In Defense of Enjoying Books Without Overthinking Them
There’s a peculiar moment that happens to many readers, usually somewhere between finishing their college degree and joining their third book club: reading stops being fun. What once felt like stepping through a wardrobe into Narnia becomes an anxiety-inducing exercise in literary analysis. You find yourself highlighting passages not because they move you, but because you think you should. You’re reading with a mental rubric, scoring character development and narrative structure instead of simply letting the story wash over you. The magic has left the building, and in its place sits a stern professor demanding you justify why you loved that romance novel or feel guilty for skimming the dense philosophical passages in your literary fiction pick.
I remember the exact moment I realized I’d become insufferable about books. I was sitting across from a friend at a local coffee shop, and she mentioned loving a popular thriller everyone was reading. Before I could stop myself, I launched into a critique of its “predictable plot” and “one-dimensional characters.” The light in her eyes dimmed. She wasn’t asking for a dissertation. She just wanted to share something that brought her joy. That’s when it hit me: I’d traded the pure pleasure of reading for the performance of being well-read. I’d become so focused on reading the “right” books the “right” way that I’d forgotten why I fell in love with reading in the first place.
Here’s the truth that the literary gatekeepers don’t want you to know: books are meant to be enjoyed, not endured. Whether you’re devouring a spicy romantasy at 2 AM or actually reading “Ulysses” for fun (bless you), your reading life is yours to curate. At Nevermore Lane, I believe in the magic of stories in all their forms, from cozy mysteries to epic fantasy to that guilty pleasure beach read you keep hidden on your eReader. It’s time to silence your inner college professor, embrace reading as the pleasure it’s meant to be, and rediscover the enchantment waiting between the pages.
Why Reading Became a Performance Instead of a Pleasure
Somewhere along the way, reading transformed from a personal sanctuary into a public performance. Social media turned our bookshelves into curated displays of intellectual credibility. Bookstagram feeds overflow with aesthetically arranged hardcovers, and BookTok creates viral sensations overnight, making readers feel pressure to consume specific titles to stay culturally relevant. We’ve turned reading into a competitive sport where the person who finishes the most books, reads the densest classics, or discovers the most obscure indie author wins some imaginary trophy.
The publishing industry hasn’t helped matters. We’re bombarded with “must-read” lists, awards that supposedly separate literary wheat from commercial chaff, and think pieces declaring which books matter and which ones are merely frivolous entertainment. Book clubs, while wonderful in many ways, can inadvertently reinforce the idea that every book needs deep discussion and analysis. We dissect themes, debate symbolism, and search for deeper meaning when sometimes a story is just a story, and that’s perfectly acceptable.
This performance anxiety extends beyond what we read to how we read. Speed readers brag about their annual book counts. Slow readers feel inadequate. Those who enjoy audiobooks face judgment from people who insist that listening “doesn’t count.” Readers who skip boring parts or DNF (did not finish) books they’re not enjoying carry guilt like they’ve committed some cardinal sin against literature. We’ve created so many rules about the right way to read that we’ve forgotten there’s really only one rule that matters: read what brings you joy.
The Literary Snobbery That’s Stealing Your Reading Magic
Literary snobbery operates on the toxic premise that some books are inherently more valuable than others, and by extension, some readers are more sophisticated than others. This hierarchy places literary fiction at the pinnacle, with genres like romance, fantasy, and mystery relegated to guilty pleasure status. It’s the same elitism that makes people apologize for reading “beach reads” or feel compelled to defend their love of young adult fiction. This artificial stratification ignores a fundamental truth: good writing exists in every genre, and poorly written books exist everywhere, including on prize-winner lists.
The damage this snobbery inflicts goes deeper than hurt feelings. It creates readers who choose books based on how they’ll look on their shelf or sound in conversation rather than what genuinely interests them. People force themselves through novels they hate because someone declared them important. They hide the books they actually love, the ones they reread until the pages fall out, because these treasured stories don’t carry enough literary prestige. This shame-based reading culture turns what should be a joyful escape into another source of anxiety and inadequacy.
What’s particularly insidious about literary gatekeeping is how it disguises itself as intellectualism. Dismissing romance as formulaic while praising literary fiction that follows equally predictable patterns. Mocking fantasy worlds while celebrating obscure historical references that require footnotes. Claiming that books need to be difficult or depressing to have value, as if joy and accessibility somehow diminish a story’s worth. This gatekeeping doesn’t elevate literature. It just makes fewer people want to engage with it.
Reading for Pure Joy Is a Radical Act of Self-Care
In a world that constantly demands we optimize, improve, and extract value from every activity, reading purely for enjoyment becomes an act of rebellion. When you pick up a book simply because the cover caught your eye or because you want to know what happens next, you’re reclaiming reading as a pleasure rather than a productivity metric. You’re choosing presence over performance, delight over duty. This shift represents more than just changing your reading habits. It’s about honoring your own preferences and trusting that your entertainment choices don’t require external validation.
Reading for joy also means giving yourself permission to engage with books on your own terms. Love the first half but lost interest? Stop reading. Adore a book everyone else hated? That’s valid. Want to reread the same comfort book for the twentieth time instead of tackling your intimidating TBR pile? Do it. Your reading life should feel like visiting a favorite coffee shop, not attending a mandatory lecture. The moment reading becomes another checkbox on your self-improvement list, it loses the very quality that makes it magical: the ability to transport, comfort, and delight without demanding anything in return.
