Why We Stopped Reading — and How to Fall in Love With It Again

When I watch my nephew read with pure joy—face lit up, body at ease—I’m reminded that the love of reading never really leaves us. It just gets buried beneath the noise.

When I was a child, my greatest escape was found in a book.

My world was loud, chaotic, and oftentimes felt dangerous, but within the pages of a story, I found quiet, peace, and safety.

I grew up in the South, where pine trees abound. Just outside my front door lay an oasis of soft needles and azalea bushes circling the small island my mother cultivated to keep back the ivy that threatened to swallow the yard.

Between the sweet, pink azaleas lay a secret—one only I knew, because only a child could fit through the hidden opening.

I don’t remember how I found it. Maybe it found me.

But deep between the bushes, reachable only by crawling on my hands and knees, there was a narrow gap that opened into a small, protected world.

No adult could see it.

No one could follow.

It was mine.

I’d drag in a blanket, a snack, and most importantly, my books. Anne of Green Gables. Little Women. Island of the Blue Dolphins. I’d disappear for hours, pausing only to watch clouds dance across the sky above my secret sanctuary. That small clearing held more magic than any amusement park.

It held freedom.

And while life looks different now, the world is no less overwhelming.

The noise has changed, but it hasn’t quieted.

It’s harder to find stillness—much less sustained attention.

Adulthood brings responsibilities that don’t leave room for wandering off with a paperback. And the digital world offers a thousand ways to escape instantly—shorter, faster, easier.

A scroll here.

A clip there.

Micro-doses of distraction that trick us into believing we’ve rested.

Recently, in a writers’ group, I listened to published authors lament how often people avoid “heavy” books or anything over 300 pages.

“No one has the time.”

“Kids choose books based on width, not interest.”

“We’ve trained ourselves to prefer quickness over depth.”

They weren’t wrong.

But I keep thinking of that younger version of myself—how she would sprint to the library, arms full of books she could barely carry. How she trusted stories to save her when her home was filled with yelling. How she crawled through azalea brambles just to reach the sweetness of a quiet world she could disappear into.

I know I’m not alone in missing that feeling—of being lost in a book, consumed by a story, suspended in another world. And yet, somehow, it feels as if nearly all of us drifted away from it.

So why did we stop reading?

Why We Stopped Reading

We didn’t lose our love of reading. We lost the conditions that allowed it.

We lost time.

Or rather, we filled it with obligations, notifications, and the myth that productivity is the highest virtue.

We lost attention.

Not because we aren’t capable—but because our brains are constantly pulled into shallow waters.

We lost stillness.

Quiet is now a luxury. A rare commodity. Something we have to seek out rather than something we naturally stumble into.

We lost the permission to escape.

Children are allowed to disappear into stories. Adults are expected to stay on top of everything.

We lost the ritual.

Reading used to be woven into our days—school libraries, bedtime stories, summer reading lists, weekly trips to the library.

Then we grew up, and those structures fell away.

And without the space, the time, the stillness, and the ritual…our love of reading didn’t die. It simply went dormant.

How to Fall in Love With Reading Again

The good news?

Reading doesn’t require a secret azalea hideout to return to you.

You can rebuild it gently, without pressure or goals.

If you’re wondering how to fall in love with reading again, it starts with rebuilding the simple rituals that once made stories feel magical.

Here’s how:

1. Start with pleasure, not obligation.

Read what delights you—not what you think you “should” read.

Revisit the book that first captured your imagination.

2. Lower the bar. Dramatically.

Ten minutes. One chapter. A few pages before bed.

Consistency matters more than quantity.

3. Pair reading with comfort.

A warm drink. A blanket. A quiet corner.

Your nervous system will thank you.

4. Create friction for your phone.

Put it in another room. Turn it face down.

Let reading win by removing the competition.

5. Choose depth over noise.

A good story will hold you, comfort you, provide you with an escape.

Let it.

These days, I find myself longing for the stillness of that pine-island sanctuary—not because childhood was simple, but because I allowed myself to escape.

To get lost.

To disappear into a world that wasn’t mine, and yet somehow healed me.

I’m learning to find that feeling again—not by crawling through azaleas, but by choosing to make room for wonder. Maybe you’re ready to make room for it too.

What book made you fall in love with reading?

And what would it feel like to return to it now?

If you or your teen is longing to reconnect with reading, I’d love to help.

Email: greer@greersabin.com  or call: (303) 437-0917.