As the calendar flips to 2026, many people are setting ambitious goals for fitness, diet, and productivity, but a group of dedicated readers and academics is turning the spotlight on a quieter pursuit: enhancing their literary habits. In a recent article published by The Conversation, six experts from universities across Australia shared their personal reading resolutions, emphasizing quality over quantity and integration into daily life. These resolutions range from ditching smartphones before bed to immersing in niche genres and supporting independent publications, offering inspiration for book lovers worldwide as they craft their own plans for the year ahead.
Michael Noetel, an associate professor in the school of psychology at the University of Queensland, highlighted the pervasive distraction of mobile devices in his quest for better reading routines. "My reading resolution is to finally leave my phone at the front door," Noetel wrote. He described his phone as "the one thing thwarting my reading goals," despite previous efforts like deleting his Facebook account, installing content blockers, and enabling 'sleep focus' mode. Noetel recounted how his "tired brain can outsmart my best intentions," likening the pull of swiping and tapping to a dopamine rush that leaves bedside books untouched, much like "Miss Havisham’s wedding cake" from Charles Dickens' Great Expectations. To combat this, he has removed chargers from the bedroom, purchased a $5 reading light, and publicly committed to the change by telling his wife and posting online, declaring, "No more phones in bed."
Shifting focus to thematic deep dives, Liz Evans, an adjunct researcher in English and Writing at the University of Tasmania, plans to immerse herself in music memoirs and writing craft books tied to her upcoming project on her experiences as a rock journalist in 1990s London. Evans listed specific titles topping her 2026 reading list, including Melissa Auf Der Maur’s Even the Good Girls Will Cry, which covers her time with Hole and the Smashing Pumpkins; The Royal We by Roddy Bottum, the queer icon and former Faith No More member; and A Screaming Life by Soundgarden’s Kim Thayil. She noted personal connections, saying, "I interviewed all of these musicians and their bands back in the day, and I can’t wait to read their perspectives on that incredible era." Evans highlighted Thayil's unusual background as "probably the only rock star I met who had a philosophy degree," and Bottum's openness as "one of the few openly bisexual musicians I knew in that world." Complementing these, she anticipates Into Being: The Radical Craft of Memoir and its Power to Transform by Lily Dunn and Lauren Elkin’s forthcoming Vocal Break, a memoir and feminist manifesto on the female singing voice.
Julian Novitz, a senior lecturer in writing at Swinburne University of Technology, expressed frustration with his longstanding goal of reading more New Zealand fiction, admitting he only managed one such novel in 2025: Catherine Chidgey’s Book of Guilt. "More New Zealand fiction has been my regular, yearly reading resolution for the past decade or so," Novitz said, but he aims to read "at least two or more" in 2026, with Carl Shuker’s acclaimed A Mistake and The Royal Free already on his shelf. Extending his ambitions to audio formats, Novitz plans to swap gym-time podcasts for audiobooks, currently working through R.F. Kuang’s works, Ben Aaronovich’s Rivers of London series, Mick Herron’s early detective novels from the Slow Horses author, and Caitlín R. Kiernan’s "mesmerising cosmic horror." This shift, he noted, is "less of a reading and more of a listening goal."
For Gemma Nisbet, a lecturer in professional writing and publishing at Curtin University, 2026 marks a year dedicated to the works of Rebecca Solnit, building on her recent habit of exploring an author's full back catalog to trace evolving ideas and craft. Nisbet reflected on her 2025 focus on Janet Malcolm, whose longform nonfiction grapples with "complex ethical questions relating to journalism, biography and the tricky business of representing real life in sharp, compelling prose." She added, "I didn’t always agree with her, but I always find her work worth reading." Solnit, a longtime favorite whose 2013 hybrid memoir The Faraway Nearby influences Nisbet’s current work-in-progress, has a prolific output that leaves "plenty of gaps to fill in her bibliography." Nisbet values how authors like Solnit "circle around a central set of concerns over the course of a career, coming at the questions that animate their work from different angles and approaches."
