[See TLDRR for a quick summary of this article.]

A decade ago, I wrote an article titled “Why Can’t We Read Anymore?” chronicling my struggle to read books in an age of digital distraction. “Why can’t we read” was the most popular article on Medium back in May of 2015, and to this day continues to get thousands of reads a month. Clearly the challenge of reading in an age of digital distraction resonates with many people 10 years later.

It resonates still with me.

Ten Years after ‘Why Can’t We Read Any More?’

The four-year-old daughter who gently put her hands on my cheeks, pulled my eyes away from my phone, and said: “Look at me, when I’m talking to you,” is now 14.

A decade later, I have tried many things to help me read more, to put down my phone and listen when people talk to me. Some of it worked. Much of it didn’t.

I think I have cracked the code for reading fiction books. It’s working for me. Nonfiction books, however, have fallen prey, for better or worse, to long-form podcasts and AI summaries.

I don’t know what to think about that.

How I reclaimed fiction

Reading books again has been a decade-long battle. The siren call of the digital hit of new information is as powerful as ever.

But, I have made much progress in reducing my phone mania. For those looking for advice, such as I can offer, here is my cheat sheet:

1. Social media is the worst (#1 for a reason). Get off all social media, and delete all social apps. Yes, Reddit counts.

2. Spend real time with people. Implement a strict no-device rule at any meal or social event with more than one person.

3. Early to bed, early to read, Go to bed early (if I want to read for 30 minutes, I need to be in bed with my book an hour before lights out).

4. Drop the Brick on it. Use Brick, a device/app that shuts down everything on your phone except ebook reading and audiobooks. NOTE: this isn’t a paid placement, just the writing of a relieved & renewed reader. You could also try Freedom.

5. Disconnect once a year. Aggressively unplug for at least a couple of weeks of the year, ideally in nature, and read only paper books.

All of these steps have been huge improvements in my life.

A confession

But I confess, and only to you, that it took almost 10 years and the Brick to finally, finally restore consistent fiction reading to my life. If you are not familiar with The Brick, it’s a little magnetic block that you stick on a metal surface like your fridge. There’s a companion app that locks down everything on your phone except for the apps you want (for me: Kindle). To block access you tap your phone on the brick. To get access to your phone again, you need to tap your phone to the physical device again. In my case, that means getting out of bed, and going downstairs to the kitchen, and tapping my phone to the Brick.

I’ve crept downstairs at midnight to do the deed only a couple of times. It’s an iPhone addict’s version of the walk of shame.

Reading again

The Brick is draconian enough that I really do read fiction at night. Almost every night. Among other things, my sleep has improved dramatically. I’ve increased average sleep by an hour, from six-and-a-half to seven-and-a-half hours.

Even better is that feeling of immersion in a new world, when I realize I’ve been reading a novel for a full 60 minutes.

Fiction I have solved. Nonfiction is another matter.

The first time I listened to an hour-long podcast about quantum physics – I think it was Sean Carroll interviewing Carlo Rovelli – it was a revelation. In that podcast conversation, I understood more than I had by reading multiple nonfiction books on the topic, some by Carlo Rovelli.

I tell you this not to demonstrate how smart I am for trying to learn about quantum physics (well, maybe a little), but rather to make clear that the podcast universe is not just Joe Rogan (though: try this)

The number of long-form podcasts out there, that put thoughtful people together to dig, deeply, into specific areas of expertise is astounding. I listen to podcasts on history, Canadian energy security, irregular warfare, China, financial markets, music, geopolitics, Middle East conflicts, cosmology, macroeconomics, comedy writing, and more. The depth and breadth of what is available in the podcast universe is something beautiful to behold.

If books were once the centre of my deep, fact-based world, podcasts seem to have taken over.

Why read the book, when you can listen to a long, intimate conversation with the author? (There are perfectly good answers to this question, by the way, but I, almost always, prefer the conversations).

And then there is AI

Back in that 2015 article, I quoted Werner Herzog:

Those who read own the world, and those who watch television lose it.

I still love this quote, and there is no one I know of in the world who seems to live this quote more intensely than Tyler Cowen.

Cowen is an economist at George Mason University, and famously one of the most well-read people on the planet. He reads, reportedly, five-to-ten books a day.

Five-to-ten books.

He also hosts one of the most thoughtful podcasts around: Conversations with Tyler, where his erudition and curiosity intersects with his guests on an incredible range of topics. I have listened to countless hours of Tyler Cowen discussing topics from rock 'n' roll to Stalin; neurosurgery to genetics; monetary policy to military innovation, with brilliant authors. I have yet to read a book, as far as I know, by one of his interviewees. (I am however currently reading a novel he recommended).

Cowen swaps books for AI

I was floored recently listening to Cowen interviewing venture capitalist Chris Dixon about Blockchains, AI, and the Future of the Internet.

Here is what the greatest reader of books I know of said:

I read fewer books also. It’s not just media sites. Why read a book when you can ask Claude or ChatGPT for a 10-page printed report on the history of Edward III?

If Tyler Cowen says this about books, what chance do I have?

TLDRR

In many ways we made TLDRR for this reason, to help extract the most important ideas and quotes from long content. In the last couple of years I’ve dumped countless documents and articles into GPT, NotebookLM, Claude and dedicated summarizer tools, in an effort to understand the basics before deciding to dig in. It was cumbersome and never quite right. tldrr gives me they key info and keeps my docs in one queryable place.

Sometimes all I want, or need, or am willing to commit to, is the key information contained in an article, or chapter. I want the signal and the core. I don’t/can’t or won’t read the whole thing.

I’m reminded of designer Frank Chimero, years ago, talking about digital versus print books, who said: “I want to see things earn the privilege to be objects.” Meaning, more or less, that not all books are created equal, and not all of them need to printed on physical pages.

Similarly, perhaps I want nonfiction to earn the privilege to be read in full, rather than in summary?

Two decades of the social web

Wikipedia arrived in  2003, and in 2004 I listened to my first podcast, Brewster Kahle’s talk on the Conversation Network, Universal Access to All Human Knowledge. Facebook arrived that same year, which was also the year I started reading and writing blogs. By  2008, I was on Twitter, first on an iPod touch, later an iPhone.

It took me ten years to realize how addictive and corrosive some of these wonderful platforms could be, and another decade to tame and prune my information consumption, to maximize my engagement with what matters to me, and minimize Twitter (now, X) outrage, cat videos and doomscrolling. It’s an ongoing learning process. We’re all still, at best, early adults with this technology.

In two decades, the way I, and we engage with information – long form, short form, fact, story and fantasy – has shifted astronomically.

Now AI has arrived, unevenly distributed, and everything will change again. We can expect chaos and wonder. We will lose things and gain things.

What will I say in 2035?

I will check back with you in 2035.

My first hope is that my 24-year-old daughter won’t need to cup my face and tell me to listen to her while she is speaking–nor I hers. If things go well, I hope to report that I still get lost in the universes of fiction books; that I still spend hours listening to intelligent people talk about deep ideas; that AI helps me untangle dense and complicated ideas; and that once in a while, I have the privilege of holding a truly great nonfiction book in my hands.

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(PS, Try TLDRR & let me know what you think.)