I read so much in my youth, I could read cover to cover in one go thanks to the power of hyperfocus. Reading was fun and synergised greatly with my ADD-fueled daydreaming.
Unfortunately though high school came along and had to fuck up my intrinsic motivation by force feeding the boomer drivel that ‘everybody should have read in their lives’, and having to write book reports where you’d have to analyse those books to death. Assignments could vary from analysing all the different narrative arcs in the story to the relationship between each main character in the story and even more obscure stuff that I don’t even (want to) remember.
Anyway, this meant reading the ‘classic’ Dutch writers like Reve, Mullisch, Wolkers etc and then analysing a story you didn’t even care about. Fun fact: those writers seem to have an extremely limited repertoire: do you want to read about addiction, WWII, or sex? Ok ok, you had ‘het Gouden Ei’ by Krabbé, on which the movie ‘the Vanishing’ was based. Guess that was a breath of less stale air.
But in the end it sucked the enjoyment I felt when reading from my very soul and replaced it with the feeling that reading books is a chore. At times a slight shimmer of that old spark returns, but never for long. Depending on how often I feel like reading, getting through a book usually takes me months to years these days and rarely captures me like in the past. I’ll never forgive the sadistic bastards who came up with this part of our educational system.
Anyway, sorry for dumping this on you, turned out to be more of a rant than I initially intended. If anybody knows how to convince my brain to consider reading to be fun again, I welcome any insights.
You’re describing exactly what happened to me. In elementary school, I read so many books that I would win free books each semester. We had mandatory reading quizzes each month for books of our choice, and high scorers would select a few books to keep from a big spread. I would read larger, more complex books from the 3rd to 6th grades, as they would net me more reading points than simple books. Thus, my (competitive) book reading habit would feed into reading books I received for free, which in turn could be used to take extra quizzes to win more books.
Then, middle school happened. I was stuck reading books I didn’t care for, covering topics I was already familiar with, and writing analyses that I was already capable of forming within my head. This continued through high school, where I found that I was so disillusioned with narrative literature that I much preferred non-fiction and educational content. I fell out of love with reading, and I don’t think I’ve finished reading a book on my own time, out of enjoyment, in almost a decade (excluding textbooks and non-fiction).
I just can’t find the strength to read through any narratives, as all the busy work ruined reading for me. My least favorite portion of reading for school was being made to fill out entire tables of characters, with details on the mannerisms, presentations, quotes, etc. of each. It was all bullshit.
Because of the hyper focus thing, I had already read all the required reading books. The teachers believed me too, because they saw how many books I was tearing through every year. I would turn in a summary of the book, and then go read something that was “at my level,” such as The Divine Comedy, Canterbury Tales, War and Peace, or Dr. Zhivago. When I gave my analysis of those books, I at least tried to make them sound interesting, rather than ponderous.
The upshot was that when I got to University, I didn’t tell them I already read the books, I just breezed through the work.
I enjoyed reading this rant, I found it very relatable, even though it sounds like we have quite different academic backgrounds. Nowadays, I read a decent amount of non fiction for fun, but I still struggle with reader’s block if I don’t feel like I have a reason to read, like a sort of self-given assignment to be studying for. That’s probably school’s fault too
My mom would have to make me put books down to eat dinner. Then came along 5th grade. We had to read 50 books, each one representing a US state and the states were grouped up in different categories. The books had to be chosen from a pre approved list and the books were anywhere from 6th grade to 8th grade reading difficulty. Then we had to write a full page summary on the book. Which meant on average we were reading more than a book a week. That piled on top of all the other homework the other teachers piled on and it was fucking miserable. I spent almost every school night from the moment I got home to the moment I had to go to bed doing homework, also I had to get up early because I was the first bus stop so yay getting up at 5:30 AM to make the bus. Bonus was I was also the last stop so I got to spend over 2 hours a day on the bus. I usually had so much homework that I’d start doing it on the bus home. Oh and if you fell behind in reading you got punished by staying inside for 2nd recess to read more. By the time I left 5th grade I hated school, I hated reading, I hated teachers, and I hated learning. And I still do to this day. I feel like the education system failed me and I’m suffering for it now.
Well, that takes ‘required reading’ to a whole new dystopian level. I’m sorry you had to go through that, that’s terrible and I just cannot see any other outcome than forging a severe resentment against reading. Hopefully you’ll one day find the motivation again, but I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you never want to read anything again after going through that.
