How to turn ‘reading is boring’ into literary gold

Ever seen someone parallel park like a pro? One fluid move, no hesitation. Meanwhile, the rest of us are stuck doing a 17-point turn, with a line of cars silently judging.

Reading is kind of like that.

Some kids glide into books effortlessly, no awkward gear shifts, no panic.

Others? Others stall before the first page, wrestling with words that refuse to sit still, reversing back over the same sentence three times before it makes sense. And then there are those who would rather abandon the whole thing and walk.

I get it.

I’ve taught students at every level, from those devouring Dickens for fun to those who would sooner eat their GCSE paper than read another passage from A Christmas Carol.

The Reluctant Reader's Reality

When kids say reading is boring, what they really mean is, "I don’t care about this." If no one’s shown them how Frankenstein is the OG sci-fi horror, or that poetry is basically rap battling, why would they care?

But here’s the secret: most of the time, it’s not boredom. Most avoid reading because it’s hard.

Reading feels like wading through treacle, the words feel like an uphill battle, and for many—like my son—reading is physically exhausting. After eye surgery as a child, he had to work twice as hard to stop words from blurring. Sentences didn’t stick, and by the end of a paragraph, he’d forgotten the beginning.

Reading wasn’t an adventure; it was a chore.

For students with dyslexia, it’s the same struggle—every sentence a puzzle, every paragraph a marathon.

And when something is that difficult, why on earth would you choose to do it in your spare time?

Now, a well-told story goes a long way. Hurrah for audiobooks! They’re our go-to for many long car journeys, turning the ride into an adventure as we listen, undisturbed, and debate what might happen next at the service station.

But, even listening to Macbeth isn’t the same—it's all about the action, the blood, and the wild-eyed witches.

You need to see it performed.

Go on, dust off that Halloween outfit, put on your best witchy accent, and recruit volunteers for wooden spoon thunder effects.

Watching a play before reading it can actually help decode the words. Seeing it come to life visually can be the secret that sparks a reluctant reader’s interest.

The BBC’s Pride & Prejudice is a perfect gateway to Austen—especially when you follow up with a lighthearted text chat.

It may not improve your spelling, but it’s a fun way to engage with the text and meet those nifty parallel parkers on their level.

We then get to a stumbling block for all.

Even the most avid readers, those who devour books like they’re going out of style, might still feel like they’ve been asked to solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded when faced with an unseen poem on their exam paper.

So, how do we crack the code ?

Literary gold hack #1: Tackle the escape room

GCSE English comprehension isn’t just about reading words; it’s about spotting patterns and clues—what’s said and what’s implied.

Unseen texts are like escape rooms—clues everywhere, but no map to guide you.

The key is to actively engage with the text, like you're on a scavenger hunt for meaning.

When you read about a dark and stormy night, the vision of the family dressed in Halloween outfits dancing around the cooker will bring a smile, and keep you going.

Chunk up the scavenger hunt to save that brainpower spent on decoding words:

• Highlight like a maniac. Key phrases, repeated words, suspiciously dramatic sentences—mark them all.
• Write something in the margins. One-word summaries, emoji reactions, whatever stops the page from looking like an intimidating wall of text.
• Guess what’s coming next. Before turning the page, pause. Predict. Is disaster imminent? A dramatic confession? Engaging with the text actively makes it stick.

Now, you’ve saved some mental energy to analyse what’s actually going on.

Literary gold hack #2: Analyse like a pro

Reading and analysing are two different beasts.

To analyse like a pro, go beyond decoding words—dissect them like a scientist studying rare specimens.

Start by learning as many language devices as you can, then use them. It’s like learning the rules of a game to spot the writer’s strategy. You’d do the same in rugby, spotting the start of a tactical play and intercepting it before it unfolds.

But, how can you spot language devices if you don’t know what they are?

You’ll need to know at least 10 of these inside and out:

Pathetic fallacy, personification, zoomorphism, chremamorphism, simile, metaphor, extended metaphor, oxymoron, juxtaposition, semantic field, sensory writing, rhetorical question, hyperbole, assonance, alliteration, sibilance, emotive language, onomatopoeia, rule of three, imagery, repetition, nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, colloquial language, euphemism, hypophora, satire, symbolism, anecdote, anaphora, epistrophe, tmesis, cliche, paradox, imperative, diction, plosive, cacophony, anastrophe, humour, anachronism, aporia, hubris, superlative, motif, and irony.

Not sure what some of those terms mean? No problem! Drop me a message (subscribe and reply to my welcome email), and I’ll send you a short, easy-to-digest video that will make you eager to start using them yourself!

Though, I’ll admit, explaining irony with examples is probably best done by Alanis Morissette’s "Ironic."

So pick the most familiar or intriguingly named of these devices—play around with them. Make some up over breakfast, drop them into conversation—your mum will totally appreciate the metaphor in your next text.

Practicing your game skills before the real match.

The Challenge (Because You Love a Bit of Drama)

I dare you—yes, dare you—to retell your favourite book (nonfiction counts too) as if narrating it to a five-year-old. Over-the-top voices. Wild gestures. Maximum enthusiasm.

Then, pick one passage—your favourite line, paragraph, or scene—and read it together. What makes it amazing? The tension? The absurdity? The best insult ever? (Shakespeare, by the way, was the original king of passive-aggressive shade.)

If this article made you smile, roll your eyes, or at least consider picking up a book—share it with someone else.

Dive in with enthusiasm, make pages come alive for those around you.

Because reading should feel like the joy of unlocking a mystery, not serving a sentence.

Until next time,

Nici

P.S.

The Easter holidays are here! Hooray!

Time to eat your weight in chocolate eggs, sleep in (a little), and pretend you’re on a permanent vacation.

I won’t be posting for the next two weeks, but my inbox is always open. I read and reply to every email—yes, even the ones that start with “Hey, quick question!”

Catch you after Easter!