I'm not necessarily disagreeing. But I also want to think critically about why I read books. I don't want to read books just so I can tell people I read lots of books.
I've concluded that I read for entertainment, to understand other people, and for community - to have something in common with other readers of that book. Three recent books:
The most recent book I read was Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett. Very much in the entertainment category, but also for community: it's nice to have something in common, shared reference points, something to talk about with all the nice people loving these books, including family.
Then a book Norwegian book called "Men who hate local history", which I bought because I was traveling alone with limited other entertainment, and had heard about it and wanted to know what it was about (understanding people). But its entertainment value was questionable, and by god, it has more "serious Norwegian literature" clichés than "genre books" (what these authors absolutely do not want to get associated with) have "genre clichés". It IS a genre, just not a very entertaining one. Put it down, unsure if I will finish this one.
I tried to read Stefan Zweig, "The world of yesterday". That was strictly "understanding people". "Famous Jewish playwrights of the final days Austro-Hungarian empire" are not people I would think I have much in common with, and I don't, and it at times makes it downright alienating reading. Like, I can see he was absolutely starstruck by the art and culture of his time and place, and I can see that this time and place was hugely influential and had profound impacts on our world today (I've seen it claimed you could theoretically meet Hitler, Stalin, Tito, Trotsky etc. on the street in Vienna in these years, as well as Freud and all the art world celebrities Zweig obsessed over). But I just can't say I feel that sense of wonder myself and man, is it bleak reading. I put it down indefinitely.