Reading While Neurodivergent: A Librarians Guide to Loving Books on Your Own Terms

I decided audiobooks absolutely counted, not as cheating, but as reading in a different key.

The model we call “good reading” is neurotypical reading. It assumes a brain that can sustain focus in long, quiet stretches. It assumes a taste for certain genres and formats over others. It assumes a clean memory and a steady pace. It does not account for wandering attention, or sensory overwhelm, or the comfort of repetition. It doesn’t make room for audiobooks or fanfiction, or the way a comic book’s art carries half the story. It doesn’t acknowledge the stop-and-start rhythm of someone reading through depression, or the compulsion of someone who can’t move on until they’ve reread the same passage enough times to feel sure they’ve “gotten it right.” It excludes more readers than it includes.

When I realized this in my early diagnosis days, I stopped trying to fix myself to fit the rules. I gave myself permission to quit books whenever I needed. I decided audiobooks absolutely counted, not as cheating, but as reading in a different key. I embraced rereads as a form of care, not a waste of time. I let myself read out of order, skip around, skim, and double back. The strange part is, when I stopped holding myself to those old standards, my reading life expanded. I fell back in love with books—not as assignments, not as tests of discipline, but as companions I could meet on my own terms.

Now I’m thrilled to be able to let my students give themselves permission to read wildly and without judgment. When someone tells me they’re not really a reader, I get to tell them they already are. Reading manga counts. Listening to audiobooks counts. Picking up a stack of picture books in high school counts. Taking three months to finish one fantasy novel counts. Every way of engaging with stories is real and valuable, whether it looks like the stereotype or not.

Reading isn’t about discipline or performance. It isn’t about how many books you finish or whether you’re caught up on the year’s prizewinners. It’s about connection. And once you let yourself dismantle the idea of neurotypical reading, you get to build a relationship with books that is joyful and sustaining, not shame-filled.

If you need a guide to start, here are three things I hold on to:

1. All formats count. Audiobooks, graphic novels, ebooks, fanfiction—if it gives you story, it’s reading.
2. You don’t have to finish. Skim, skip, reread, quit. Books don’t expire if you leave them half-read.
3. Joy matters more than rules. If your way of reading brings you back to books instead of pushing you away, then it’s the right way.

Books are not judging you. They’re companions, waiting for you in whatever way you’re able to meet them. However you read, and however often, you are already a reader.