I do not enjoy reading books.  As a highly educated person who interacts daily with other highly educated people, this fact is extremely difficult for me to admit.  Since their invention, books have been the quintessential symbol of intelligence, education, knowledge, and status.  To reveal that I simply do not read books is akin to committing socio-intellectual hara kiri-- I would be viewed as shallow and unintelligent.  The fact that I do not have a thought-provoking classic sitting on my nightstand would be, to those of my demographic, a sign of immaturity and intellectual otherness.

However, to say that I do not like to read books does not necessarily imply that I do not enjoy reading itself.  In fact, I love reading-- via numerous forms of writing (most of which come through the internet) and in several languages.  Reading is, in my opinion, the most efficient way to access and learn new information.

Although books are still one of the most effective methods of providing an experience (narrative, intellectual, etc.) for an audience, they are far from the most efficient way to transmit information.  For curious people like me, who love to learn new facts, ideas, and happenings, the internet provides the most rapid, direct, and accessible means for learning.  One might argue that a book could provide a deeper or broader kind of learning, which may be true for some, but for those with intense levels of impatient curiosity, there is nothing like the internet.  I can hop through dozens of Wikipedia pages in the blink of an eye or spend hours on Quora, following my interests of the moment rather than being restricted to the whims of The Author.

And perhaps that is the central idea: For my brain, books restrict my learning.  From the front cover to the back, I almost feel like the author's captive-- and my brain wants to escape.  Every unusual word makes me curious about its origins, every historical reference makes my mind want to uncover more, random thoughts enter my head and demand reflection.  As a child, I was always taught to focus on a book from cover to cover, but it was almost always an exercise in pure agony.  Following my brain's desires and seeking knowledge and stimulation elsewhere (through encyclopedias, magazines, the infant internet, or PEOPLE) made me feel immature and unintellectual based on the standards presented to me.

But what of the experience that a book can provide?  For many, engrossing oneself in a book is the classic escape-- a meditative trance-like state that utilizes the brain in a singularly distinctive way.  To those who enjoy reading, that state is a home of sorts-- comfortable and familiar-- and it is from that secure foundation that they can launch themselves into fantastical worlds, historical intrigue, mysterious episodes, or heartwrenching drama.  But what about those of us who find little comfort-- physical, intellectual, emotional, or spiritual-- in the act of sitting still and gazing at a book?  Our brains are not willing to detach from the reality around us.  Although many may associate that unwillingness or inability to focus on reading with childishness, it is not.  Rather, it is the sign of a person who is fascinated by the world as it is, and not requiring of a quiet alcove and literary portal to access that wonder.