"How many books have you read this year?"
That moment, a simple question tossed out during a check-in, just lingered after someone shared their latest Goodreads tally. I smiled and said I wasn’t sure. I don’t track what I read. I don’t even remember every title. But I do remember what stayed with me and more importantly, what changed me.
The question wasn’t offensive, just unexpected. But it got me thinking about how we use reading as a status symbol.
As if volume equals wisdom. As if remembering a quote or author makes us more insightful. But what does it actually mean to be well-read?
“Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.” — John Locke
That quote landed hard the first time I came across it. Because if we’re honest, reading can become a performance. Especially in leadership spaces. We drop names of authors, reference frameworks, even quotes from memory. But the real test is not how much we’ve read but it’s how deeply we’ve applied it.
I’ve seen people with shelves full of books and degrees struggle to admit they might be wrong, as if knowledge makes them infallible. But I’ve also seen someone say, “I read that book too, but maybe I missed something—what stood out to you?” That kind of humility isn’t weakness; it’s what turns reading from performance into transformation.
It creates space for dialogue instead of debate, for learning rather than lecturing. It shows that understanding isn’t a finish line but a path with room for new perspectives. Humility doesn’t erase expertise. It gives it traction. When someone chooses curiosity over certainty, their words carry more weight. And often, the most insightful people are the ones still willing to say, “Tell me more.”
Reading might expose us to new worlds, but intellectual humility allows us to live in them.
To be honest, I choose books by title. I skip chapters. I underline things. I reread what resonates. Sometimes I forget the author’s name but remember the lesson. One book reminded me to pause before responding in conflict and that helped me hold a difficult conversation without shutting down.
I don’t remember everything I read. I’m okay with that. The parts that matter tend to find their way into how I lead, how I speak and how I treat people.
“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.” — Voltaire
That’s not failure. That’s freedom. The freedom to be a leader who is still learning. To not have to know everything. To be confident without being closed.
Being well-read isn’t about being right. It’s not about status or memory. It’s about how the words you’ve read shape how you move through the world. It’s the insight that helps you give credit instead of taking it. The perspective that makes you ask better questions. The line that helps you lead with calm when things get loud.
So no, I don’t know how many books I’ve read this year. I just know I’m still learning. Still curious. Still open.
And that might be the most important kind of reading there is.