Reading rules!

Reading has been one of the great pleasures of my life. It has taken me to places I've never visited, introduced me to people I would otherwise avoid, and allowed me to witness events that happened centuries before or after I was born. All without leaving my favourite chair.

And it's remarkably cheap. For the price of a paperback, you can acquire the accumulated wisdom of someone who has spent 30 years studying a subject. For nothing at all, courtesy of the public library, you can enjoy a masterpiece. Admittedly, you can also borrow a dreadful book, but at least you can return it without asking for a refund.

Books are extraordinary things. They allow us into the private thoughts of strangers, the minds of geniuses, and occasionally the heads of people who should probably have been locked up. They can make us laugh, cry, think, or wonder why on earth anyone bothered writing them.

A few years ago, I found myself reading less. Life was busy, distractions multiplied, and my telephone had developed the irritating habit of demanding attention every few minutes. Apparently, somewhere in the world, somebody had expressed an opinion about something. Worse, somebody else had disagreed.

Naturally, I had to know.

Then I remembered that books don't beep.

So I returned to reading, and discovered something I'd almost forgotten.

Unlike social media, which helpfully decides what I ought to be interested in, a book allows me to choose my own intellectual adventures. I can disagree with the author without being called an idiot by a complete stranger in Queensland.

I've also developed a few reading habits, although I'd hesitate to call them rules. Rules have a nasty tendency to attract people who enjoy enforcing them.

For example, I write in books. I underline passages, scribble observations in margins and occasionally place an exclamation mark beside something particularly clever. This horrifies certain people, who believe books should be treated with the reverence normally reserved for religious relics.

I regard books as companions, not museum exhibits.

Another habit is abandoning books I don't enjoy. For years I struggled through dreadful novels because I'd started them and felt obliged to finish. This is rather like insisting on eating an entire bad meal because you've already swallowed the entrée.

Life is too short, and the library too well stocked.

I also recommend lending books to friends, although this requires accepting that some friendships may outlast the loan. Somewhere in Australia, a small collection of my favourite books is enjoying a new life with people who have forgotten where they came from.

And don't believe everything you read. Particularly those books promising to transform your life in seven easy steps. I remain suspicious of anyone who has discovered the secret of happiness and immediately negotiated a publishing contract.

Read widely, read critically, and occasionally read something completely outside your interests. You might discover that you're wrong about something. I've found this happens more frequently than I care to admit.

Above all, reading should be enjoyable, not another obligation on an already crowded calendar.

There are no prizes for finishing the most books, no penalties for abandoning one, and no requirement to understand every word of Ulysses.

I certainly don't.

My final reading rule is therefore wonderfully simple.

When in doubt, read.

Unless you're driving.

Find a good book

Lifeline's Big Book Fair is back, with over 80,000 books pre-loved books on sale over four days, from 22-25 October 2026 at the Illawarra Sports & Community Precinct, Berkeley.