This approach to reading also serves as powerful self-care in ways that productivity-focused reading never can. The right book at the right time can soothe anxiety, provide escape during difficult periods, or simply offer the comfort of spending time with characters who feel like friends. These benefits don’t require the book to be challenging or critically acclaimed. Sometimes a cozy mystery or a swoon-worthy romance does more for your mental health than any prize-winning literary novel could. Honoring this truth means treating your reading preferences with the same respect you’d give any other form of self-care.
How to Reconnect with Books on Your Own Terms
Rediscovering the joy of reading starts with a simple but profound permission: you’re allowed to like what you like. Create a judgment-free zone around your reading life. If you loved that book everyone’s criticizing, embrace it. If you hated that critically acclaimed novel everyone’s praising, that’s okay too. Your reading experience is valid regardless of what reviewers, influencers, or that one friend with impeccable literary taste thinks. Start paying attention to what genuinely excites you when you browse bookstores or scroll through recommendations, not what you think you should be reading.
Next, examine and discard any reading rules that aren’t serving you. You don’t have to finish every book you start. You don’t have to read a certain number of books per year. You don’t have to diversify your genres if you’re genuinely happy reading the same type of book repeatedly. You don’t have to remember every detail or be able to write a book report. Reading isn’t school. There’s no test. The only measure of a successful reading experience is whether it brought you pleasure, comfort, excitement, or whatever feeling you were seeking when you picked up that book.
Finally, curate your reading environment to maximize joy and minimize judgment. Unfollow social media accounts that make you feel bad about your reading choices. Stop tracking your reading if it’s become stressful rather than fun. Leave book clubs that feel more like literary criticism classes than enjoyable discussions. Seek out reading communities that celebrate all types of books and readers. Fill your shelves with books you actually want to read, not ones you think you should display. Create cozy reading spaces that invite you to settle in and lose yourself in a story. Remember that reading should feel like coming home, not like homework.
Embracing the Full Spectrum of Reading Experiences
One of the most freeing realizations in your reading life is understanding that you can hold space for multiple reading experiences simultaneously without contradiction. You can devour a romantasy series while also slowly savoring a complex literary novel. You can appreciate challenging books that make you think while also loving light reads that require nothing but your presence. You can read for escape, for education, for comfort, for growth, and for pure entertainment. These different approaches to reading don’t compete with each other. They complement each other, creating a rich and varied reading life.
This spectrum extends to how we consume stories too. Audiobooks offer a different but equally valid reading experience, perfect for commutes, chores, or when your eyes need a break. E-readers provide convenience and accessibility. Physical books offer tactile pleasure and that incomparable new book smell. Each format brings its own magic. Similarly, rereading beloved books serves a different purpose than exploring new releases, and both have value. Comfort reads that you return to again and again aren’t a sign that you’re not growing as a reader. They’re evidence that you’ve found stories that nourish something deep within you.
The key is rejecting the false binary that positions serious reading against fun reading, as if these categories are mutually exclusive. Some of the most profound books are also deeply entertaining. Some genre fiction tackles complex themes with nuance and skill. Some literary fiction is boring despite its prestigious reputation. The artificial divide between “worthy” and “unworthy” books serves no one except people who’ve built their identity on judging others’ reading choices. When you embrace the full spectrum of reading experiences, you’re not lowering your standards. You’re expanding your capacity for joy and connection with stories in all their beautiful, diverse forms.
Reclaim Your Reading Magic and Never Apologize
Your reading life is one of the most personal aspects of who you are. The books that make your heart race, the stories that bring you comfort, the characters who feel like friends—these aren’t trivial preferences. They’re windows into what moves you, what you value, and what brings you joy. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for loving a romance novel or a fantasy epic. You don’t need to justify skipping the dense sections or rereading your favorites until the spines crack. Reading for pleasure isn’t a guilty indulgence that needs defending. It’s a form of self-care, entertainment, and connection that deserves to be celebrated exactly as it is.
The world has enough judgment, enough rules, enough people telling us we’re doing things wrong. Your reading life can be a refuge from all of that. It can be the one place where you simply follow your curiosity and your heart, choosing stories that call to you without worrying whether those choices make you look smart, well-read, or properly literary. The magic of books lies in their ability to transport us, and that magic doesn’t care about genre hierarchies or literary credentials. It only cares about the connection between reader and story.
So here’s your permission slip, if you need one: read what you love, love what you read, and never apologize for finding joy in the pages of any book. Whether you’re curling up with a cozy mystery, getting lost in an epic fantasy world, swooning over a romance, or yes, even tackling “Ulysses” because you genuinely want to, your reading choices are valid. The only person who gets to decide what makes a good reading life is you. Everything else is just noise. Turn the page, lose yourself in the story, and remember why you fell in love with reading in the first place. The magic is still there, waiting for you to stop overthinking and start enjoying.
Ready for more bookish magic? Browse my other posts about building a reading life that truly nourishes you, from creating cozy reading spaces to finding your next favorite book. And if you’re craving more conversation about books, magic, and living intentionally, join me for coffee over on Instagram @Read_Write_Sip or explore the enchantment at Nevermore Lane, where we celebrate stories in all their forms.
Like what you read? Drop me a line – let’s chat over virtual coffee.
~ Chrystal
