Lately, I've been grappling with my ability to read, especially long texts. Every sentence feels like a hurdle, and chapters seem endless. Even when I manage to complete a chapter, there’s another waiting right behind it. With most books containing numerous chapters, this can quickly become overwhelming.

I'm not alone in this struggle. Recent surveys indicate that many people, particularly children and teens, are reading less for pleasure than ever before. A study conducted by the National Literacy Trust revealed that over half of young participants do not enjoy reading leisurely, marking the lowest levels of enjoyment since 2005. This decline reflects a broader trend of diminishing engagement with texts.

I genuinely want to rekindle my passion for reading—much like I did in my youth. To me, reading is a deeply rewarding way to connect with stories and acquire knowledge. As a writer and philosophy student, it plays a vital role in my life.

However, I can't help but wonder why reading has become such a challenge. Have we lost the ability to immerse ourselves in texts? If that’s the case, how can we restore the ease of reading?

Interestingly, the answer lies in recognizing the true source of our reading difficulties.

Books as Needles in a Haystack

First off, I don't want to rehash the common argument about shrinking attention spans. That's not the core issue at hand, in my view.

The real challenge is my acute awareness of the multitude of distractions while I'm trying to read. I find myself fixating on how many sentences remain in the paragraph, how many paragraphs are in the chapter, and how many pages are left in the book.

Moreover, I often ponder what else I could be reading instead. While enjoying a lighthearted novel, I might think, “Shouldn’t I be tackling something more intellectually stimulating?” Conversely, when engaged with philosophical texts, I wonder if I should be lost in a captivating narrative instead.

When I confide in others about this dilemma, they often suggest, “You just need to find the right book! Try this one!” Consequently, I used to approach reading as if searching for a needle in a haystack, believing that discovering the perfect book would magically restore my reading ability.

That notion, however, proved to be misguided.

While it's true that different books resonate with different individuals, my attempts to find the "perfect" book often led me back to the original problem—reading felt like a chore. My anxiety only grew as I continuously assessed whether I had found that elusive needle or needed to keep searching.

Unexpectedly, I encountered a perspective that transformed my approach to reading in our digital world.

The Issue of Excessive Choices

Nicholas Carr once remarked, “It’s not information overload. It’s filter success.” This insight reshaped my understanding of my reading challenges. Previously, I believed that the abundance of content was the culprit behind my reading struggles. I thought that great books were hidden among a vast array of irrelevant material, and that I simply needed to sift through them to find the right one.

This assumption was misguided.

Upon reflection, locating a compelling book isn't particularly difficult. With algorithms and social media, our preferences are catered to with alarming accuracy, bringing engaging books to our attention.

Ironically, the issue lies in the fact that we have tools capable of finding those “needles” for us. When these tools perform their function too well, we end up feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed by choice.

The real problem is that there are simply too many remarkable books available—too many needles in the haystack.

Carr describes this phenomenon as the problem of filter success. The efficiency of algorithms in identifying our preferences means that excellent content is perpetually just a click away. While this seems advantageous, it creates stress, as we’re constantly bombarded with captivating material. This barrage makes it increasingly challenging to focus on actually reading a single book in depth.

The pace at which we uncover new content far exceeds our ability to digest it meaningfully. New "needles" are constantly added to the stack faster than we can reduce it.

The Challenge of Navigating Excess

Thus, it’s not just about finding a needle in a haystack; we’re actually faced with haystacks filled with needles.

When I glance at the unread books on my digital shelf, I find them all intriguing. I know I would likely enjoy them. Yet, the pressure to select the "best" one or to find something even better makes it difficult to appreciate any of them. It’s akin to searching for the best needle in a collection of pre-selected needles.

This daunting task leads to a specific type of information overload known as ambient overload.

As Carr notes:

> “We experience ambient overload when we’re surrounded by so much information that is of immediate interest to us that we feel overwhelmed by the never-ending pressure of trying to keep up with it all.”

This perspective made me realize that my reading habits had become akin to scrolling through Netflix or Amazon—where I spend more time searching for the ideal choice than actually consuming anything. I’d get caught up in the decision-making process, often feeling exhausted by the end and second-guessing my choice.

This is the paradox of choice: having more options complicates our decision-making and diminishes satisfaction with our selections.

Carr suggests that we should wish for “filter failure”—hoping that our recommendation systems become less effective so we can escape the stress of having too much great content at our disposal. Unfortunately, this isn’t likely to happen anytime soon; filters will continue to improve, and ambient overload will persist, making meaningful engagement with content increasingly difficult.

However, there are ways to cope with this ambient overload.

A Method for Managing Choices

As I continued to struggle with reading, I began to notice instances where it felt effortless. These moments occurred when I read a physical book, listened to an audiobook, or found a quiet space away from technology, like a park or train.

While these observations may not be groundbreaking, the common theme among these scenarios is their ability to mitigate ambient overload by eliminating the nagging feeling that something more interesting might be just a click away.

In contrast, whenever I found myself in a situation where I could easily access other distractions, my ability to read suffered.

If I were to summarize this as a principle for making reading feel effortless, it would be: to enhance reading enjoyment, minimize the number of ambient stressors.

For instance, if I visit a café with my phone, that phone acts as an additional source of distraction. Even bringing along a second book can create stress, as I might start to overthink which one I should read.

In essence, the best strategy for me has been to leave my house, find a quiet place, and bring only one book, leaving behind all other distractions.

This approach has significantly improved my reading experience. Yet, I still struggle with the urge to engage with all the other books on my shelf—feeling compelled to tackle every single one. This mindset is unsustainable, especially with new books constantly being added to the pile.

Paradoxically, I discovered true relief in my reading experience when I embraced a counterintuitive concept: surrender.

One Needle at a Time

The notion of surrender initially felt foreign. However, I found clarity when I heard Oliver Burkeman elaborate on Carr's idea of "haystack-sized piles of needles":

> “The only way to deal with a too-many-needles problem is to confront the fact that it’s insoluble—that you definitely won’t be fitting everything in.”

In this context, the problem itself serves as the solution. The only meaningful way to navigate an overwhelming collection of books and distractions is to accept that we can’t possibly read everything. It’s about recognizing that the perfect book may not exist and appreciating the wealth of excellent reading material already at our disposal.

While this realization doesn’t diminish the algorithms' influence on our lives, it allows us to adjust our relationship with that overwhelming force.

Interestingly, since adopting this mindset, I haven’t necessarily read significantly more, but I have started reading differently—more effortlessly, with greater focus and enjoyment.

Now, when I’m reminded of the multitude of books I could be reading, I aim to take it one needle at a time. I focus on one word, then one sentence, then one paragraph, and so on.

Of course, reading can still present challenges, and that’s perfectly okay. The key takeaway is to accept that we’ll never be able to read everything we want. With this in mind, we can gently return to the last sentence we left off.

I believe this approach serves as a valuable mantra—not just for reading, but for navigating an increasingly overwhelming world. We may never uncover all the perfect needles, nor will we ever get through them all.

So let’s embrace the journey, one needle at a time.

Thank you for reading. If you found this insightful, you might enjoy my book analyses and other articles on improving your reading experience:

Book Deep Dives & Reading Better [stephanjoppich.medium.com](https://stephanjoppich.medium.com)

This article was originally published on stephanjoppich.com.