How reading gently weaves into daily life

In Sasojol, a work by late Joseon-era Silhak scholar Lee Deok-mu that examines scholarly households' etiquette and culture, one sees the reverence with which our ancestors approached books. A man so devoted to reading that he called himself a ganseochi (看書痴)—a “fool who only reads books”—Lee cautioned against intellectual vanity, warning, “One must not merely skim through books and then boast about having read widely.” Beyond this, he also offered meticulous guidance on how books should be handled, setting a standard that feels almost austere even by today’s measures.

“Do not wet your fingers with saliva to turn the pages. Do not underline with your fingernails… Do not tear, cut, or fold pages, nor rest your elbows on a book while reading… Do not open books in places where cleaning is underway. Never throw a book; do not turn pages with hands that have just adjusted a candlewick or scratched your head.”

Such scrupulous care is admirable, but few modern readers could claim to be true bibliophiles by this standard. In an era where more than 60,000 new books are published in Korea annually, the physical form of books is no longer treated with the same sanctity.

Yet, paradoxically, many Koreans still approach books with almost excessive caution—if not physically, then psychologically. With adults reading an average of just three books per year, and six in ten people not reading a single book annually, reading in Korea feels less like a natural daily habit and more like a solemn ritual requiring a deliberate act of will.

Recently, however, bookstores have been filling with slim, compact volumes designed to be perused casually. Short novels have gained popularity, and new series such as We Pick and DalDal Bookda now publish entire standalone books based on a single short story—an unconventional shift from the past, when a short story collection needed at least half a dozen pieces written over several years to be considered a proper book. Other releases, like the "Timely Words" essay series, take inspiration from seasonal foods, suggesting that books, too, should be enjoyed in their moment. These publications blur the line between books and magazines, offering a fresh approach to reading.

Some see these lightweight books as a strategic attempt to capture younger generations accustomed to short-form content and drifting away from traditional reading habits. But beyond their compact size, these books challenge the rigid perception of what a book should be, redefining the reading experience itself.

According to a national reading survey, the most cited reasons for not reading are lack of time due to work (24.4%) and the lure of other media (23.4%). While reading inherently demands active engagement, the more it is framed as an activity that requires complete immersion, the harder it becomes to choose and commit to a book. Yet, those who discover the joy of reading—through any means—are more likely to cultivate a deeper and more sustained relationship with books. Perhaps, in this age of text-based trends, these slender volumes will help dissolve the barriers to reading, allowing it to seep more effortlessly into our daily lives.