Summer Reading is for Everyone!

There is a small question I love to ask people: what are you reading right now? Not what you read in school, and not what you think you should read. What is sitting on your nightstand or loaded on your phone today?

It is a gentle question, but the answer tells you something. Having a book going, even a few pages at a time, means you have a private world to step into, a ready topic for conversation, and a quiet signal to yourself that you are still growing. Summer is the easiest season to start, so consider this my invitation to pick something up and keep it close.

The long evenings and slower weekends of summer were practically built for reading. There is less pressure, there are fewer deadlines, and there is more room to read for pleasure instead of obligation. You do not need a reading list from a teacher or a goal of fifty books by September. You need one book you are curious about, and the willingness to begin.

If the blank page of “but what should I read?” is what stops you, you are not alone. Choosing is often harder than reading.

When I am not sure what to pick, I look at the New York Times bestseller list. It refreshes every week, so there is always something new near the top, and it spans moods and genres, which means you can match a book to how you actually feel.

As I write this, the list runs from quiet, character-driven novels to big, transporting stories. Ann Patchett’s Whistler and Maggie O’Farrell’s Land are there for readers who want something literary and reflective. Matt Haig’s The Midnight Train offers a more imaginative, hopeful kind of escape. Lisa See’s Daughters of the Sun and Moon and Kathryn Stockett’s The Calamity Club carry you entirely into other times and places.

Here is the part people forget: you do not have to read the “best” book, or the one everyone is talking about. The list is a menu, not an assignment. Scan it, notice what pulls at you, and follow that. Permission to choose what you actually want is the whole point.

Since I am asking what you are reading, it is only fair to share what I am reading. A couple of books I have loved and happily press on other people are Canticle by Janet Rich Edwards and The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. A childhood family friend pointed me toward Kin by Tayari Jones and Dominion by Addie E. Crichens, which is exactly how the best recommendations tend to arrive, from someone who knows you.

When I am traveling back and forth, I switch to audio. The titles included with Audible make the miles disappear, and I found Prynne Viper, Deep Hole, and Ophelia Network to be easy, satisfying listens. I will also admit to a guilty pleasure: I have been making my way through the Harry Potter series on audio, and it is simply and thoroughly entertaining.

In my work helping autistic and neurodiverse adults prepare for the workplace, I see again and again how much reading quietly carries. A regular reading habit builds vocabulary, stretches focus, and offers practice in seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. It also gives you something to say. A book you are in the middle of is a portable conversation, a low-stakes way into small talk when open-ended social moments feel hard. “I just started this novel” is so much easier than “tell me about yourself.”

Many autistic readers already know the deep joy of a book. A strong interest, the focus to follow a story for hours, the comfort of returning to a familiar world: these are gifts, not quirks. If that is you, lean in. Reading widely and reading deeply are both worth celebrating.

There is a particular kind of magic in reading the same book as other people. Across the country, libraries, schools, and towns run programs known as Community Reads, or One Book, One Community. The idea is simple. A whole community chooses one book, reads it over a few weeks, and gathers for discussions, author talks, and events built around it.

What I love about these programs is what they create. When everyone has read the same story, you have an instant bridge to one another. You can talk about a character’s choice instead of having to talk about yourself. You belong to the conversation without having to be exactly like anyone else in it. For people who find unstructured socializing draining, a shared book offers a built-in script and a common reference point, which makes connection a little easier.

You can join one this summer by checking your local library, and you can also build your own. A Community Read can be as large as a city or as small as you and one friend, a family at the dinner table, or a few coworkers who agree to read the same book and compare notes on Fridays.

So here is the whole idea, kept simple. Always have something you are reading. Keep it visible, on the counter or the home screen, so it nudges you. Let it be imperfect. If a book is not serving you, set it down without guilt and pick another. The goal is not to finish every book, or to read the most. The goal is to always have a story in progress, and a few of them shared with people you care about.

What are you reading right now? If the answer is “nothing yet,” this is a lovely week to change that.

A last note. The final text I read for my EdD program was You’re Not Listening by Kate Murphy. It is a fitting one to end on, because so much of reading, and so much of the work I care about, comes down to paying real attention to other people.

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