The Myth of a Declining Reading Culture

Although it has become something of a national truth, certain recent events have made me ponder the claim that Nigerians don’t read. 

One of the reasons given to validate this condescending proposition is a decline in the number of people who buy and read physical books. There’s a chance that people indeed read more physical books, especially of the literary genre, at a point in Nigeria’s evolution, but does this reduction, even if it exists, automatically suggest that we have lost the reading culture? I think not. 

What I would have expected is that we interrogate the situation rather than assume that the reading culture is becoming extinct. But we are more focused on pontificating than diagnosing and problem-solving. That’s our default.

Beyond Physical Books: Reading in a Changing World

If the diminishing purchase and physical handling of books are why we assume that Nigerians are reading less, then we must understand that reading, like every culture, is dynamic. It shifts with technology, economy and generational preferences. So, while reading might mean sitting with a hardcover novel without blinking for three days, 20 years ago, it might now mean reading that same novel on an electronic device, or even just exchanging ideas, stories, and other information with contemporaries on social media. The important thing is that some learning takes place. 

The Structural Barriers to Reading

That is not to mention the numerous structural impediments that succeeding generations of Nigerians face. The continued increase in the cost of books means that most citizens must choose between their love for books and their pressing life needs. Access to books is restricted, and libraries are a rarity, as the few one around exist in cities where only a minority of Nigerians reside. These challenges certainly make reading feel like a luxury for many.

Rethinking the Assumption

Yet, reading is still alive in Nigeria, even among millennials and other youths, many of whom we have written off as incapable of rigorous intellection and appreciation of history. And, in this,
I mean voluntary and recreational reading including fictional and non-fictional literature. 

Yes, the challenges still exist, but readers continue to find ways to engage with stories—especially African stories. From Lagos to Abuja, from Kaduna to Port Harcourt, and from Maiduguri to Owerri, young people periodically come together in book clubs to read, discuss, and critique the works of an ever-increasing number of literary voices in the country. 

The growing number of writers in Nigeria per time can itself only be a testament to a receptive and appreciative audience. Before 2022, for instance, Damilare Kuku only featured on the radio and in films. Today, just three years later, she’s the author of two successful literary works (a collection of short stories and a novel) with a third book, her second novel, due for release soon. Those publications (especially her debut) were purchased by Nigerians, before the acclaim that now makes her an “international best-selling author.”

And such patronage is not restricted to fictional books. We should recall the fiasco that occurred when Roving Heights Bookstore ran out of copies of Dele Farotimi’s Nigeria and Its Criminal Justice System in June 2024. Simon Kolawole’s Fellow Nigerians, it’s all Politics: Perspectives on the Nigerian Project, and Hadiza Bala Usman’s Stepping on Toes, My Odyssey at the Nigerian Ports Authority, and other non-fiction publications have also, to my knowledge, attained sale milestones that attest to the hunger of Nigerians for quality literature.
And when you consider attendance at book festivals like the Ake Arts and Books Festival, the Lagos Book and Arts Festival (LABAF) and the Quramo Festival of Words, among others in the country, you’ll think twice about joining the bandwagon saying Nigerians don’t read. I am not saying we are at our best, but I am saying that we aren’t addressing the real problems, and we should. 

A Question Worth Asking

So, what do you think? Do Nigerians read less—or are we simply reading differently? I’d love to hear your perspective. Hit “reply” to this email and share your thoughts—I read every response.