I have been a member of the same public library system since 2014. The card is the oldest thing in my wallet. The card has been renewed twice. The card has generated, by my estimate, somewhere between 600 and 800 loans over twelve years. The estimate was vague. The vagueness bothered me.
In August 2026, I requested a full borrowing history from the library. The library required a photo ID and a signed form. The library processed the request in three weeks. The library emailed a CSV file. The file was twelve years of my reading habits, in a spreadsheet, with the dates and the titles and the format and the branch. The file was the data. The data was more interesting than I expected.
What I expected to find
I expected to find a record of the person I wanted to be. The person reads broadly. The person reads literature. The person finishes what they start. The person reads the books that show up on year-end lists. The person reads nonfiction in long, serious tranches. The person does not read three thrillers in a row when one would be enough.
The data did not show the person I wanted to be. The data showed the person I actually am. The person is messier. The person is more interesting. The person is also more forgivable than the version I had been carrying around in my head.
The biggest surprise: how much fiction I borrow
The fiction share of my borrowing, across twelve years, was 71 percent. The nonfiction share was 22 percent. The poetry share was 4 percent. The graphic novel share was 3 percent. The percentages were stable year over year. The stability surprised me. The stability suggested that the share was not a phase. The share was a feature.
I had been telling myself for years that I was "mostly a nonfiction reader now." The nonfiction share in the last three years was 19 percent. The share was lower than the twelve-year average. The share was, in other words, dropping. The drop happened without my noticing. The noticing happened in the spreadsheet.
The fiction share is not a failure. The fiction share is a strength. The fiction share is where my attention works. The attention works for narrative. The attention does not work for argument, despite years of trying to make it work. The argument books sit on the nightstand. The fiction books get finished on the train. The pattern is the pattern.
The format breakdown
The library offers four formats: print, e-book, audiobook, and large print. The format split in my history was: print 58 percent, e-book 19 percent, audiobook 17 percent, large print 6 percent.
The print share dropped sharply in 2020. The drop was the pandemic. The pandemic pushed everything to digital. The digital format is the e-book. The e-book was, in 2020, the only way to borrow from a closed building. The e-book share spiked. The e-book share then settled back down. The settle was gradual. The settle is still happening.
The audiobook share has been climbing slowly since 2022. The climb is real. The climb reflects my commute, my dog walks, and the dishes. The dishes are the underrated audiobook format. The dishes are twenty minutes. The twenty minutes are enough for a chapter. The chapter is enough to keep me going.
The large print share is concentrated in two specific years. The years were 2023 and 2024. The reason was eye strain from a screen-heavy job. The eye strain made me want bigger type. The bigger type is the large print. The large print is not a downgrade. The large print is a tool. The tool worked for a season. The tool is not needed now.
The branch pattern
I have used four branches over twelve years. The branches changed when I moved. The moves were three. The moves were within the same library system. The library system is the constant. The branches are the satellites.
The branch where I borrow most is the one closest to my current apartment. The branch where I borrow second-most is the one closest to my office. The branch where I borrow third-most is the branch I drive past on weekends. The fourth branch is one I visited exactly twice, in 2014, when I first moved to the city. The branch was a placeholder. The placeholder is still in the data.
The branch pattern suggests that borrowing is proximity-driven. The proximity-driven is not the same as preference-driven. The preference might be for one branch's vibe. The proximity overrides the vibe. The override is fine. The override is how public libraries work. The work is the access.
The unfinished-books problem
The library lets you renew up to three times. The library lets you keep a book for nine weeks, total, before fines start. The library does not track renewals in the public borrowing history. The history only records the borrow and the return. The return is the only signal I have.
The signal I have is that I returned 41 books before the due date in the last three years. The forty-one were finished. The forty-one were finished on time. The forty-one are the ones I remember.
The books I did not finish were not returned late. The books I did not finish were returned on time, unfinished. The returning was a quiet failure. The failure was not recorded as a failure. The failure was recorded as a return. The return was a clean signal. The clean signal hid the messy truth.
The messy truth, based on my reading journal from the same period, is that I started 87 books and finished 62. The completion rate was 71 percent. The completion rate is not bad. The completion rate is also not great. The completion rate hides the books I gave up on after fifty pages. The giving up is the part I should track more honestly. The honesty is the next experiment.
