Reading has always been more than a hobby to me — it’s comfort, clarity, and, at times, the very thing that keeps me upright. So consider this the first letter from my reading perch: part journal, part meditation, part invitation.

Dear Inklings,

I’m never sure how universal my reading experience is, but I’ve always found reading restorative. Whether I’m in bed with the sniffles or bouncing from the walls with anxiety, the right book is better than a weighted blanket or a mug of rich hot chocolate. (But even better with the cozy accoutrements, of course.)

I’ve recently flown back from a trip in Abu Dhabi, and adjusting to an 11 hour time difference in both directions has been rough going. The last two weeks have featured many a sleepless night – which means many a night of midnight reading. (For me, this is preferred to midnight doomscrolling, which leaves me anxious and unsettled.) Through COVID, burnout, and academic anxiety, books have stayed by my side. In their pages, I’ve found both escape and inspiration — which raises the question: why is reading such a powerful form of recovery?

Reading to retreat

I can imagine you rolling your eyes now. “Duh,” you say, “when you’re battling something stressful, it’s great to escape into a totally different world where your problems don’t exist.” And while this is absolutely true, I think there are different flavors of that escape, suited for different problems. After all, sometimes my recovery read is a riotous epic fantasy, while at other times I want something a little homier, less intense.

I’ve found that my reading escapes take two forms. One is a total escape from the stress of the world I’m living in, to a much more chill one. These are the times I cozy up with The Kamogawa Food Detectives or Vera Wong. When life is stressful and I’m worried that I’m disappointing those I love, it’s great to read a book where the relationships work out in the end. At different times in the recovery process, these types of books can offer hope (you, too, can have lovely and warm things); escape (imagine you’re one of the people experiencing lovely warm thins), or a bridge between the stressful times behind and the warm relationships ahead. They’re a great way to have a mental reset – you may feel awful now, but this, too, shall pass.

Reading to reframe

On the other hand, sometimes you need an escape that allows you to keep your momentum. When I’m in the middle of a stressful situation that does not look close to abatement, I don’t necessarily want to slow down. Instead, I prefer to channel my energy into something twisty and difficult and totally different. This is the perfect time for a good, twisty fair play mystery a la Martin Edwards, or a complex epic fantasy (time to break out my Tasha Suri). Often, it can take a few chapters to really dive in – but once I’m in that flow state, I’m totally immersed. Books like these help me break from a stressful problem without losing my momentum – escaping into fictional problems rather than my own.

Of course, a side benefit of this kind of intense engagement is that it often provides much-needed perspective. It’s hard to be quite as stressed about a mediocre client call when I’m reading about the horrors of magical war. And reading historical fantasy, in particular, is a great reminder of the immense privilege I have. I have easy and continuous access to food and shelter. Also, I don’t have to deal with much sexism or racism in daily life. I have free time, with which I can read and craft and game. I have access to unlimited tea and blankets. Also, nobody wants to kill me. It’s silly, perhaps, but reading can be a great reset button, a reminder that so many of my problems are very much those of a privileged life.

The importance of being earnest

In either of these modes of reading, there’s one feature of any read that allows it to be a great escape: earnestness. When you’re laying in bed bored or frustrated, it does little good to feed the annoyed or angry voice in your head. Instead, reading for recovery works best when I can dive headfirst into earnest emotion — whether that’s warmth, curiosity, sorrow, or even fear. The best recovery reads don’t just distract me; they meet me exactly where I am and offer something real in return.

To be clear, I don’t mean that no humor is welcome. Many of my favorite genres feature a comic relief character of some kind. When deployed well, they can add to my engagement with the story and heighten the sense of escape. But in the best recovery reads, these jokes add to the sense of intense emotion. In a cozy mystery, the comic relief may actually help soothe tensions between group members. In a fantasy, they may help establish the group bond by repeating in-jokes right before a moment of tension. And of course, the best of these characters can show their fear and anxiety through means other than jokes – and that makes the emotions all the more real.

Detective Aunty, which I recently read while in transit for 20+ hours, is a great example of striking the balance. The story features plenty of silly moments, loving riffs from Kausar Khan’s friends as they encourage her, wry observations from Umza Jalaluddin about desi and immigrant life. But primarily, the emotions in the story are strong and real – Kausar’s isolation from her family, her concerns with reintegrating into a community she left behind, the power of grief and fear and family. These emotions are played totally straight, which makes the ultimate coziness of the ending that much brighter. I walked into the story mildly grumpy and anxious about my upcoming long-haul flights and layovers. I left in love with Kausar Khan’s family, and reminded of the weight immigrants can carry as they adjust to new cultures. Quite the reality check for an otherwise grumpy traveler…

The flexibility of reading sessions

Of course, there’s also a very physical component to reading as recovery. I spend most of my day hunched over a laptop screen, and reading books (or even my Kindle) requires much less blue light into my eyes. It’s also nice to read in whatever position feels comfortable (even if it sometimes means dropping a book directly on my face). Reading is an activity that lends itself to cozy, warm snuggles – but also to warming up in much-needed sunshine. Some of my best reading recovery days are by our rooftop pool, sweatshirt protecting me from the SF wind, reaching for every ounce of sunlight I can find.

Then there are the accoutrements. Because reading is so portable, it comes with any particular comfort items I might need. At times, that means reading curled up in a blanket puddle on the couch, warm mug of tea at hand. At others, I’ll bring a cute lil juice as I bask in the rooftop sunshine, luxuriating in the freedom to enjoy the outdoors. Reading can be adjusted to whatever setting feels most mentally satisfying – it’s a very flexible activity for setting, pace, intensity. And that means, no matter the flavor of recovery I need, reading is always high on the list of options.

Reading, reflection, and the road to active recovery

Reading has always been a form of self-care for me, and writing about my experiences for this blog has taken that to the next level. It’s easy, it turns out, to dive headlong into a well-written, engaging story. It’s harder – and more rewarding – to take the time to reflect on the impressions that story has left. When I’m burned out or my brain is running on half-empty, writing for this blog is a way to take back control. Writing about my reactions to a story forces me to reflect on why they were meaningful – and can lead to self-revelations that drive me to improve.

I’m not entirely sure where this series will go yet — but I know this: reading, reflecting, and writing are how I rebuild myself. And I’d love for this perch to become a shared one.
So tell me — what do you read when you’re recovering? What are your cozy rituals, your emergency comfort reads, your perfect reading snacks? I’d love to hear from you.

Yours in reading,
The Cozy Owlet