I’ve always been a bit of a slow reader. Maybe it’s the writer in me constantly studying language and noting the way it makes me feel as my fingers trace every line, my eyes scan every letter. While my peers seemed to race to the end of each book as if it were a finish line, I often came in last, taking my time to pause and reflect and luxuriate in the language. For a while, reading felt like a race I couldn’t, and didn’t want to, win.
Then the rise of social media (particularly bookstagram) only made that feeling worse. I couldn’t fathom how people read three or more books a week, while I had a full-time job, relationships I nurtured, and many other hobbies. It certainly is possible, but I often wondered if they were appreciating, thinking about, or enjoying each book enough before moving on to the next. Clicks and content seemed to be a motivating factor. Meanwhile, I was devastated when my favorite books ended, and would purposefully slow down towards the last 50 pages to savor them longer. Once, after finishing a book I loved so dearly (1Q84 by Haruki Murakami), I didn’t start another book for two weeks, my daydreams still cemented in that world I didn’t wish to leave, my mind lingering on every character.
For the past few months, I’ve been slowly reading The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, which is about 700 pages long. She has always fascinated me. As a fellow author, poet, and diarist, I’ve felt the need to study her even closer. Reading another writer’s diary has been both entertaining and eye-opening. It has also been heartbreaking, reading firsthand how much she struggled with her self-worth and mental health, knowing very well how her short life ends.1
There are so many gems in her journals about her writing process, thoughts on success and fame, and what makes a writer Good versus Great. It’s also so clear that she was tremendously hard on herself, which is relatable, I think, to most writers, myself included. It’s been such an oddly comforting read, and I can’t imagine racing through it—there are just so many pieces of knowledge in here that I’ve sat with, reflected on, and journaled about.
So, about 30 pages in, I realized I couldn’t just read this book; I had to annotate my thoughts along the way—something I haven’t really done since my college days.
Reading slowly and noticing everything is an art. It is a ritual of remaining present and preserving a memory. Adding notes to margins, highlighting your favorite passages, underlining phrases that stood out to you lyrically—all of it is a way of tattooing yourself in the journey, marking a moment in time. I used to hate annotating my books; I wanted them to stay “perfect” and thought I was “ruining” them. Now, I know that isn’t true. By reading slowly and annotating my thoughts as I go, I’m having a conversation with an author who has long since passed. I’m documenting my thoughts like I would in a diary. I’m leaving a piece of myself behind for whoever will get or borrow this book after me.
Isn’t that why we write—anywhere? To leave a piece of ourselves behind? I think I’ll make a habit out of annotating my paperback books once again. I know they’ll be an invaluable thing to look back on.
Do you annotate your books? Why or why not? I’d love to know, so leave a comment below.
- Plath famously committed suicide at age 30, after attempting it at age 20 and again at 29. Her published journals cover the first attempt, but the journals near the end of her life were destroyed. ↩︎
I use clear Post-it notes to annotate in my books, and pen plenty of them (as well safe-keep my favourite quotes) in my book journal. It definitely helps to cement a book and its ideas in my mind!
Post-it notes are the best! And I save my fave quotes in my commonplace book too 🙂 So helpful when looking back at a glance!