The Chronicles of Overcoming a Reading Slump

Ep. 1. Discovering Hope through Magical Realism

I still remember the first time I started reading. I was in the fourth grade. In a new school with a tougher curriculum. My mum had gone to my school for a parent-teacher meeting and it seems that my literature teacher felt that I could do significantly better at the subject. So my mum came home with a heavy bag filled with workbooks to improve my writing skills and a ton of recommended readings to improve my reading and comprehension.

I still remember feeling bitter at first. I did not (and probably still don't) take criticism very well, so I perceived this heap of books as my greatest enemy. I made up my mind to conquer the books and prove to both my mother and teacher that I could, in fact, do well in English. And that is where my journey with reading began.

This school was quite different from all the other ones I had been to up until that point. One literature class every week was dedicated to visiting the school library. During this class, the librarian would stack up all the books appropriate for our reading level and each of us would have to pick one to take home for the week. Before the next class, we were required to read the book and critically review it. Though many dreaded this activity, I actually looked forward to it.

What started as an exercise to prove my worth became one of my most cherished hobbies. By the fifth grade, I was reading books from various genres outside of required school readings and discovering my voice.

In the sixth grade, I declared to my parents that I was a bibliophile; I must buy and own books because borrowing from a library simply didn't cut it any more. The joy of walking through the aisles of a bookstore, finding a title that was begging to be read and bringing it home was unparalleled.

By the time I was in the seventh grade, I was reading at least one or two books a day. As an adult, I still fail to comprehend how I found the time to read so much while still spending the majority of my day at school and then at home finishing schoolwork.

The older I got, though, the amount of time I could spend reading reduced. My English classes were the only things keeping me tethered to literature throughout college. In my final year, when I didn't have an English paper any longer, I more or less stopped reading anything that wasn't going to help with my coursework. Don't get me wrong, I had media and mass communication as one of my majors, which kept me on my feet with introspective non-fiction reads. But I barely read for leisure.

After graduating, though, I found myself having more time on hand, even though I started working full-time. So I decided to get back to reading. But no matter how much I tried, I simply couldn't seem to finish a book I picked up. It did not matter how long the book had been in my TBR or how many times I had reread it in the past.

That's when I realised… I was in a slump. This was a terrifying and debilitating thought. The more I dwelled on it, the more it felt like I had been in one for over five years.

One fine day, while watching Uncarley rank her 2023 reads on YouTube, I felt a title in the list call to me. After many years, something piqued my interest. I felt like I was right back to being 15 years old and in Sapna Book House, staring at a book that was so up my alley that there was no way I was going to walk out without it. This book was Before the coffee gets cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi; seemingly the perfect blend of regret and hope, of realistic, human problems and magic, of a quick and easy yet insightful read.

As my birthday approached, when my sister asked me if there was anything on my TBR, I immediately mentioned this book and she said she'd get it for me. While I waited for the book to arrive, my birthday rolled around.

The day I turned 22, I spent the day at Bangalore's iconic Blossom Book House. I thought I'd pick up one or two books but ended up leaving with eight mostly contemporary titles to read. Though I spent a boatload of money, I felt more content than I had in years.

As I started reading Before the coffee gets cold, I found myself beating the slump. The book was simply one I could not put down. An epiphany dawned upon me — I loved reading books that addressed important themes — be it feminism, poverty, climate change, loss and grief, or the dire state of the media. Which is great, honestly! Because, this way, I was indulging in a hobby while also expanding the horizons of my knowledge. Yet, somewhere down the line, I found myself reading really heavy books—one after the other. These books left me feeling hopeless; like there was nothing we could do to make things better. And sitting with that feeling was making me miserable.

I needed to break the monotony. I needed to go back to books that showed me that there is a way out, that there is light at the end of the tunnel. And Before the coffee gets cold is just that. It tackles memories and grief and losing loved ones. But it also reminds us that life goes on. It shows us that there is a way to cherish the important moments in life while still moving forward and hoping for the best.

I'm not saying that it's the best piece of literature to exist. I'm fairly certain that there are much better books out there. But this book was there at the right place, at the right time. It will always hold a special place in my heart for helping me fall in love with reading once again.

Am I going to continue reading regularly after this? There's no telling. But that's why I want to document this journey of rediscovering my love for reading. So the next time I fall off the reading wagon (which I most certainly will) I have reminders on how to get back, but more importantly I have reminders to not be so hard on myself.