Every September, National Read a Book Day comes around as a quiet reminder to step away from screens and sink into the stillness of a story. It is more than just a calendar date for book lovers. It is an invitation to remember why reading has always mattered and why it matters now more than ever.
In a fast-paced world where news cycles refresh by the second and social media rewards instant reactions, reading asks us to do the opposite: slow down. It requires patience. To read is to surrender: to sit with another person’s words long enough for them to settle inside us.
When I think about my relationship with books, I am taken back to the corners where reading shaped me: a quiet chair in my childhood home, afternoons stolen in libraries, even cramped bus rides where I balanced a paperback in one hand and the world in the other.
Reading is not only personal; it’s deeply communal. When we share books, we share worlds. A single recommendation from a friend can change how we think, what we value, or the course of our lives. Books allow us to speak across generations, to sit with the wisdom of those who lived centuries before us, or to glimpse the dreams of those who imagine the centuries ahead, showing us possibilities beyond the boundaries of our own lives. In that way, reading is one of the greatest connectors we have.
It is not lost on me that reading is increasingly competing for survival. We are distracted not just by the glow of our devices, but by the sheer speed of life. It can feel indulgent, even irresponsible, to spend an afternoon buried in a book when emails, tasks, and notifications pile up. But perhaps that is the reason National Read a Book Day matters: it carves out permission. It reminds us that when turning pages, we are not wasting time; we are reclaiming it.
The truth is, books don’t just entertain us: they form us. They teach empathy by allowing us to live inside other lives. They sharpen our thinking, challenge our assumptions, and sometimes hold a mirror up to the parts of ourselves we’d rather not see. At best, books don’t just pass the time; they stretch it.
Today, pick up a book if you can. It does not have to be a classic or the latest bestseller. It could be a story you have read before, a book of poetry, or even a slim novel that fits in your pocket. What matters is the intentionality of slowing down, allowing words to leave an impression and do the quiet work. Because long after the headlines fade and the algorithms shift, books remain. They are the anchors we return to, the companions that wait patiently for us to rediscover them, the voices that remind us of who we are and who we might yet become.
Reading is not a luxury. It is a way of living more deeply, attentively, and humanly. And in times like these, that might be the most necessary thing.