I read so much in my youth, I could read cover to cover in one go thanks to the power of hyperfocus. Reading was fun and synergised greatly with my ADD-fueled daydreaming.
Unfortunately though high school came along and had to fuck up my intrinsic motivation by force feeding the boomer drivel that ‘everybody should have read in their lives’, and having to write book reports where you’d have to analyse those books to death. Assignments could vary from analysing all the different narrative arcs in the story to the relationship between each main character in the story and even more obscure stuff that I don’t even (want to) remember.
Anyway, this meant reading the ‘classic’ Dutch writers like Reve, Mullisch, Wolkers etc and then analysing a story you didn’t even care about. Fun fact: those writers seem to have an extremely limited repertoire: do you want to read about addiction, WWII, or sex? Ok ok, you had ‘het Gouden Ei’ by Krabbé, on which the movie ‘the Vanishing’ was based. Guess that was a breath of less stale air.
But in the end it sucked the enjoyment I felt when reading from my very soul and replaced it with the feeling that reading books is a chore. At times a slight shimmer of that old spark returns, but never for long. Depending on how often I feel like reading, getting through a book usually takes me months to years these days and rarely captures me like in the past. I’ll never forgive the sadistic bastards who came up with this part of our educational system.
Anyway, sorry for dumping this on you, turned out to be more of a rant than I initially intended. If anybody knows how to convince my brain to consider reading to be fun again, I welcome any insights.
You’re describing exactly what happened to me. In elementary school, I read so many books that I would win free books each semester. We had mandatory reading quizzes each month for books of our choice, and high scorers would select a few books to keep from a big spread. I would read larger, more complex books from the 3rd to 6th grades, as they would net me more reading points than simple books. Thus, my (competitive) book reading habit would feed into reading books I received for free, which in turn could be used to take extra quizzes to win more books.
Then, middle school happened. I was stuck reading books I didn’t care for, covering topics I was already familiar with, and writing analyses that I was already capable of forming within my head. This continued through high school, where I found that I was so disillusioned with narrative literature that I much preferred non-fiction and educational content. I fell out of love with reading, and I don’t think I’ve finished reading a book on my own time, out of enjoyment, in almost a decade (excluding textbooks and non-fiction).
I just can’t find the strength to read through any narratives, as all the busy work ruined reading for me. My least favorite portion of reading for school was being made to fill out entire tables of characters, with details on the mannerisms, presentations, quotes, etc. of each. It was all bullshit.
Because of the hyper focus thing, I had already read all the required reading books. The teachers believed me too, because they saw how many books I was tearing through every year. I would turn in a summary of the book, and then go read something that was “at my level,” such as The Divine Comedy, Canterbury Tales, War and Peace, or Dr. Zhivago. When I gave my analysis of those books, I at least tried to make them sound interesting, rather than ponderous.
The upshot was that when I got to University, I didn’t tell them I already read the books, I just breezed through the work.
I enjoyed reading this rant, I found it very relatable, even though it sounds like we have quite different academic backgrounds. Nowadays, I read a decent amount of non fiction for fun, but I still struggle with reader’s block if I don’t feel like I have a reason to read, like a sort of self-given assignment to be studying for. That’s probably school’s fault too
I resonate with this. To get back into the habit I had to find ways to engage multiple senses: https://smoores.gitlab.io/storyteller/
My mom would have to make me put books down to eat dinner. Then came along 5th grade. We had to read 50 books, each one representing a US state and the states were grouped up in different categories. The books had to be chosen from a pre approved list and the books were anywhere from 6th grade to 8th grade reading difficulty. Then we had to write a full page summary on the book. Which meant on average we were reading more than a book a week. That piled on top of all the other homework the other teachers piled on and it was fucking miserable. I spent almost every school night from the moment I got home to the moment I had to go to bed doing homework, also I had to get up early because I was the first bus stop so yay getting up at 5:30 AM to make the bus. Bonus was I was also the last stop so I got to spend over 2 hours a day on the bus. I usually had so much homework that I’d start doing it on the bus home. Oh and if you fell behind in reading you got punished by staying inside for 2nd recess to read more. By the time I left 5th grade I hated school, I hated reading, I hated teachers, and I hated learning. And I still do to this day. I feel like the education system failed me and I’m suffering for it now.
Well, that takes ‘required reading’ to a whole new dystopian level. I’m sorry you had to go through that, that’s terrible and I just cannot see any other outcome than forging a severe resentment against reading. Hopefully you’ll one day find the motivation again, but I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you never want to read anything again after going through that.