Penni Russon, a senior lecturer in writing and publishing at Monash University, is resolving to seek out more literary journals and zines that embody "quiet resistance to the status quo, through material form as much as content." A recent favorite was Chelsea Hart’s 2023 essay With Love, and Labour, published by Rosa Press, which explores sex work and capitalism in a "slim, grey, staple-bound pamphlet" acquired at Sticky Institute’s Festival of the Photocopier in Melbourne. Russon declared, "I’m here for the zines, chapbooks, literary magazines: treasures that bear the traces of their making." Her approach underscores a commitment to independent and alternative publishing, celebrating the tactile and subversive qualities of these formats in an era dominated by digital media.
Hugh Breakey, deputy director of the Institute for Ethics, Governance & Law at Griffith University, acknowledged the pitfalls of rigid reading plans, noting that his 2025 intention to read more fiction and classics succeeded initially but devolved into shorter online pieces. "No reading plan survives contact with reality," Breakey observed, explaining how platforms like Substack offer an "endless stream of intelligent articles and opinion-pieces: catnip for the intellectually curious." However, he lamented that "the sheer convenience of online articles can pull reading time away from book-length works and the depth, breadth (and sometimes grandeur) they offer." As a fiction author and philosopher, Breakey emphasized the need to exercise both "imaginative and intellectual muscles." For 2026, his list includes George Packer’s latest novel The Emergency and the scholarly Persuasion in Parallel, which re-examines political attitude changes. He also plans ergonomic adjustments to his reading space to foster sustained engagement.
These resolutions come at a time when reading goals are increasingly popularized through social media platforms like Goodreads and BookTok, where users often set numerical targets—such as reading 50 books in a year—based on past habits. According to The Conversation article, published on December 20, 2024, such quantifiable aims can overlook broader benefits like reducing screen time or exploring underrepresented voices. The experts' suggestions align with broader trends in wellness and mindfulness, where reading is positioned as a counterbalance to the constant connectivity of modern life. For instance, Noetel's phone-free bedroom initiative echoes recommendations from sleep experts who link blue light exposure to disrupted rest, potentially enhancing both reading and overall health.
The diversity of these goals reflects varying professional backgrounds, from psychology and creative writing to ethics and publishing, all united by a passion for literature's transformative power. Evans' focus on 1990s rock memoirs, for example, not only fuels her personal project but also revives interest in a pivotal era of music history, when grunge and alternative scenes reshaped cultural landscapes in cities like London and Seattle. Similarly, Novitz's push for New Zealand fiction addresses a gap in global literary awareness, as authors like Chidgey and Shuker gain acclaim for tackling themes of identity and society in Aotearoa.
Nisbet's author-deep-dive method offers a model for readers seeking depth amid abundance, especially as prolific writers like Solnit continue to produce influential works on feminism, environment, and storytelling. Solnit's bibliography, spanning essays, memoirs, and activism, has earned her accolades including a 2016 National Book Critics Circle Award, making her a fitting subject for such immersion. Russon's advocacy for zines and journals supports grassroots literary ecosystems, vital in Australia where events like Melbourne's Festival of the Photocopier foster community-driven creativity.
Breakey's critique of short-form content resonates with studies showing that deep reading improves empathy and critical thinking, skills increasingly vital in an information-saturated world. His inclusion of Persuasion in Parallel ties reading to real-world applications in governance and ethics, areas central to his Griffith University role. Collectively, these resolutions challenge the superficiality of some digital reading trends, advocating for intentional, multifaceted engagement with books.
Looking ahead, the experts' plans could inspire broader participation in reading challenges, potentially boosting sales for indie presses and diverse authors. As 2026 unfolds, platforms like The Conversation may track how these goals progress, offering updates on whether ditching phones leads to more pages turned or if Solnit marathons yield new insights. For everyday readers, the message is clear: resolutions need not be grandiose to be meaningful, starting with small shifts like a dedicated reading light or a stack of zines.
In Appleton, where local libraries and bookstores often host New Year's reading workshops, these international perspectives could spark community discussions. The Appleton Times reached out to local librarians, who reported a 15% uptick in resolution-related inquiries last year, suggesting a growing appetite for literary self-improvement. Whether aiming for two Kiwi novels or a phone-free zone, these shared intentions remind us that reading, at its core, is about connection—to stories, ideas, and perhaps even ourselves.