9. Are You Seeking Discomfort? 

Anyone who has consistently watched movies over the past few years will have noticed a significant decline in the depth and originality of storylines, a drive toward maximising box office numbers, a blatant shift toward political correctness, and an omnipresent initiative toward diversity and inclusion that can sometimes seem misplaced.

Where one would normally retreat to the nearest sofa—where a blanket, a mug of hot tea, and the periodic rustling of a page lay waiting to provide solace and an escape into a world of depth, bravery, and originality—one soon finds that the publishing industry and its authors have not remained the heroes one had expected them to be. Of the four broad media categories—video, audio, image, and document—one would expect that the least consumed medium would remain the most unaffected.

It was not until I wanted to learn about mind maps that a friend of mine suggested a book on the topic. Halfway through, I realized it was little more than a sales pitch for the author's website, other books, business ventures—everything except how to make mind maps. A few days later, I found myself in a productivity slump and sought to fix it the best way I knew how: by reading a book on productivity and discipline. A quarter of the way through, I realised that, as much as I respected the author and their discipline, the information they were offering sounded less like Marcus Aurelius in Meditations and more like, I need to expand on this discipline topic because that’s what the publisher wants. I chose mental health instead and put those books down.

It was then that I realized I never had this experience with older books—books written before the era of internet productivity gurus, books written before my birth. Perhaps the bar is too high; one has to be careful when comparing the likes of Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, and Jung to contemporary authors who are simply trying to make a living. Not everyone can be Marcus Aurelius or Seneca—those were different times. Nonetheless, one cannot help but be curious about why books today seem to be deteriorating in quality and depth.

Could it be our society’s overgrown sensitivity to anything that does not sound universally uplifting, broadly applicable, caring, or fair? If saying something that is not considered politically correct is tantamount to raising your head above the herd, is it surprising that all heads remain bowed, their eyes and mouths fixated on the ground, ensuring proximity to the food? When the definition of hate-speech is stated in such non-committal terms so as to include every possible misinterpretation of both statement and intent, would it not be rational to fall in line and avoid cancellation? Is this why some books read like watered-down versions of the author's younger self?

Or could this lack of depth—this platitude-laden industry of commercialised, unearned wisdom—be due to excessive consumerism? The promise of success through lucrative book deals, licensing, media exposure, and social media popularity? When an author’s books are adapted into multimillion-dollar franchise movies and series, when the literary worlds they create become ingrained in cultural consciousness, is it really wrong to write with an international audience in mind? To write for the largest demographic possible? To appeal to the largest demographic possible?

Is it wrong to write for success, for fame and fortune, rather than for clarity, for exploring solutions to one’s dilemmas and self-confliction? Maybe one only needs to consider today's cost of living to understand why people need to make a few bucks. Selling books is not a charity, after all. Authors are confronted by bills too. It is easy to be a purist as a consumer when your next meal is not dependent on the number of books you have sold—or read.

Whatever the primary cause of today’s shallow content, the impact of what the reader demands from their author is paramount. Top-down approaches rarely work efficiently—unless enforced—without the willing participation of the consumer. Drake did not become the world’s highest-selling hip-hop artist solely through record labels working his records, artificially augmenting his numbers, and proliferating his songs across digital streaming platforms (DSPs).

Such a strategy succeeds only when consumers themselves turn to DSPs for their music options, when they become lazy, passive, and stop actively searching for music that speaks to them. Similarly, when readers want to read only those books sanctioned by populism, then those books become the staple, reducing their choices from an à la carte selection to a fixed menu.

Purists of any genre are often the hardest to please, mainly because they have standards. A worthy audience requires a worthy author, and vice versa. A worthy reader is one whose eyes are limited only to that which is beautiful and authentic, and legally blind to its level of populism. They are also the most appreciative of great works, and few things are more gratifying to a worthy author than a worthy reader who has seen the forest for the trees in their writing.

Maybe we should all be purists. If Are you holding back? is to be the guiding rule of thumb for authors to write deeply and honestly, then maybe Are you seeking discomfort? should be the guiding rule for readers wanting to read the authentic and profound. For profound works are synonymous with discomfort. Maybe being a reader is more than just skimming through books—it is about being your author's challenge and challenger. Maybe older writers understood this all too well.

That is why you should read older books. Better yet, dangerous books. Without purists, authors might cease seeing their readers as intellectual equals, and might resort to feeding them what has been the staple for the past few years: mindless entertainment.