Making a case for slow reading

And an incredible story that led to the unearthing of another incredible story

Covid finally came for me this past November.

And though the brain fog that descended resolved not long after my Day 11 negative test, something unexpected happened.

My ability to read took a hit and I was not able to focus on a single book over the next couple of months.  

This is notable given that depending on my ongoing book stack—how many books are quick reads and how many are false starts (if a book doesn’t grab me within the first 50 pages I give myself permission to abort)—I read anywhere from 2 to 8 books a month; on average, 3 to 4 per month.

I know this because I can envision the Instagram tiles.

Reading is a joy I discovered as an adult. And a few years ago—as a way to encourage self-care through reading and also support authors—I started sharing my monthly reads at the end of each month on social media. In the captions I shared brief thoughts about each book; the more books I read, the briefer I needed to be, given Instagram’s character count. 

For a while, this was super fun. I loved hearing people’s thoughts about my picks, whether we agreed or disagreed. I loved getting book recommendations from people. I loved knowing that so many of us were connected through words spun from an author’s imagination. I loved hearing that people were adopting my 50-page litmus test. 

Life, after all, is too short to force your way through a book you aren’t enjoying.

It continued to be fun until it was not. I wasn’t striving to be a Bookstagrammer, but it seemed to be happening and I didn’t like it. It started with e-mail and DM pitches about books. Then unsolicited books started showing up on my doorstep, which I really hated because I feel that finished copies of books are precious; I didn’t want to receive books I had no intention of reading. And just last week, I received a pitch from a book publicist asking to meet me for coffee so he could “pick my brain” (worst phrase ever; please never use it when you want to ask someone for their time, expertise, and creativity for free) about how to pitch Boston-based authors.

I mean, what the actual fuck? Isn’t that your job, bro?

Beyond all of those external things, though, I also began to feel an internal, self-induced pressure to read—to read more books so I could give voice to more books, to squeeze books into my reading queue so I could support an author with a feature before their publication date, even if I wasn’t in the mood to read that particular book. To rearrange my book queue based on “shoulds.”  

I actually found myself feeling stressed out about my book stack.

I realize this is a problem of privilege, by the way.

After I came out of my Covid fog, I didn’t pick up a single book for a long stretch and it felt like something of a reset button. I realized that I actually felt, with Covid, relief in having an excuse for why I couldn’t read given the pressured nature that had evolved. And so at that moment, I decided to stop doing my monthly book recaps, let go of internal and external expectations, and embrace slow reading. 

I wanted to delight in the feeling of picking up a book when I was in the mood to pick up a book. 

I wanted to make my book selection based on how I was feeling at that moment. 

I wanted to pause and delight in the way an author constructed a sentence or paragraph. 

I wanted to perhaps even re-read a passage out of sheer appreciation because I loved a scene so very much.

And I couldn’t have started this new journey with slow reading with a better book than Master Slave Husband Wife: An Epic Journey from Slavery to Freedom by Ilyon Woo.

Now, you may be thinking, “OMG seriously, Christine? I know it is Black History Month, but that is too heavy! Gimme a contemporary romance!” But please stay with me for two reasons—other than the fact that the privilege of avoiding subject matter that feels too heavy is an excellent reason to lean in.

First, Master Slave Husband Wife is a masterfully written book that delivers history, suspense, a love story—think of it as an epic double win: you will educate yourself while being pulled along on a wild narrative ride. And second, after attending Ilyon’s book event, Ilyon and I learned that our histories are intertwined.

BONKERS. But let me start with the book.

It’s important to share that history has never been my strong suit. I have never been able to hold sweeping historical arcs, major dates, or small details in my head. My first history class in high school was “taught” by a teacher who read from an AP prep book, the unfortunate result being that I deemed all history BORING.

So, history has never been my genre pick. However, Ilyon Woo is a mutual friend I met through my dear friend Kristen, and when I received Ilyon’s email about her book event in Harvard Square, even though I was a little worried about my capacity to hang with the historical story, I wanted to support Ilyon as an author, friend, and fellow Korean. So Kristen and I decided to grab some ramen then go to the book event.

