A Confession

One of my favourite people in the world owns a bookstore.

It is a genuinely beautiful shop. The kind of place where the shelves feel curated by someone who actually knows books, and more importantly, actually knows people. I could spend hours wandering through it. I have spent hours wandering through it. I love it. I love them. I want nothing more than to support this endeavour with every fibre of my being.

I have bought several books there.

Have I read them? No. Well. One. I have read one of them.

Have I, in at least one case, borrowed the exact same book I bought from them as an audiobook through the library and listened to it instead?

Yes. Yes I have.

How I Actually Read

I know how this sounds. And I have heard every argument. The smell. The weight of it in your hands. The satisfying crack of the spine. The physical act of turning a page. I hear you. I truly do. And then I go back to being curled up on my side in bed, phone on the nightstand, e-reader balanced on the blanket, every light in the room off.

That is how I read ebooks. Nestled in, lights out, no distractions. When I fall asleep mid-chapter, which happens more than I will admit, my e-reader quietly saves my place and powers down without judgment. No dog-eared pages. No losing my spot. No fumbling for a lamp at midnight. It is just right for me in a way I cannot fully explain but also cannot argue with.

And then there are audiobooks, which are a completely different thing. Audiobooks are for when my hands are busy: walking the dog, doing the dishes, folding laundry, driving somewhere. I am not sitting down for those. I am moving through the world while a story moves through my headphones, and it works beautifully. Some books I have genuinely loved more in audio than I ever would have on a page, because the right narrator can turn a good book into a full performance.

Physical books do not fit neatly into either of those situations. And that is where things fall apart.

The Evidence Against Me

I have tried. I want to be clear about that. I have made genuine efforts.

I will sit in the playroom while my kid plays on the floor, physical book in hand, trying to model that reading is something I love and value. This is a lovely idea in theory. In practice, the book eventually gets set down. Then it migrates. Then it is somehow behind a couch cushion, or under a pile of Lego, or simply gone. And when I finally find myself with a spare moment and the genuine desire to read, I cannot locate it, and I give up and open my e-reader instead.

I have brought physical books to coffee shops, which I love. I pop them in my bag, get a good table, order something warm, and feel very literary about the whole situation. And then something happens. The book goes back in the bag. Life intervenes. The bag gets set down somewhere. And by the time I am ready to read again, I genuinely cannot tell you where the book is in relation to my current location. And if I am lucky enough to keep track of it, I then spend half my reading time trying to find my spot.

And in bed, where I do most of my reading, a physical book just never cooperates. The light is wrong. The position is awkward. I cannot find the angle where the book lies flat without my arm going numb. It is a whole ordeal, and eventually I put it down and go back to the thing that actually works.

The Unfussed Take

This blog is called The Unfussed Reader for a reason. The whole point is that there is no wrong way to love books. Read what you love, in whatever format lets you actually finish it. That is the rule. That is the only rule.

So here is my honest position: I am a person who deeply loves books, deeply loves bookstores, and has made peace with the fact that the physical object and I are just not compatible in practice. The books my friend sells me are beautiful. They look great on my shelf. They represent real intentions and genuine enthusiasm, and one day, maybe, I will read one of them in the format it was printed in.

Until then: library audiobook. Every time. No guilt.

If you also love bookstores and also cannot seem to actually read the books you buy there, I hope this helps. You are not alone. We are out here, buying beautiful things we will listen to later, and we are fine.

Unfussed Homework (Optional, Obviously)

Think about the format you actually finish books in, not the one you feel like you should be using. Are they the same? If not, what is stopping you from just leaning into whatever actually works for you?

– Read what you love, The Unfussed Reader