I’m a very slow reader. Not even just a little bit, either. I’m talking, sometimes it takes me a month or more to finish a big book. I’ve given myself a hard time over it so often, telling myself I’ll never be a good writer if I’m not reading more, and while that’s not completely untrue… I’m here to defend myself along with all the other slow readers out there. My argument is simple, and it comes in the form of a silly simile, and it is this: Chewing through the pages just to get to the ending is like going out for a lovely dinner but not taking the time to care how it tastes. When you’re complaining at the end, thinking there may have been something missing, you’ve only got yourself to blame.
By no means do I wish to spark a debate. There are plenty of people out there who read quickly and retain everything. Some of us, however, do have to slow down and take those pages at a more leisurely pace in order to absorb and enjoy the story.
So, I’m Mark Karsten, and I’m here to tell you one important thing.
It’s not a bad thing to slow down. Books shouldn’t be a race. Spend your time in those made up worlds at your own damn ease and don’t let anybody tell you you’re doing it wrong.
If you’re a fast reader who burns through a book every three days and enjoys every second of it, you’re not doing anything wrong either.
Books are meant to be enjoyed. So, enjoy them. Don’t just rush to the ending, hoping to find satisfaction there. Unless that’s your thing, I guess… but, like, why?