Why Reading Fiction Isn’t a Waste of Time

Over the years, my relationship with reading has changed. When I was younger, I was willing to murder my brother in cold blood to get my hands on the single copy of the newest Harry Potter my grandmother purchased while we visited her over the summer. Truly— I was willing to be charged as an adult by a jury full of strangers just for the sake of getting carried away by a world of giant trolls and teen angst bouncing off the walls of a snow-covered castle. No way was my brother going to experience it before me. FIGHT TO THE DEATH.

Then I went to college and traded novels for text books. I majored in psychology because I really enjoyed reading about how the human brain works, but fiction fell by the wayside.

I basically forgot books of any kind existed once I graduated college. (Except when the last Harry Potter came out in 2011 and I was too poor to buy it when living in NYC, so I’ll never forget reading it in a few sittings inside a Barnes & Noble in Brooklyn…not the most admirable choice, but girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.) Maybe I read a book here or there over the years after that…I remember reading Gone Girl when it was popular, and a few Emily Giffin novels. FINE I read the Fifty Shades of Grey series. And Divergent.

But it wasn’t until I had Anders that I began reading consistently. I’m not sure why, exactly, having a baby resulted in reading nonfiction, but it did. Probably trying to grasp for any form of identity outside of motherhood. I started gobbling up self-help and memoirs on a quest for personal growth and inspiration. And it was GREAT.

Shoe Dog. Essentialism. For the Love. Untamed. Big Magic. Can’t Hurt Me. Atomic Habits. Year of Yes.

But during that time, I began to take on the common motivation of avid nonfiction readers (though I hardly qualified as avid), which was to believe reading had one purpose: productivity.

• learn a skill

• self-assessment

• gain insight from experts

• feel like a smarty pants

There was this idea that fun fiction— anything easy to read or that doesn’t have some underlying political message or historical significance— was trash. Silly. Akin to reality tv. A waste of time. I’d throw in more “respectable fiction” like Where the Crawdads Sing or Such a Fun Age…but mostly, I stuck to “helpful,” nonfiction books.

Then I moved to Florida last year, and I really struggled with my mental health. I decided I needed a healthy form of escape, so I grabbed a cute cover from Target and started reading. I haven’t stopped since. It’s been a year of me reading at least one book a week— 90% fiction. And it’s been GLORIOUS.

Reading for enjoyment offers the rare chance to slow down in the modern age. To completely disengage from screens and hustle— to value rest and imagination with no ulterior motive to keep charging along in the rat race.

I firmly believe God calls us to rest. In the Bible, it’s called the Sabbath. A day for rest and worship. For me, resting my brain through reading allows me to slow down once I put down the book. It puts me to sleep. Or primes me stare off into space for a bit when I finish a chapter. Not stare off into my phone…no. I’m talking true mental space and rest, without a racing mind or mindless stimulation. A form of meditation. Prayer. Mindfulness.

And it’s not just that fiction offers rest and genuine enjoyment— there are, in fact, “productive” benefits! Narrative is the most powerful form of influence and understanding. I’ve been deeply inspired by characters, I’ve been forced to evaluate how I see the world, I’ve been challenged to show up differently in my relationships, I’ve found nuggets of wisdom about how to approach life and stay focused on what truly matters. All wrapped in beautiful settings that remind me about the beauty of our surroundings or the power in the details.

Moral of the story? Not everything has to be so serious for it to add serious value to your life.

If you’re looking for ideas about what to read, check out my highlights on Instagram. I love sharing mini book reviews! 33 so far this year…but it’s not a race. Or a rush. It’s FUN. It’s rest. It’s life-giving.

Okay I can’t help it…here are a few favorites:

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

The Great Alone

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers

The Hotel Nantucket

Remarkably Bright Creatures

The Housemaid

The Golden Couple

Meant to Be

Book Lovers

…I’ll cut myself off there!