, shoved into and pulled out of your bag, handled and held for literally months.
4. You get to live in a house that is essentially made of books.
You get to live in a house that is essentially made of books because, like many other book lovers, you compulsively acquire books but, unlike many other book lovers, you cannot read fast enough to keep up with the amount of books that keep mysteriously appearing in your home.
5. You get seriously emotionally invested in the book you’re reading.
You spend so much time with a particular set of characters that when you finally finish the book, it’s pretty devastating. You’ve become so unhealthily attached to the people in the book that you almost resent the characters of whatever the next book is that you move on to, kind of like a child perceiving a step-parent as trying to usurp the throne once held by their now absent biological parent. It’s tough.
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