Entertainment has changed a lot since I was a kid. Back then, the TV only had three network channels plus PBS. There was no internet or cell phones, and to watch movies, we either went to the theater or rented VHS tapes. Listening to music meant relying on parents to buy the occasional record, tape, or CD, or making mixtapes from the radio. Books, though, haven’t changed, yet people are reading far less now than they did then.

I fondly remember the books I read as a young kid. I grew up reading the books of Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary. I still remember how special I felt when someone gave me their copy of James and the Giant Peach and explained how much it meant to them as a child. Nancy Drew showed me that life can be exciting. My sheltered childhood exponentially expanded through reading.

As a young teenager, the realities of adulthood showed themselves to me through the books I read. Like many Gen X kids, I had unsupervised freedom, including in the books I chose. I read the steamy Flowers in the Attic series and discovered new fears through Stephen King, who became my favorite author. I learned about the adult world through books.

Then, in high school, luckily, I was required to read even more. Schools were not yet slaves to standardized tests, so we read the classics in their entirety from Dickens and Shakespeare to Harper Lee. I even took the initiative to read Les Misérables on my own, which felt like a personal achievement.

Although my reading habits have ebbed and flowed over the years, adulthood has not diminished my love for books. In fact, I appreciate slowing down to read now more than ever. I admire people like Bill Gates who read voraciously and continually grow through books.

For kids growing up without reading, their knowledge of the world can remain narrow and their imagination can be stifled. For adults who stop reading, the loss is also significant, both individually and to society.

I’ve read a lot of books over the past several months, many of which were impactful, but none have seemed as important as Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. Frankl, a psychiatrist from Vienna, wrote the book in nine days after his liberation from four Nazi concentration camps. His book is both a memoir of unimaginable suffering and a guide to finding meaning in life. During his three years in the camps, the Nazis took the lives of most of his family: his wife, parents, and brother. His book is not only about his survival and resilience but also about finding meaning in any circumstance, even in the most horrendous ones.

I initially picked up this book selfishly, hoping to gain insight into finding meaning, but it turned out to be much more. So importantly, it reminded me of a shocking time in history that doesn’t seem to get talked about that much anymore. The atrocities of the Holocaust risk being forgotten as the generation who lived through them dies. Frankl’s generosity in writing this book ensures the lessons of the Holocaust endure for everyone who reads it. Like so many important books, history persists through it, a reminder of what should never be repeated.

But there’s an obvious caveat: the lessons will be forgotten unless they are read, and reading has become increasingly difficult in a world full of distractions. As a society that needs to continue progressing and learning from past mistakes, we must cultivate a love of reading in both children and adults. Books offer vital lessons, reveal life’s possibilities, and help us develop empathy. For the good of both ourselves and society as a whole, we need to step back from technology, even if just a little, and commit to reading the lessons found in the many books graciously given to us.