Let the Book Go
And don't blame your attention span
A few weeks ago, I had a discussion with some friends on whether the fact that many of us seem no longer able to sit through an entire movie, or finish reading a book is problematic.
Most argued that the issue had to do with social media apps like Instagram and TikTok causing irreversible damage to our attention spans (the broader context of the conversation was on whether cell phones should be banned from schools). In their view, individuals and their brains get so used to short-form content that they become unable to stick to something that requires a more disciplined attention.
Although I believe that social media has played a key role in the rise of this phenomenon, I think it is mistaken to hold that its role has been a damaging one. Instead, I believe exposure to short-form content has opened many people’s eyes to the many alternative ways in which they could productively use their time (and contrary to popular belief, their creativity).
That said, I do not intend this blog to become a defense of social media apps. All I wish to do is present an argument as to why it is not only acceptable, but perhaps even desireable, to not always finish the books we start reading.
Why do we read?
A good first question to ask is why we read.
Whenever we pick a book at the library, a bookstore, or a friend’s bookshelf, there is always a reason behind our choice. Maybe the cover looked pretty, the title was catchy, or perhaps it was recommended by a love interest. It could also be that we recognize our favorite artist as the author, or the topic is one that seems intriguing.
Whatever caused our choices, we can generalize them into one all-encompassing reason: We choose books and start reading them because we guess that they will solve some problem for us.
Why buy a pretty book? Because it will look good on your coffee table. Why read a popsci book? Because maybe (and just maybe) the author will actually help you understand some complex scientific topic. Why open that old copy of Meditations that has been on your shelf since freshman year? Because some finance bro on a podcast told you that book changed his outlook of life - and who knows? He could have a point.
Of course, what problem is exactly solved is not always explicitly clear to us. Sometimes we choose books based on some intuition, a vibe. Nevertheless, whether explicit or not, there is always a reason - no one just mindlessly walks to a bookstore, stochastically gets a book, and proceeds to read it without ever taking a guess as to what the book would offer.
Why do people stop reading?
The second question to ask is what causes people to stop reading.
Given that we get books with the hope that they will solve some problem we have (whether explicitly or implicitly); naturally, we will stop reading them when one of the following things happens:
The book solves the problem we had
It becomes clear that the book will not solve the problem we had
The first scenario is perfectly illustrated by cases in which we check out a book from the library to exclusively read one chapter that is relevant to the research paper we are writing. For example, a few weeks ago, I got the Many Worlds? book in order to read the essay Chance in the Everett Interpretation by Simon Saunders. Once I finished reading the book, I did not bother looking at the other 19 chapters, for I had no problem that I thought could be solved by doing so (note that being bored can also be considered a problem).
The second reason why people stop reading books is because they arrive at the conclusion that the book will not offer them what they wanted. For instance, back in February, I started reading Imre Lakatos’ book Proofs and Refutations, in which he argues that even knowledge in mathematics is conjectural. I started reading it because I thought Lakatos would defend his thesis by pointing out that the process of proving mathematical statements is always physical - meaning their reliability depends on whether we know what the actual laws of physics are. However, after reading several chapters, I came to the conclusion that his arguments for the fallibility of mathematical knowledge primarily revolved around pointing out that proofs might contain previously unoticed assumptions or gaps, which put their reliability into question. Although the dialogues and examples Lakatos presented in the book were fascinating, I was not particularly interested in that line of argument - so I stopped reading, and have not opened the book since.
Can addictions to short-form content prevent us from finishing books?
If people stop reading books because their problems have been solved, or because it appears that the book in question won’t solve the issue it was meant to solve, it seems to follow that abandoning books is unproblematic.
Critics, however, will argue that there is one more reason why people leave books unfinished: addictions to short-form content.
Fortunately, there is no such thing as becoming addicted to short-form content.
I am not denying that addictions are real: one can very tangibly become addicted to substances like alcohol. Addictions like this happen via chemical processes in which the body develops a higher tolerance for a particular substance, requiring higher doses in order to enjoy the same subjective experience. This, in turn, causes the brain to get adapted to functioning in the presence of the substance - which is why severe withdrawal symptoms are experienced when consumption is lowered or cut.
