Audiobooks Are Books. And I Will Die on This Hill.
There are two types of people in this world.
The first type says, “I just finished a book.”
The second type asks, “Did you read it or listen to it?”
To which I would like to respond, “Did you consume the story with your brain? Then congratulations—we’re discussing the same thing.”
Somewhere along the way, audiobooks became the literary equivalent of using the moving sidewalk at the airport. Apparently, if you don’t physically turn pages, make eye contact with the words, and risk a paper cut every now and then, your reading experience doesn’t count.
I reject this nonsense.
Audiobooks are books.
They contain the same characters, the same plot twists, the same devastating endings that leave you staring blankly into space questioning all your life choices. The villain is still the villain. The book boyfriend is still the book boyfriend. The cliffhanger still ruins your entire week.
The delivery method doesn’t change the story.
In fact, for many of us, audiobooks aren’t just a convenience—they’re accessibility.
I have keratoconus, a condition that affects the shape of the cornea and can make reading traditional print difficult, exhausting, or downright miserable. On some days, words blur. On other days, my eyes decide they’ve worked hard enough and would like to file a formal complaint.
Audiobooks allow me to enjoy stories without the strain. They let me keep reading when my eyes would rather negotiate a shorter workweek.
And honestly? That’s kind of magical.
Because books have always been about stories. Long before people curled up with paperbacks and Kindle devices, stories were spoken aloud around fires, shared in gathering places, and passed from one generation to the next through voices.
If anything, audiobooks are a return to one of the oldest forms of storytelling we have.
Besides, let’s not pretend listening to a 17-hour fantasy novel while folding laundry, driving to work, grocery shopping, and pretending to exercise is somehow taking the easy route. That’s commitment.
That’s multitasking at an Olympic level.
The audiobook debate always makes me laugh because nobody questions how someone consumed a movie.
Imagine it:
“Oh, you’ve seen The Godfather?”
“Well, technically I streamed it.”
“Ah. So you didn’t really watch it.”
Ridiculous.
The legendary author and storyteller Neil Gaiman once said:
“Stories may be changed by the medium through which they are delivered, but they remain stories.”
Exactly.
The format may change. The experience may feel different. But the story still reaches the reader—or listener—and leaves its mark.
So whether you’re carrying around a hardcover that could double as a home-defense weapon, reading on a Kindle at 2 a.m., or listening to an audiobook narrated by someone whose voice you would gladly allow to read your grocery list, you’re still reading.
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