M. Suzanne Terry

As I mentioned last Friday, I will read anything Louise Penny writes. I am particularly fond of the Inspector Gamache series. I didn’t even start it until my church book club decided to read the “newest one” a few years ago (I think it was maybe the 11th or the 12th book in the series). I had a few months to catch up and get to know all the characters, and it was an easier task than I bargained for. I love the characters in Three Pines. I even like the main officers in the books, and it’s hard to write a law enforcement character that I like. But after 16 (and a half) books, we seem to have come to an understanding.

I wouldn’t have sped through the series in time to get to the book we were discussing in book club if I hadn’t enjoyed the audiobooks. The original narrator, Ralph Cosham, had the most lovely voice. He died after the 10th book, though. Robert Bathurst (Sir Anthony Stallan in Downton Abbey, if such a reference is helpful to you) took over reading from there. I had grown so used to Cosham’s portrayal that I only made it through about ten minutes of the reading until I had to finish the 11th book in print. I’ve since grown accustomed to the change…but I still miss Cosham.

It may technically take more hours for me to listen to an audiobook than read the print version, but I still finish them faster. Because I can take them anywhere. Audiobooks are the multi-tasker’s dream. I listen to them in the car. I listen to them while I’m cooking or washing dishes or doing some other mindless task. I usually speed them up to 1.5x, unless it’s a memoir read by the person who wrote it. Then I feel like I’m rushing them, which seems impolite.

There is a certain faction in bookish circles that turns its nose up at audiobooks. They scoff at the idea that it could be considered reading. To them, proper reading is only done with print book in hand. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I find this needless gatekeeping absurd. Of course, listening to audiobooks is reading. Different people process information in different ways, and if you’re an auditory learner, it makes sense that audiobooks would be your reading method of choice. No matter how you absorb the words, the end effect is the same – reading.

This limited definition of reading is also ableist. There are many people for whom – for various reasons – reading a print copy is simply not an option. For many of them, audiobooks are the primary way they read. To consider it a lesser method has ugly implications.

In addition to being a convenient way to continue reading while I’m performing dull tasks, an audiobook is sometimes the only way I can read. When my anxiety is in overdrive and I cannot physically sit still, here comes an audiobook to the rescue. When there’s too much sensory information afoot for me to pay attention to a print copy, I can put in my earbuds, close my eyes, and still focus on what I’m reading. When I was overwhelmed by the combination of isolation and every single life task suddenly getting more complicated at the start of the pandemic, audiobooks were friendly voices that demanded nothing in return.

I love reading print books, but I’m a big fan of audiobooks as well.

I’m a big fan of a lot of books, and I’m talking about them all month.