The authors I borrow most
The authors I borrowed most over twelve years, in order, were:
- Hilary Mantel (11 loans)
- Joan Didion (8 loans)
- Tessa Hadley (7 loans)
- Sally Rooney (6 loans)
- Anne Tyler (6 loans)
- Elena Ferrante (5 loans)
- Kazuo Ishiguro (5 loans)
- Marilynne Robinson (5 loans)
- Maggie O'Farrell (5 loans)
- Rachel Cusk (4 loans)
The list is heavy on women writers. The list is heavy on writers interested in domestic interior life. The list is heavy on writers who take domestic life seriously. The list is not what I would have predicted in 2014. The list is exactly what I should have predicted, looking back.
The list also reveals that I read series, not single books. The series reading inflates the count for some writers (Mantel, Ferrante, Rooney). The series reading also means I re-read the same author for years. The years are the relationship. The relationship is the loyalty. The loyalty is the reading.
The writers I expected to see and did not: the thriller writers. The thriller writers are the writers I assumed dominated my borrowing. The thriller writers barely registered. The authors I assumed I was reading were the authors I was buying. The buying was at the bookstore. The borrowing was at the library. The two were different. The two were revealing.
The genres I have spent the least time with
The genres I have spent the least time with: science fiction, fantasy, romance, mystery.
The mystery share is 4 percent. The mystery share is lower than I would have thought. The mystery share is a deliberate gap. The mystery is the genre I avoid on purpose. The avoidance is partly snobbery. The snobbery is something I should name and examine. The examination is ongoing.
The romance share is 6 percent. The romance is the genre I have come around to in the last two years. The coming around was reading Evie Dunmore and Mhairi McFarlane on the recommendation of a friend. The friend was right. The rightness expanded my borrowing. The expansion is recorded.
The science fiction share is 3 percent. The share is too low. The share is a gap I want to close. The closing is a 2027 goal. The goal is concrete. The concrete is "borrow twelve science fiction books in 2027." The twelve is a small number. The small number is the point.
What the data is for
The data is not for judging me. The data is for knowing me. The knowing is the foundation of better choices. The better choices are the next twelve months of borrowing.
The next twelve months, based on the patterns, should include: more poetry (the share is too low, the share has been too low for too long). More fiction from countries I have not visited in print (West African, Korean, Argentinian). More nonfiction that I will actually finish, which means shorter, more concrete, less argument-driven. More audiobooks on the dishes. Fewer books I buy new because I think I should own them. More books I borrow because I want to read them.
The data is also for showing me how stable my taste is. The taste has been stable. The stability is reassuring. The reassurance is that I am not a chaotic reader. The chaos is what the public believes about themselves. The chaos is what the data debunks. The debunking is a relief.
What I am borrowing this month
The current loans, four titles, all fiction, all print.
The first is The Great Fire by Shirley Hazon, a 1963 novel I have been meaning to read for three years. The book came in through the hold queue. The hold queue is the library's quiet gift. The gift is the patience.
The second is Brotherless Night by V. V. Ganeshananthan, the 2023 novel I have been hearing about from three separate friends. The book is the rare novel that has earned its praise. The praise is the consensus. The consensus is real.
The third is The Swallows of Kabul by Yasmina Khadra, which I read in 2004 and am re-reading now in 2026. The re-reading is part of a new policy. The policy is: re-read what mattered. The mattered is what shaped me. The shaping is the point.
The fourth is Foster by Claire Keegan, a 2010 novella I missed when it came out. The missing was a gap. The gap is closed. The closed is the borrow.
The four loans are the new average. The average is what I want the next decade of borrowing to look like. The looking is the data. The data is the practice.
The honest summary
The library borrowing history was a twelve-year mirror. The mirror was unflattering in places. The unflattering was useful. The useful is the point of looking at data about yourself. The looking is what most of us avoid. The avoidance is what keeps us guessing about our own patterns. The guessing ends when you ask for the CSV.
The recommendation, if you want to try this: ask your library for your borrowing history. The library will require some paperwork. The paperwork is the price. The price is worth the data. The data is the real version of your reading life. The life is the practice. The practice is what you actually do, not what you tell yourself you do.
The telling is what keeps us stuck. The data is what sets us free. The freedom is small. The freedom is also the truth. The truth is what I am reading. The reading is what I am borrowing. The borrowing is the practice. The practice is what I have, in the data, finally seen.