Why Read?

Recently, I changed my reading habits.

For a long time, I read out of a sense of duty. I felt that there were all these books that I should read. Books from the field in which I write. Books which are 'important' - historically, or politically, or because people are talking about them. I had a shelf dedicated to them. Then two shelves. Then a pile of books next to those two shelves. This pernicious habit may have been learned when I did my PhD, when I actually did have to read certain books. Somewhere along the line, reading became no fun. I always 'had to' finish through the book in order to get onto the next one that I 'had to read'. There was never enough time, damn it. After all, I hadn't read Crime and Punishment, The Iliad, the latest cutting edge works of speculative fiction.

Then, a little while ago, I just stopped cold. I realised that feeling I used to have as a child and teenager, when I really really loved to read, was long gone. I realised that nothing was that important, really. I don't need to read anything to write my fiction, or for any other reason, really. So I changed my habits. Anytime I felt I 'should' read a book, I put it aside and didn't read it. Even if I was halfway through. It wasn't that hard, once I started. Now I only read because I want to. If I don't want to, I won't read at all (unless it's for work). Breathe a great sigh of relief - reading has become fun again.

Perhaps this should be taken as a metaphor.