People who claim to read but never actually finish books usually display these 7 behaviors (without realizing it)

I used to be one of those people who'd enthusiastically tell anyone who'd listen about the five books I was "currently reading."

My nightstand was a graveyard of bookmarked novels and dog-eared nonfiction, each one abandoned somewhere around page 87. I had opinions about books I'd barely cracked open and would casually drop titles in conversation like I'd absorbed their wisdom through osmosis.

Sound familiar?

There's a massive difference between being someone who reads and someone who performs reading. And I've spent enough time on both sides to know the tells.

Let's talk about the behaviors that give away the performance.

1) They buy books faster than they could possibly read them

Walk into their apartment and you'll see it immediately.

Stacks of pristine books everywhere. On the coffee table, the nightstand, the bathroom counter. Half of them still have the price stickers attached. The spines are so uncracked they practically shine.

During my early twenties in Los Angeles, I'd hit up the indie bookstores in Silver Lake and walk out with four new titles every weekend. It felt productive, like I was investing in my intellectual growth. Really, I was just collecting props for the person I wanted to be.

The math never added up. Buying a book every three days when it takes most people a week or more to finish one? That's not reading, that's hoarding with good intentions.

Real readers have a different relationship with acquisition. They might buy books ahead, sure, but there's usually a reasonable correlation between their purchase rate and their actual reading speed.

2) Their "currently reading" list never changes

Ask them what they're reading right now and you'll get the same answer you got three months ago.

"Oh, still working through that biography of Steve Jobs. It's so good, just been really busy."

Translation: they read 30 pages in January and haven't picked it up since.

I've mentioned this before, but the books we choose to keep "currently reading" instead of just admitting we've abandoned say a lot about how we see ourselves. We're more invested in the identity of being someone who reads important books than actually doing the work.

The tell is in the language. Notice how they never say "I'm on chapter twelve" or "just got to the part where." It's always vague. Always "still working through it" or "making progress."

Progress you can't quantify usually isn't happening.

3) They talk about books in broad strokes and pulled quotes

Listen carefully to how they discuss books.

They'll mention the main premise, maybe reference a quote they saw on Instagram, throw out some general themes. But ask them about a specific chapter, a particular argument the author makes, or how the narrative shifted halfway through?

Suddenly it gets foggy.

This was my specialty for years. I got really good at absorbing book summaries, skimming reviews, and catching the general vibe without actually reading it. You can fake a lot of knowledge that way. What you can't fake is the lived experience of moving through a book page by page.

Someone who's actually read a book will remember weird details. The tangent in chapter seven that seemed random. The part where the author's argument got shaky. The section that dragged on too long.

The messy, specific stuff that doesn't make it into the Goodreads description.

4) They get defensive when asked about reading

Bring up reading in conversation and watch what happens.

The actual reader will light up, eager to share what they're into. The performer gets tense. They'll launch into explanations before you've even asked a question.

"I've been SO busy with work. I barely have time to sleep, let alone read."

"I'm more of an audiobook person now. Does that count?"

"I'm taking a break from reading to focus on other things."

All unprompted. All defensive.

There's this underlying anxiety that someone's going to call them out. So they build the defense before the attack even comes. They need you to know that their not-reading has very legitimate reasons and they're still very much a "reader" despite all evidence suggesting otherwise.

Here's what I learned after years of this: if you're actually doing something, you don't need to justify it. You just do it.

5) Their reading goals are performative rather than personal

"I'm going to read 52 books this year."

"My goal is to get through all the classics."

"I'm only reading books by women this year."

Notice anything? These are all external measures designed for announcement, not internal desires designed for growth.

Don't get me wrong, reading challenges can be useful. But when the goal is more about the number you can post on social media than the actual experience of reading, you've lost the plot.

I fell into this trap hard during my time as a music blogger. I'd set these ambitious reading goals about consuming books on music theory and cultural criticism, then beat myself up when I didn't hit them. The whole thing became about maintaining an image rather than genuine curiosity.

Real reading goals sound different. "I want to understand behavioral economics better." "I'm curious about how other writers structure their narratives." These are about what you'll gain, not what you can claim.

6) They restart books constantly but never push through the middle

They'll read the first chapter of something, put it down for a week, then feel like they need to start over because they "forgot what was happening."

This becomes a cycle. Restart, read a bit, put it down, restart again. The beginning gets read four times. The middle never gets touched.

I did this with "Thinking, Fast and Slow" for an entire year. Kahneman's first chapter is fascinating, full of these great anecdotes about cognitive biases. I probably read it six times. But chapter three, where he gets into the weeds of the actual research? Never made it past page 50.

The middle of books is where the real work happens. It's where authors build their arguments, where narratives get complicated, where you actually have to engage rather than just consume.

People who perform reading never get there because that's where performance ends and actual reading begins.

7) They confuse consuming content about books with reading books

They've watched the TED talk. Read the Atlantic article summarizing the key points. Listened to the podcast where the author was interviewed. Scrolled through the Twitter thread breaking down the main arguments.

They know a lot about the book. Just haven't actually read it.

This is the most insidious one because it feels like reading. You're engaging with the ideas, right? You're learning the concepts. In our current media landscape, you can have detailed opinions about a book without cracking the spine.

My partner, who's not a big reader, actually does this better than I used to. They'll watch a documentary or listen to a podcast about a topic and just... own that. No pretense that they've done the deeper dive.

Meanwhile, I'd consume all the secondary material and somehow convince myself that counted as reading the primary source.

It doesn't.

Final thoughts

Look, I'm not here to shame anyone. We all perform versions of ourselves, especially around things we think we should be doing.

But here's what shifted for me: I stopped trying to be a "reader" and just started reading what actually interested me, when I felt like it, with no pressure to finish or perform.

Some months I read five books. Some months I read none. Sometimes I bail on a book at page 50 without guilt.

The difference is I'm honest about it now. With others, sure, but more importantly with myself.

Because the point of reading isn't to collect titles like achievements. It's to engage with ideas, to experience different perspectives, to sit with complexity for longer than a Twitter thread allows.

And you can't do any of that if you're too busy performing.