Read More: Book Targets to Break Phone Addiction?

The annual ritual of declaring reading goals in January – the “read 50 books” pledges splashed across social media – isn’t about a resurgence of literary love, it’s about applying the relentless logic of self-optimization to the last bastion of analog pleasure. As literacy rates stagnate in the UK, with around 50% of adults reading regularly for pleasure, this performative reading feels less like a celebration of books and more like a desperate attempt to quantify a dwindling habit. The launch of the National Year of Reading feels almost…reactive, a plea against a perceived civilizational decline.

This isn’t simply a matter of bookworms versus casual readers. It’s about the insidious creep of metrics into spaces that were once immune. Philosopher C Thi Nguyen, author of The Score, brilliantly articulates this as “value capture” – the flattening of rich experiences into easily digestible numbers. A book read becomes a data point, a social currency, divorced from the actual experience of engagement. It’s far easier to broadcast “100 books read” than to articulate how a novel fundamentally shifted your perspective.

The responses from those *in* the book world are fascinating. Chrissy Ryan, a bookseller, initially used a reading goal as a way to combat burnout, but quickly realized the need to step back when the pressure became overwhelming. Derek Owusu, an author, actively resists tracking, finding the very idea “irritating.” And Jan Carson, another author, reads a staggering 300 books a year – but largely as a professional necessity, and with a focus on deep engagement rather than sheer volume. These aren’t anti-reading statements; they’re a rejection of the performance aspect.

The rise of platforms like StoryGraph, consciously designed as an alternative to Goodreads, is a direct response to this. By prioritizing flexible goals – page counts, time spent, or thematic challenges – StoryGraph attempts to de-emphasize the competitive element. It’s a smart move, positioning itself as the “anti-BookTok” for those seeking a more mindful reading experience. This is a clear market correction, a recognition that the current model is alienating some readers.

Ultimately, the “reading goal” phenomenon reveals more about our anxieties than about books themselves. It’s a symptom of a culture obsessed with productivity, even in leisure. The question isn’t whether reading is good for you – we already know it is – but whether we’re allowing the pursuit of quantifiable achievement to erode the very qualities that make reading worthwhile: curiosity, delight, and genuine meaning. As Nguyen puts it, if the number remains the reason you read, something has gone wrong. And that, for the publishing industry, is a potentially dangerous trend.