Whatif… Reading is easier than we think it is?

I recently launched an endeavor where I invite people to join a “book club”, and I keep hearing some familiar responses.

“I just don’t have time to read a full book.”

“I can’t commit to the time required to read right now.”

“I’m afraid I’ll get off track from my reading and won’t be able to keep up with the group.”

“I have too many other things going to to find time to read.”

I don’t actually think these responses are about reading itself—they’re about what we assume reading requires.

Let me acknowledge that time constraints are real. I am not at all suggesting that any of these people are telling me something untrue. I should acknowledge that I, myself, have also said these things a time or two (or more).

So where did this idea come from? Why has reading developed a reputation for being “time consuming” and perpetually second in priority to everything else?

For centuries, reading was a primary way people spent their time. We can picture Elizabeth Bennet reading in her spare moments between walks and social obligations. At the same time, our educational experiences have taught us something very specific: that reading means starting at page one, proceeding linearly, memorizing key ideas, and finishing the book to prove our competence.

These two traditions (reading as leisure and reading as obligation) both quietly reinforce the same assumption: that reading must be linear, immersive, and time-intensive to “count.”

To be fair, reading does require some focus, presence, and intention. And the modern alternatives (scrolling social media and binge-watching tv) require very little. We all know once those habits start, they are hard to stop. Those bots and algorithms are so successful at allowing the strength of our cognition to whither.

All of this makes reading feel harder than it actually is.

And yet, reading (books and articles!) still matters. In a moment when many of us are questioning the value of our educational and organizational structures, at the very least we should be engaging with ideas that are thoughtful, vetted, and grounded in something real.

Which leads me to the question I keep coming back to:

Whatif… reading is easier than we make it out to be?

Let’s use a framework to explore this idea.

Mortimer Adler is well-known for his 4 levels of reading (Shane Parrish has a great overview here).

Most of us quietly assume that “real reading” means reading at the deepest level—and anything less doesn’t count.

• Level 1 - Elementary (Absorbing words for basic understanding - like when you first learned to read)

• Level 2 - Inspectional ( A quick skim. This can mean systematic skimming like reading the table of contents or simply speed reading or skimming the book).

• Level 3 - Analytical (Understanding a book. Be able to classify the type of book and make a general argument about what the primary purpose of the book is).

• Level 4 - Syntopical (Reading to master. This includes deep engagement with the text. Strategic highlighting, posing and answering questions, translating into your own words and ideas).

I do believe the gold standard of reading is deeply engaging with a text. And I also believe that it’s unlikely most of us are ready to commit to that regularly. (How we could create space in our lives to do that is a topic for another post!)

What Adler recognized, and what we often forget, is that there are many legitimate ways to read. And he was writing before audiobooks, podcasts, and long-form interviews became commonplace. You can still learn something meaningful by listening to an author talk about how an idea emerged, by skimming a table of contents, or by reading just a few chapters that truly resonate.

If reading, at its core, is exposure to ideas that stretch our thinking, then not every book requires level three or four reading. Sometimes, that simply isn’t the point.

This is exactly why I created the Whatif… We Read? book club.

The goal isn’t to read for a comprehensive exam. It’s to collectively expand our thinking. You can read a bit, listen a bit, watch an interview, and still show up with something to contribute. Curiosity matters far more than completion. Showing up with questions is better for everyone than showing up to prove you “did the reading.”

This isn’t an English class. It isn’t a writing seminar or professional certification prep. It’s just me wanting to learn some things by connecting with other people who are also curious.

So as we move into a new year—one where many of us may feel the pressure to find some magical, Narnia-like space to hide away and read (oh, how lovely that would be)—I want to offer a gentler invitation.

Read just a bit.

Read for curiosity.

Read to contribute respectfully to a dialogue.

Read to collectively improve our understanding.

Whatif… We Read?