As I listened to Ilyon at the event, one of the many things she said that struck me was that in the telling of this amazing, lesser known story—about an enslaved couple that escapes the South with the wife (who looked white) dressed as a man, the master, and the husband as “his” slave—she did not want to write a boring, giant, 500-page historical tome. Ilyon wanted to write it like a novel, pulling the reader through a stunning story with more twists, turns, and close calls than one could imagine possible. She wanted her parents, for whom English is their second language, and any person—not just history buffs—to be able to read and access this true story of love, escape, activism, and bravery. 

After the event, when I made it to the signing desk, I hugged Ilyon and told her what an incredible speaker she is and how excited I was to read the book. I also commented on how adorable her parents are (they were present that evening) and she told me she feels the same way whenever I post pictures of my Mom on Facebook. 

Now, speaking of my Mom, the next morning I called her for our usual Tuesday social call, and I mentioned Ilyon and her book and the event. I told my Mom that Ilyon is Korean and that Ilyon’s Mom is a renowned pianist who I saw in concert pre-pandemic. I was about to tell her that Ilyon’s Dad is a renowned architect when she said, “Oh, you know, back when Dad and I were renting apartments in Cambridge we rented an apartment to a Korean couple where the wife was a pianist and the husband was an architect. I think their last name was Woo.”

Envision my jaw dropping and hitting the floor.

We talked about the timing and I asked about the address. Surely there couldn’t be two Woo couples with these professional descriptives but I wanted to fact check. After I hung up with my Mom, my mind was spinning. My parents routinely experienced racism when they tried to rent apartments as a young couple, which is one reason they worked so hard to own property. I kept thinking about how meaningful and relieving it must have been to be able to connect, Korean couple to Korean couple.

I wrote Ilyon right away and she confirmed that my parents’ apartment was, in fact, her childhood home. Our minds were collectively blown over this newly realized connection between our families, forged decades earlier. She later sent me a photo of the mini two-story house her Dad had built inside my parents’ rental apartment, with the street name printed on the side. 

By this point, I didn’t think my mind could explode further. And then I tucked in to read Master Slave Husband Wife, which proved astonishing on several levels.

Having had a window into Ilyon’s research experience via the book event, and flipping through the extensive endnotes in her book, I was overwhelmed thinking about the time and effort and complex information cataloging that was necessary to research this book.

I was shocked that this story is one I had never heard of before. At the conclusion of the book, Ilyon speculates on why this might be, and yet I was still shocked that this is not a cornerstone story in history. Perhaps thanks to Ilyon it will become so.

I was delighted that Ilyon’s writing does, in fact, read like the very best suspense novel. The end of every single chapter made me eager to read what happened in the next. If you, like me, have struggled with history in the past, do not let that get in the way of reading this book!

And to bring this story back full circle, I couldn’t have asked for a better book to fuel my commitment to embrace slow reading. Because of the subject matter, there were many moments where I needed to sit with my feelings about gender and race and the perception of human hierarchy. Because of Ilyon’s elegant, decisive writing, there were paragraphs I wanted to re-read simply for their beautiful construction.

Thank you, Ilyon, for the gifts your book gave me—you taught me about a new piece of history, opened my thinking about how history can be conveyed, wrote a genius book that captivated me and helped me relish in slow reading, and helped me unearth a fresh moment of awe and appreciation for the immigrant experience and the connection between our families.

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Endnotes

If you need further inspiration on the delight of reading, Asha Dornfest and I talk about reading for grounding and pleasure.

The photo above is what I described as a double duty friendship love bomb in this episode on simple friendship reboot tactics.

Since I mentioned my Mom…it was so special to have her on as my first Edit Your Life guest of 2023, speaking about the power of curiosity. My Mom is shy and was both nervous and excited about being on the show, and I have heard from so many people about how meaningful it was to hear her voice and perspective.

In my retirement I want to be a library volunteer. I freaking love libraries. There’s nothing sexier than picking up an unexpectedly robust hold stack. This was a pre-pandemic shot taken by my daughter Violet.