I have always been a bookworm. In junior high and high school, I would read at least a book a day (if not more). It wasn’t seen as cool then. But I loved reading more than almost anything else. In college, I worked as a book editor and book reviewer, and I was an English literature major. So I read multiple books every day.  The only time during my life when I haven’t read books voraciously was during law school. (Then I watched tv instead.) I needed lighthearted tv shows as an escape then.

During my first few years practicing law, I discovered audiobooks on my long commutes and fell in love with nonfiction. I didn’t read as much then as I had before or do now, but I still found great enjoyment in reading. And in the past two years, I’ve been able to read/listen to many many books—returning to that old voracious reader I once was.

I always loved tracking what I read, what I wanted to read, and setting goals for what I would read next year. Not as a way to brag, but simply because I loved books. I loved reading my thoughts about what books I’d read, reminding myself of what I read that year. And I loved seeing the collage of the book covers of what I’d read that year.

Until recently, almost none of my “in real life” friends even knew of my Goodreads account. So the goals, the tracking, the reviews—nobody I actually knew ever saw it. But I’ve noticed in recent years, a lot of my friends have posted their “years in books.” (This may be because of algorithms, or because I’m inclined to find other bookish people.) But what I noticed most of all was the constant theme of comments or posts saying “I’m ashamed I didn’t read more.” Or “I was only able to read ___ books.” Or “I thought I read a lot until I saw what you read.”

Suddenly, in my small corner, books read seems to be another metric to determine worth or see how you measure up. My Goodreads tells me I read 350 books this year, 103,247 pages, with the shortest book being 24 pages, the longest being 784, with an average of 297 pages per book. It also tells me that my average rating was 3.4 stars.

And yet those stats don’t account for the books that changed me as a person, nights spent staying up too late, mornings spent wrapped up in a blanket as I discovered new worlds, went on quests of adventure, fell in love, learned and embraced different viewpoints and discoveries. Some of those books were forgettable and not memorable, but some changed me. The beauty in reading isn’t in the stats or number of books/pages read. It’s always been in the beauty of the pages, in transformation, and in wonder. So whether you read one book or one hundred, I hope you found joy in your reading, and know that no matter how much or how little you read, the numbers don’t really matter.

I also hope you know that whether you read or listened while doing the dishes or exercising—it all counts. Find joy in the act of reading, not in the number of books read. This next year, I plan to read fewer books than I did this year and to focus on other hobbies a bit more, but I have no doubt I’ll find just as much joy in reading as I did this year. Measure the value of books not in the number rea, but in the amount of joy and wonder and transformation that comes.

Photo by laura Kapfer via Unsplash license