Long-Form Reading as Resistance and Conditioning
Why reading books (slowly, deeply, together) might be the mental training we need most right now
I have a weekend nap time routine that I find sacred. To be clear, I’m not the one napping—although I celebrate those of you who have mastered that art. No, it’s my toddler who’s napping. When we’re not at his big brother’s baseball, basketball, or soccer game, the little guy naps and his mama dives into her book. Typically, I’ll set up the hammock and head outside. If it’s below 62 degrees, I’ll cozy up in a corner of the house where it’s relatively quiet. As soon as I open my book (if it’s non-fiction) or turn on my kindle (if it’s fiction), I feel something shift within me. My brain stops buzzing, my breath slows down, and I feel myself settling in.
In our current political climate, where education is being attacked, school libraries are under threat, and complex thinking is often reduced to sound bites, reading feels like a quiet—but potent—form of resistance.
Furthermore, in our fast-paced society, we’re losing our ability to sustain attention on content that matters. Scroll culture and dopamine hits train our brains to crave novelty, brevity, and distraction. But here’s the truth: The ability to sit with a long-form narrative—to get lost in an argument, to question, to reread—is not just a quaint academic skill. It’s a form of cognitive endurance. And like any form of endurance, it can be trained. We just have to commit to doing it more.
Enter: Book Club.
There’s something beautifully old-school about diving into a book alone, and then discussing it with a group of curious, thoughtful humans. It creates a rhythm of solitude and connection, focus and conversation, that nourishes the brain and the spirit.
In 2023, a book club in Venice, California finally finished reading and discussing Finnegans Wake by James Joyce. It took them 28 years! That’s not entirely surprising—Joyce’s novel is famously dense, meandering, and experimental. But it’s also a testament to what’s possible when a group commits to the long game of deep reading and collective meaning-making.
I’ve felt a similar sense of awe and appreciation this past year in our Book Club, although we move at a much faster clip, reading one book per month. Our focus is on books around mindset, human performance, and the inner game and the conversations that have emerged from our gatherings nourish my soul. We’re reading, not only to learn, but also to connect—to ourselves, to ideas, and to each other.
Long-form reading is mental conditioning. It demands attention, patience, and humility. It invites us to stay with the tension of a complex idea without needing immediate resolution. And in a culture obsessed with efficiency and hot takes, that feels revolutionary.
As we step into summer, and soon, the second half of the year, I hope you’ll consider what book—or what kind of reading—might help you reclaim your attention. And if you're craving community while doing it, you're always welcome in ours.