The Paradox of Reading: We’re Buying More Books, But Reading Less

We’re Reading Less — But Buying More Books

That paradox says something about our times.

According to the National Endowment for the Arts, fewer than half of U.S. adults read a single book last year. Time-use studies show that Americans spend 40% less time reading for pleasure than they did two decades ago.

And yet… book sales are rising. Millions of copies are purchased every year.

So what’s happening? We’re collecting books faster than we’re consuming them. Owning a book has become a statement, but reading one proves to be a discipline.

A Confession from a Lifelong Reader

First, let me confess my own sins. I, too, have a collection of unread books, both physical and digital. And, my stack of physical books has dwindled over time, mostly because I ran out of shelf space.

Lately, though, I’m feeling the nudge to make more space, because I know the value of the printed word. That’s why I keep writing them. But I must also return to buying them more frequently. Most of the physical books I purchased lately are from authors I know, or whose autograph I have. But, books have always been my companions, my teachers, and my mirrors.

Why I Keep Returning to Physical Books

When I sit with a printed book, my attention stretches. There is no multitasking. My hands and mind are immersed in the pages. I settle in, ready to highlight or let my mind drift deeper inward.

In a world that moves fast and demands constant response, reading has become an embodied pause. It calms me with anticipation. Research links leisure reading to lower stress and greater empathy, but I experience it as harmony, a quiet return to balance.

And maybe most of all, physical books stay with me. They line my shelves, travel in my suitcase, gather my handwritten notes, and remind me where I’ve been. In a life filled with work, travel, and the next workout always in sight, the permanence of a book anchors me. Each one holds a moment I can revisit, mark, or pass along.

Even the ritual itself feels sacred — the choosing, the purchase, the moment of cracking open a spine like a bottle of fine wine. Reading becomes a practice of mastery of self, of patience, of depth.

Why I Still Write

Despite all this value, the research remains clear: fewer people are reading books for pleasure, and those who do aren’t reading as often as they once did. Some reasons are obvious; the average attention span is shrinking, and quiet time has become a luxury.

Still, I write.

I write alongside millions of authors who offer connection. We want to capture your heart, not just your attention, because reading is not only about consuming words. It’s about experiencing them.

A book is one of the last places where attention is still sacred. It asks something of you — time, curiosity, openness. And in return, it gives something back — clarity, peace, imagination.

So even as fewer people make time to read, I keep writing for those who still crave depth over speed, and meaning over noise. I write for the reader who wants to sit still long enough to feel something real again.

Turning Pages — and Lives

I recently published my seventh book, Seven Exits: Leave Behind What No Longer Serves You. And you can be sure there will be an eighth. Each book I write is an invitation to turn the pages, not just of a story, but to turn the pages of your own life.

Because the value of a book has never been in the ink or paper. It’s in the courage of the reader to sit still long enough to change.

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