It’s easy for me to overanalyze what I’m reading. To lose myself in narrative structure and character arcs and forget to enjoy the story for its own sake.
And when I’m not doing that, it’s easy to feel guilty for reading fun books—for picking up The Hunger Games instead of Sense and Sensibility or something more edifying.
I absolutely believe that fiction exists for more than mere entertainment. Stories shape the reader’s mind in ways that are incredibly powerful—whether for good or for evil. But stories have that power precisely because reading is fun—because stories allow the imagination to work in ways that nonfiction simply can’t.
But on the other hand, I firmly believe that what I put into my mind matters as much as what I put into my body (which matters quite a lot, thanks to food allergies and intolerances). So just as I wouldn’t eat something I’m allergic to, I also wouldn’t read a book that will damage my worldview—but how can we readers balance these two things?
Food is on a spectrum, as far as nutrition goes, and the same can be said of books. So let’s explore each of these categories of both physical and mental food, and see which ones are best for our consumption.
1. Vitamins
First—and I know this isn’t technically a food—come vitamins. And this is where I’d place dry nonfiction (and clearly didactic fiction, like The Pilgrim’s Progress). It’s not necessarily pleasurable to swallow your vitamins each day, but if you go too long without vitamins, you’re not going to feel great.
I’d consider a lot of theological books, like the catechism or the Lutheran Confessions, to be in this category. I don’t dislike reading them, but I also don’t pick them up when I’m looking for something fun and diverting. Vitamin books, like vitamin pills, aren’t trying to be pleasurable—they’re trying to keep your mind healthy and strong.
On the literary side of things, I’d also put poetry in this category. Most people don’t sit down and read an epic poem in one go. Poetry is really meant to be read in little snippets, and then pondered on. The sonnet—only fourteen lines long—is one of the most enduring poetic forms for a reason!
Like vitamins, these books work well in frequent small doses. I’m not going to sit down and read the Lutheran Confessions or a volume of poetry in one sitting the way I might a good fantasy novel, but reading a few pages every evening is excellent for my mental and spiritual health.
To be honest, this is an area I’m weak in as a reader. Usually, I binge-read books—it’s not unusual for me to read a 300-page novel in one sitting. So I haven’t really formed the habit of reading a few pages of a certain book every day . . . even though I know I should. Hmm . . . I guess I know where my literary life needs improvement!
2. Whole Foods
Next come whole foods—books that are healthy and nutritious, but still enjoyable the same way a piece of fruit is. Most classics go in this category—books like Pride and Prejudice or The Chronicles of Narnia. These are the books I’ll read for sheer delight, but that contain absolutely nothing harmful.
Like whole foods, these books are high in mental nutrients. A lot of what you learn from vitamin books, you can also glean from whole foods books—but it sometimes takes a little more mental digestion to grasp the same point. And anyway, just as you don’t pick up a banana just because it’s high in potassium, you don’t decide to read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader because it warns against the increasing bureaucratization of modernity. It’s a delightful story, and the mental nutrition is a bonus.
As with whole foods, partake of these books regularly and generously, and enjoy yourself wholeheartedly while you do!
3. Casserole
I debated a long time on what to call this category, because I didn’t know which food best encapsulated this mostly-wholesome-with-a-few-empty-calories type of book. But I think casserole suits it well. These books are homey, they’re fun, they’re not too hard to read—but they still have some level of nutritional value.
The majority of books would fall into this category—detective novels, historical romance, clean fantasy, children’s classics, and more. Sure, I could find books with more complexity than A Bear Called Paddington, but it’s a delicious and easy go-to on a busy weeknight, just like casserole.
The only danger with these books is that, because they have so little harm in them, they can begin to replace whole foods books in your reading diet. But as long as you balance out casserole books with the occasional more substantial book, enjoy these books to your content.
Since this category encompasses the vast majority of books, all the books reviewed on my website fall into this category—you can check those out at this link if you’re looking for a good casserole read.
And while it’s hard to analyze my own writing, I’d put my books in this category, too, so feel free to check those out if you’re interested.
4. Dessert
Dessert books are the fourth (and most insidious) category of books, and this is only further complicated by the two subcategories of dessert books—the literary dessert books, and the philosophical dessert books.
Literary dessert books are books without much value to them. To be clear, I’m not just slamming writing style here. While I’m partial to a well-written book, this category would also include shallow or simplistic books. Not that there’s anything actively bad in those books—just that they’re not doing anything to broaden or deepen your understanding of the world.
Again, that’s not the point of (most) reading. But constantly reading books with no real substance to them will steal your taste for richer books—just as constant desserts will blunt your taste for fruits and vegetables. So while these books are wonderful as an occasional treat (my weakness is Christian romance—far from literary, but cozy and easy after a long day), don’t let yourself get too used to them.
Philosophical dessert books are . . . let’s just say, a little more dangerous. Think of this as the highly processed, overly-sweetened end of the dessert spectrum. Where a literary dessert book tends to have a simple plot, easy reading level, and stock characters, philosophical dessert books often have exciting plots and complex characters—and it gets especially dangerous when this is accompanied by intricate writing.
A lot of YA books fall into this category. The Hunger Games, mentioned above, would probably be included here. These are the books that excite your imagination—and often are very emotionally gripping—but that don’t follow a Christian worldview.
Some Christians will say to avoid these books altogether, and I understand where they’re coming from. It makes sense that parents want to shelter the minds and imaginations of their children—but I think there’s still some level of value in these books.
For one thing, they’re often very enjoyable. And while enjoyment is a dangerous solitary goal for reading, it’s still valuable. I had more fun reading The Hunger Games than Paradise Lost, even if Paradise Lost gave me more mental nutrition. But I was also old enough to use discernment as I read—to ask myself what message the book was presenting, and whether I agreed with it or not, and why. And learning to ask those questions is a very valuable skill.
But that does require some level of maturity in the reader, and that’s where it’s helpful to be aware of your own weaknesses. I read books now that I wouldn’t have read a few years ago. And recently, I put down a dessert book because I know I’m not yet mature enough to read it safely.
But someday, I’ll most likely come back to that book, ready to appreciate the good and forget the bad. And in the meantime, I know my limits well enough to scale back on dessert books as needed, and to know which ones to bypass altogether.
So like with real dessert, partake sparingly and cautiously—but what you do decide to consume, by all means, enjoy!
5. Poison
I debated whether to include this category at all . . . but I think it merits a brief description.
While I disagree with those who avoid dessert books altogether, I absolutely believe there are some books that you shouldn’t even touch, whether because of explicit and objectionable content, dangerous theological or philosophical lies, or some other reason.
So when you find a book with no value—with poison so deep in its veins that any enjoyment it might have held is ruined forever—don’t read it.
Just don’t.
Go find a nice whole foods book—or even a dessert book—instead.
So . . . what should we read?
Like with food, the key here is balance. Read books from every category (well, except poison, obviously), and enjoy them all for what they are.
But like with food, don’t overanalyze what you read to the point of stealing all the pleasure from stories. It’s not healthy to analyze the chemical makeup of your food as you’re enjoying a family meal—and neither is it healthy to be constantly fixated on story structure or thematic development or all the other things I love to obsess over.
But at the same time, just as you shouldn’t eat mindlessly, you also shouldn’t read books just because they’re easily at hand. Rather, as with food, make wise choices, and enjoy what you consume wholeheartedly.
After all, just like food, God made fiction for our delight.