Setting intentional reading goals
Every year I set myself one reading goal: to read 52 books in the year. This is usually an achievable goal, but in 2021 I fell short by just 5 books. I didn’t feel unaccomplished for not reaching my goal — the number was arbitrary and one that I set each year regardless of how much free time I expect to have that year. It inspired some reflection however on whether I should even bother with setting a reading goal in 2022, what impact having a goal actually has on my reading, and whether my reading goals should go beyond numerical factors to include more genre, diversity or length-based goals.
The discussion about the effects of reading goals (both positive and negative) is not a recent phenomenon. Booktubers, bloggers, and readers have been talking about the utility of reading goals in all their forms for years. Yet every year, Goodreads asks me to set a reading goal and I abandon my resolve to not set one and participate in quantifiable reading.
The case against reading goals
Unless you work in publishing (or law), reading is generally a pleasure and leisure activity. Like other leisure activities, it shouldn’t necessarily be bound with expectations to complete minimum amounts of reading per time period or to read beyond what you fancy at the moment you browse the shelf for your next read. To specify parameters for reading such as how much and what kind you should read pivots reading from a leisure activity into work or a chore.
Perhaps the most commonly made point about reading goals builds upon the former in that setting goals gamifies reading. I accept that gamifying things you do can be motivating and can enhance how much you enjoy it (more about this later), but as Leena Norms noted in her recent video on reading goals, it reeks of capitalist ideology. Leena distinguished between stretch goals and manage goals where the difference between these types of goals is almost quantity vs quality:
Manage goals
The antithesis to stretch goals, these goals are focused on adapting current capabilities to meet other objectives. That is, if I can already read at least 40 books per year , instead of setting a goal to read 20% more each year, I can focus instead on those 40 books including longer books, or more queer or BIPOC authors, more own voices books, etc. In business terminology, it is activating ‘the assets we already have’.
Stretch goals
These goals exceed existing capabilities and performance, and such high expectations consequently require working harder and with more novelty. Research by Harvard Business Review found that setting stretch goals is common, but achieving these goals is not. It embodies the capitalist ideology of exponential growth, which in the context of reading is not possible as time is finite and much of our time is consumed in other capitalist pursuits (the joy of work!).
The pressure of a reading goal that is time-sensitive (new year, new expectations to read like it’s my job), encourages the deadline effect. Whether we procrastinate and put off a task, or simply have fallen behind due to other pressures in life, as the year comes to a close, many of us feel pressure to tie up the loose ends of our goals. December is always a busy month for me in reading, not only because it’s the first real break from law school and work, but also because of law school and work I have so much reading to do to complete my goal. I am sure that I’m not alone when at this time of year I more frequently pick up shorter books, whether consciously or not, or read just for the sake of reading and not for pure enjoyment.
There is also a connection between reading goals and productivity. Messaging about CEOs who read at least 30 books a year or read a book a week (or celebrities and business moguls who start their day at 4am and workout everyday) helps us to conflate success with increased amounts of tasks of a certain nature (wellness culture is guilty on this one). If you follow this and achieve cookie-cutter “success”, it isn’t going to guarantee happiness and fulfilment. Writing about the deadline effect, Rachel Syme refers to this practice as ‘time voyeurism’ — and for readers, the voyeurism is there in the Goodreads feature which lets you see your own reading goal/challenge against those of your friends, creating a sense of competition if only in your own mind.
Syme refers to Jenny Odell’s 2019 book How to do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy which is an exploration of the mechanisms which keep us on the hamster wheel of productivity. (NB: I read this in 2021 and while I think the concept is important, I found the book inaccessible with incredibly unnecessary academic language) The main takeaway is that arbitrary goals and deadlines and time voyeurism may be blinkering us from redefining our own measures of success and broader potential. My interpretation of Odell’s argument in the context of reading is to be guided less by external expectations and to be more intentional about reading, and more critical of what influences how you think about or measure reading.
The case for reading goals
Despite my awareness of everything mentioned above, I set my same reading goal in 2022 to read 52 books. When I look back on my previous years of reading, most years have exceeded this number, with only a few years which fell below — usually attributed to busy years at university, poor mental health, and global pandemics.
The main argument for continuing to set reading goals is motivation. I love reading, but it is too easy to fall into a cycle of endless doomscrolling, or binging a tv show that I’m half-heartedly watching. Having a reading goal reminds me that I might spend my time more intentionally by turning my phone onto do not disturb and curling up on the couch with a book. Particularly as reading is a disconnected activity, reading brings me a moment of undisturbed peace and timeout from the internet and screens — a necessity after 2 years of WFH and Zoom University.
But intentionality is also positive of goal setting. Of course, setting unrealistic stretch goals can lead to failure and negative feelings about yourself, but setting a goal after reflection, assessment of your capabilities and resources, and interrogating what you really what to do or achieve, is a healthy way to think about reading (if that is truly what you want). It can encourage us to look less at vertical exponential growth, and more at horizontal achievement — broadening the scope of our existing capabilities to increase fulfillment, learning, and joy.
In 2022, though I have set a numerical goal, I am looking toward other goals and challenges which will reshape my reading. The Storygraph has a variety of reading challenges to encourage reading more diversely, including reading translated books, books from every continent or from so many countries, books from new genres, from queer authors, and from own voices reads. These are the challenges that give reading goals a positive shine.
If you still want to set a reading goal but want to avoid the pressure of numerical goals, try setting genre goals or diversity goals that are category-based. Or set your reading goal to 1 and feel smug and accomplished when you complete your goal early in the year.