In today’s world, where personal branding seems to be a fundamental social currency, it’s easy to see why people often attach themselves to external markers—whether it’s books, causes, or hobbies—in an attempt to define themselves. But I often wonder, has everything worth saying already been said? When I consider the bookshelves filled with existential wisdom, it’s hard not to feel that all the grand revelations about life, love, suffering, and existence have already been explored and articulated. What new insights could possibly be found that haven’t been addressed in one form or another?
The truth is, even artificial intelligence can now churn out a novel better than most humans could. Large Language Models can generate entire books in a matter of minutes. This begs the question: does reading still hold the same value, or have we turned it into an exercise in validation? I’m not trying to dismiss the joy of reading—far from it—but rather, I’m questioning the act of making reading central to one’s identity. Must reading define who you are, or be a metric by which others assess your worth?
We’ve all met people who take pride in their reading habits, dropping quotes from great authors into conversations like confetti. In doing so, they attempt to present themselves as a fusion of wisdom gleaned from countless books. But when it comes down to it, is this truly self-awareness, or merely a display of accumulated knowledge that isn’t necessarily digested? These borrowed words and ideas may reflect a person’s intellectual consumption, but they don’t tell us much about their true depth of experience or understanding.
What I find troubling is that people often use reading, hobbies, or causes as a stand-in for personal growth and authenticity. Instead of grappling with the complexities of their inner world, they latch onto something external—whether it’s a favourite novel, a piercing, or a cause like climate change—to give themselves a sense of identity. These things, while not inherently wrong, don’t make someone more valuable or interesting. They are simply props, external signals that don’t necessarily reflect who they are at their core.
Take dating profiles, for instance. It’s not uncommon to see lines like, “I’m a huge reader,” or “Obsessed with Harry Potter,” as though these details somehow provide a meaningful insight into who the person is. Sure, they might tell you a bit about their preferences, but they don’t reveal the depth of character, the substance that makes someone attractive in a genuine way. What truly makes someone captivating is not the number of books they’ve read, the tattoos they wear, or the causes they champion—it’s how they’ve lived their life, how they’ve faced challenges, made brave decisions, and become more self-aware.
I’ve met plenty of people who have read far more than I have, but I’ve met very few who have taken the time to truly articulate their own inner world. And that, to me, is what sets someone apart. It’s not about intellectual name-dropping or aligning oneself with the right causes; it’s about understanding and refining who you are, independent of the external props and labels. A person who has truly lived—who has made difficult, bold, and sometimes unexpected choices—is far more interesting than someone who has simply amassed knowledge without integrating it into their life.
At the end of the day, I’m not advocating for a rejection of reading, hobbies, or causes. If you derive joy from reading, by all means, continue. But I believe it’s crucial to examine the reasons behind why we hold these things up as markers of our identity. Is it because they bring us genuine joy and self-awareness, or because they serve as a convenient shortcut to signal our value to others? The most intriguing people, in my experience, are those who don’t need such external validation. They’re the ones who are interesting because of how they live, not because of the props they carry.
And perhaps that’s the most important thing of all—to live intentionally, to fully engage with your inner world, and to understand that what makes you valuable is not the number of books you’ve read, but how you’ve used what you’ve learned to shape the person you’ve become.
