Going to the public library was a big part of my childhood. I remember that distinct smell of books, the crinkly, plasticky sound when you opened one, and the strange ambience of a bunch of strangers being quiet together—and not to mention the accompanying thrill of potentially getting shushed or scolded for doing something out of line in this sacred space. The entrance to the children’s books section also had an archway in the shape of a huge open book! It was so cool.

My dad would bring me to the library every week. While he checked out the French books and classical music CDs, I went off to forage for Garfield comics and Wallace and Gromit DVDs. When I started reading young adult novels, I loved fantasy books, especially the ones with dragons in them. I’d also take the free bookmarks to add them to my bookmark collection at home.

Then at some point I stopped reading for leisure … maybe it was in middle school.

In college I studied comparative literature and read a lot for class, sometimes around 400 pages a week. I didn’t even consider skimming or reading summaries online an option because I thought that would “ruin” the actual experience of discovering the story bit by bit (I’m super averse to spoilers in books, TV, film—I even count trailers and seemingly benign descriptions as spoilers because I want the whole “experience” to be a “surprise”).

Turns out, I wasn’t having that much fun reading every page anyway and often stayed up super late in the library trying to finish 50, 60, 70 pages per class, likely at the expense of a healthy social life. I was so furiously trying to finish the assigned texts that there wasn’t even time to enjoy the development of a character or relish in a particular plot twist. If one week I didn’t manage to finish every single page of my reading assignments, I would feel … guilty?

Ironically, 5 years out of college, I think I’ve only recently discovered the joy of reading. It just took me a while to realize that I can do whatever I want and simply curate my own curriculum. I want to explore more Asian American literature? Read work by authors of color? I can just … do it. I am, after all, in charge of my own LIFE!

In 2019 I went to the ZLB Amerika-Gedenkbibliothek and got myself a library card at just 10 euros a year, the price for non-students (students in Berlin can access the libraries for free). They have a pretty big English-language section, and I rediscovered how enjoyable it is to browse, to look at the descriptions on book jackets (I don’t consider these to be spoilers) and happen upon something intriguing. Before, I might’ve picked out books like I pick out wine—based on how pretty the label is (I know nothing about wine). I still do this, to a certain extent, because I admire nice graphic design. But now it feels more purposeful.

I also came to terms with the fact that I have the most fun reading in English, my native language. This may seem like a no-brainer. But I’d put immense pressure on myself to read in foreign languages I’d learned in school (French, German) and would be quietly ashamed when I couldn’t understand them as well or read them as efficiently. As I grow up, I question this more and more. In these situations, especially since the onset of the pandemic, the German word wozu? “What for?” often comes to mind. What’s the point? Why make things harder and more stressful for myself?

My perspective and beliefs are shifting quite a bit in these times of COVID-19. In the Before Times, I didn’t read e-books, preferring much rather to visit the library and peruse in person. I think once the pandemic is over, I‘ll still prefer physical books and having something to lug around with me in the U-Bahn. But I’m honestly really enjoying my Libby library app, especially because I don’t need to go anywhere to get books! It automatically records my Lesereise, my reading journey, and I can see how many times I‘ve “picked up” a certain book and how long it took to finish reading it. I don’t necessarily need this information, but it’s cool I guess.

One more thought on how I found my love for reading again: I started a book club together with some of my hall mates from college! It’s been more than a year since we founded it, and we’re still going strong. We have yet to come up with an official name for our book club, though sometimes I like to stylize it as “Bookklub” (sounds like some Berliner nightclub, right?). Because of how we occupied the three corner rooms on one end of the floor in our sophomore year dorm and crawled out from our separate lairs from time to time to hang out, often somewhat delirious after staying up late doing homework, we called ourselves gremlins in the “Gremlin Cave.”

I’d like to end this inaugural blog post with a list of the books I’ve read since getting my library card in Berlin back in 2019. * means I read it for Bookklub:

• Pachinko, Min Jin Lee *

• Homegoing, Yaa Gyasi

• The Refugees, Viet Thanh Nguyen

• There There, Tommy Orange *

• The Valley of Amazement, Amy Tan

• Fear of Flying, Erica Jong

• Snow Hunters, Paul Yoon

• The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy

• Vox, Christina Dalcher

• Midnight in Chernobyl, Adam Higginbotham *

• Circe, Madeline Miller *

• The Circle of Karma, Kunzang Choden

• The Underground Railroad, Colson Whitehead *

• A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara *

• Hunger, Roxane Gay *

• What luck, this life, Kathryn Schwille

• You Can’t Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have to Explain, Phoebe Robinson

• Dear Girls, Ali Wong

• Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin

• The City We Became, N. K. Jemisin *

• Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup, John Carreyrou

• The Body is Not an Apology, Sonya Renee Taylor (audiobook)

• Born a Crime, Trevor Noah