#23 - The Psychology of Books

Reading vs Rereading ... one and the same?

Welcome to this weeks edition of Tuesday’s Rule. A breakdown of a “life-rule” that I find to be useful or interesting.

I’ve recently been doing something I hadn't done since 2007: I’ve started rereading books.

(I knew it was 2007 because that was the year the final Harry Potter book came out. My ritual when the newest one was released was to reread all the previous books in order.)

I read around 20 books per year. If I live for another 60 years, optimistically, I might be able to read 1,200 more books.

This sounds like a lot, but it is a tiny fraction of the millions of books out there, not to mention the classics that will be written over the next few decades.

Even before the millions of books still out there for me to find, I have dozens sitting on my bookshelf, never opened.

Perhaps as many as a million words within touching distance, yet to be read.

And these are no arbitrary words. They are words in books I have been compelled to buy, words in books I am excited to begin.

But even with all of those waiting to be broken into, I chose to open up one I had already read.

This opens up an interesting psychological question for those who, like me, love reading.

Which is optimal; 1) exploring and discovering as many new books as you physically can, or 2) rereading your favourite books - and the best books - over and over again?

Up until now, I’ve always been in camp one.

In fact, in the past few years, my ratio of buying books to actually reading them is probably over 2:1. I could stop buying books until 2027 and still not make it through my bookshelf.

This mindset has always been about novelty.

We get enough repetition in most other aspects of life, reading should be about discovery, excitement. (To this same point, I am happy to give up on a book 1/4 of the way in if it’s not grabbing me).

A big part of the reason I’ve always preferred going for new books is that I see reading as a chance to learn.

Whether fiction or nonfiction, new books provide new information, perspectives, ideas. I’m building my understanding of a subject, meeting new characters or plots, experiencing new experiences.

I would get FOMO at the thought of picking up and reading something I’ve already read, as if life was too short to read the same book twice.

But I did. The first book I decided to read again is a modern classic. The Psychology of Money by Morgan Housel, which I first read soon after it was published in 2020.

Within about 3 pages I was surprised to realise… I may as well have never read it.

While I remembered the structure and some of the storylines, for the most part, it was as though I’d never opened the book in the first place.

This feeling reminded me of one of my favourite quotes:

No man ever steps in the same river twice. For it's not the same river, and he's not the same man.

Maybe a bit over the top for a book about personal finance, Jack.

But hear me out.

I am certainly not the same person I was in 2020. My reading habits might not have changed much, but who I am has. Where I am with money and how I think about investing has definitely changed. As such, Housel’s stories and insights found me with greater ease and I was more efficient in thinking about putting lessons into practice.

Obviously, the words in the book haven’t changed, but the world around them has.

One story concludes with the point: Microsoft is now a “trillion-dollar company”.

I imagine that felt astronomical at the time. As of this Tuesday, Microsoft is a $3.2 trillion company.

“Is Microsoft really a 3.2x larger company now than it was then, or have the markets really just lost all sense of reality", I thought.

I thought more about where I’m invested and where I’m not and the craziness of where we are today with markets. I would not have had that depth of thought had I read “Microsoft is now a $3 trillion company”.

A trite example, perhaps. But I hope you see my point.

Let’s get to the rule we’re unpacking, which you may have already guessed…

Reread your favourite books. The words on the page don’t change, but you do

Naval Ravikant is over-quoted, but he (again) was the initial inspiration behind this rule, with his short video titled "Read the Best 100 Books Over and Over Again", where he talks from an intellectual perspective, positing that if you’re trying to generate a deep understanding about a topic, its better to read the best books repeatedly vs. lots of different ones.

This raises the obvious question - how many books do you need to read to figure out or trust which the best ones are…

However, the most relevant point here is this. We don’t take in everything we read. In fact, it’s not even close.

Edgar Dale was an American academic who’s work and thinking inspired the “Cone of Experience”. (There is lots out there that suggests it’s widely misapplied, but let’s not let that stop us)…

According to this, learners generally remember:

• 10% of what they read.

• 20% of what they hear.

• 30% of what they see.

• 50% of what they hear and see.

• 70% of what they say and write.

• And 90% of what do.

These numbers are suspiciously round, and this is clearly a monumental simplification.

But it does feel directionally correct, and it is widely accepted that the best way to learn is to teach to others.

And the worst way to learn… is by reading.

Therefore, it's no surprise that when you reread a book, you are going to gain a bunch of new insight—you don't remember 90% of it!

Like me with The Psychology of Money, and in my teenage years with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Each time I pick up the book, I’ll discover and learn new things because I just hadn’t absorbed it all the first, second or even third time I’d read it.

Maybe I don’t need to read new books if I’m craving new information, new perspectives, new ideas.

And of course, reading is about much more than just learning.

Books are many things. They are comic relief, they are escape, they are nostalgia. They are eudemonic, as I wrote in one of my first ever Substack posts in 2022. I write:

Bewilderment was an escape from reality and a chance to detach from real life. After finishing the book, I felt like I had not only read an incredible story, but I’d also connected with characters and their sadness in ways that I don’t typically do. I’m sure, subconsciously, I was also left feeling grateful for the fortunate position I am in in my life compared to those of the characters who I had just connected with…

I am still incredibly grateful for the fortunate position I am in in my life.

But what would be different and what would I rediscover if I decide to reread Bewilderment 2, 5, or 20 years on?

I like this quote I came across in this blog post.

What I discovered then was that rereading doesn’t just let us relive the memories of what happens there on the page. It also lets us revisit the versions of ourselves who came to the pages in years past.

This is true. When we reread a book, the words haven’t changed, but the world around us has. And so have we.

The pull of new books remains strong, and I’m eager to get into the untouched collection on the bookshelf.

But I'm now realising the discovery and reward in the interplay of static words and dynamic experience.

I’m as excited by that as I am by the books I’ve yet to read. And I’m already excited to reread the books I’m yet to read.

Game changer.

Have a great rest of the week ✌🏻❤️

P.S. we’re going to explore this a bit more and not only is this rule 23, it’s also going to inspire 24, 25 & 26! The next three rules we breakdown are going to be taken from books I have reread in the past few weeks. 📚

P.P.S I love nothing more than receiving book recommendations - please hit me with yours in the comments! 🙏🏻