Breaking the Academia Mindset — How to Read for Fun and Craft
Remember when you were able to blast through so many books a week? If you were a big reader as a kid, you might. It feels nostalgic to talk about when reading was for fun and nothing else. Around high school and college, energy tanks and readers tend to lose interest. Annotating, deep analysis with the pressure of grades, all while reading required books, texts, or journal pieces that (for the most part) don’t spark joy. Our reading sensibilities change. For me, that meant not enjoying, focusing on, or “blasting through” anything that I read.
Finding the in-between took time, reminding myself that I don’t need to read everything like I’m being quizzed. Rather, that I can read books I want to read for pleasure’s sake, and get craft advice in the process.
While peeling away from the academic mindset, I found myself asking why I was reading certain books. Was it for school? For fun? Because it’s been hyped for years and sitting on my to-be-read shelf for just as long? When you’ve been reading one way for a while—whether for academics, jobs, or the like—it can be difficult to flip the switch to a different mode. To remind yourself the reason why you read, why you hold the activity so dearly. Above all, I find this is the most important first question to ask.
I still have moments where I go into new books like I have a discussion seminar the next day, and need to understand the why’s of everything that’s happened in the first chapter or else I’ll miss the point of the whole book. Respectfully, that’s so incorrect. Allow me to explain. I was reading The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden, a novel steeped in slavic folklore and medieval Russian history (10/10 recommend). Of course, so much is established in the first act regarding politics and political figures, culture, and landscape so that the main character, Vasya, has a solid stage to carry out her role.
I’m no historian. In fact, I’m horrible at recalling most historical events. Which is why I was so determined to figure out what everything meant in that first act, down to small word choices and historical references. Partly out of curiosity, mostly out of a need to understand everything. If not, how was I going to understand the rest of the story? How was I going to remember?
One of my friends who’d read the book messaged me then—most of the references wouldn’t matter, and what did would be fleshed out in later chapters. In the back of my mind, I knew that. As readers we all trust authors to guide us through the pages. But I still had the academic fear that I wouldn’t understand, or get the most out of the book that I possibly could. What an awful fear that academia imposes on its students. We should be entitled to compensation.
From that point forward, I caught myself. If I overthought a passage, I’d say “if it doesn’t come back, then it wasn’t that deep in the first place.” I watched myself move through the book faster, getting more enveloped in the story than when I was honing in on the meaning of every word, using the glossary as a way to expand my knowledge on what this world was like, rather than out of a frustrated need to understand.
At the heart of my love of reading, though, is the craft. The act of taking an idea and building it up, weaving patchwork pieces of experiences and encounters, research and inspiration, in order to create a new story. But how do I piece apart and take notice of technique while also trying to simply enjoy the story for what it is? There are many ways, but I will share a couple. And no, there won’t be a quiz at the end.
The read and rant method. It’s nothing new, in fact it’s ancient. When you’re reading a book for pleasure, how often do you stop to savor it? To think about why you’re enjoying it so much (or vice versa)? I usually have at least one friend who’s read the book I’m reading or, if not, I have one person who’s willing to listen to me blather on. After every reading session I send a long voice recording or video message recounting my experience. What I liked, what frustrated me, what left me shocked and aghast, and so on. After that initial unload, however, I then talk about what the author was doing which made me feel those ways. Once you start doing that, all the craft details that the author is using float to the surface. If you don’t have a pal to rant to, a journal or voice memo will do the trick.
Tabbing. It’s a trend, popularized by BookTok, but it’s no different than what you might’ve done in the classroom. Except, this time, you coordinate the tabs however you please, being as intensive or lax, as frivolous or serious. Some tabs can be based on what scenes made you weep the most, other’s which made your heart wrench with joy. For craft, you can assign some for moments of beautiful characterization, of fabulous worldbuilding, of magnificent flow of dialogue. Tab the sections which you might want to refer back to as you work on your own projects. And if you don’t have tabs, don’t be scared to mark up your pages with pens and markers like little tattoos. Interact with the work, and just have fun!
There are so many ways to blend these two modes of reading, and it might take some trial and error to find what works well for you. The end-goal however, is to view the books you read with that same childlike excitement that you did in grade school. Nurture that curiosity and love, and the pages will roll on.