That said, when it comes to short-form content, there is no directly analogous chemical process. Yes, the joy one experiences from scrolling through Instagram Reels comes through the chemical release of dopamine; however, there is no difference between the dopamine released while watching TikToks and the dopamine released when hanging out with friends. All dopamine molecules are the same - so if one can become ‘addicted’ to dopamine via TikToks, one can also become ‘addicted’ to dopamine via reading feminist literature, listening to music, talking to loved ones, and enjoying a day with good weather.
To this, critics reply by saying that addictions to short-form content might not be chemical addictions, but they are behavioral addictions. Behavioral addictions are of the form:
Individual performs Action A
Action A releases dopamine
Individual associates Action A with the pleasurable release of dopamine
Individual repeats Action A to get the same pleasure
When individual stops Action A, the lack of pleasure makes them irritable
Phrased this way, it seems to be the case that watching TikToks can be legitimately considered an addiction. However, upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that such a diagnosis is mistaken. The crucial point to understand is that Action A is not the only thing that can lead to the release of dopamine; hence, the individual’s ‘addiction’ can be addressed by performing some Action B that equally satisfies the individual’s need for pleasure. In other words, individuals become irritable not because they cannot carry out Action A, but because they have no action that gives them the pleasure they seek. Thus, if avoiding irritability does not depend on Action A, it follows that one is not really addicted to Action A.
Let us move on to the question of whether short-form content can prevent us from finishing books: the short answer is yes. However, it is not because short-form content has rewired our brain into craving short-term pleasure. Instead, the reason lies on the fact that through short-form content, we have become increasingly aware that it is possible to be entertained without having to endure intermediate periods of boredom.
For instance, scrolling through Instagram Reels has made us aware that it is possible to experience a novel and captivating story in less than 15 seconds. So, whenever we read a book filled with unentertaining portions, we become increasingly aware of its defficiencies and quickly lose interest - thereby leading us to close it and never open it again.
Letting the Book Go
Skeptics will of course argue that abandoning books because they have unentertaining portions is a big disservice to ourselves, for it will prevent us from experiencing masterpieces that require us to have a discplined attention span. Additionally, they will argue that the very act of developing a disciplined attention span by sticking to books we have started reading is also important.
I must disagree with such a view.
There is nothing noble about coercing ourselves to finish books we are not enjoying - even if others tell us that it is worth going through the boring passages to experience the brilliance of the work in its totality. There is no secret insight that is available only to those who read all the works of Shakespeare, or the entire Harry Potter series. Of course, these works are an important part of the history of ideas and of popular culture; however, if one finds their style unappealing, there are more interesting and time-efficient ways to learn and enjoy what they have to offer.
Morever, there will always be good books that manage to fully capture your attention at every turn, capable of keeping you glued from start to finish. Additionally, as time passes, and new life experiences are collected, books that previously seemed boring might come back to be appreciated under a new light. The important thing to remember is that at any given time, we have different problem-situations - hence, it is of no use to force a book on ourselves when there is no problem that we believe could be solved by it… it would be a disservice to ourselves (and the book!) to do so. Instead, one ought to wait until the time is right, and focus on those books that do address our current interests.
To the argument stating that developing a disciplined attention span and learning to be bored are important skills that one ought to master in life, I must reply with a similar line of argument: there is nothing intrinsically valuable about being ok with feeling bored. They are mere tools to help us overcome moments in life where the boredom is inevitable. This does not mean that we ought to subject ourselves to books or movies that we find unappealing in order to ‘discipline’ ourselves; instead, it is a skill that must organically arise when our problem-situation requires it. As mentioned above: there is nothing noble about making yourself suffer without need. As stated in the book of Matthew: “Each day has enough trouble of its own”.
In conclusion, short-term content and attention spans are never to blame for our inability to finish a book. If the book (or movie, or any piece of media) in question adequately embodies knowledge about our current problem-situation, then no amounts of TikTok will be able to keep us from finishing it. We owe it to ourselves (and to the books!) to take into account our own interests and how compatible they are with whatever it is that the book has to offer when making the choice of whether to keep reading.