Audiobooks vs. Direct Reading – A Case for Why They’re Not So Easily Divided

Summary:

Audiobooks, to me, are not considered “reading”—and that’s perfectly okay. Instead of being seen as a lesser form of engagement, audiobooks continue a much deeper tradition rooted in human history. Perhaps it’s time to establish a new term for audiobooks—something like experiencing or consuming a book—rather than equating them with reading.

In this article, I aim to explore the topic without taking a side but instead highlighting the ways audiobooks exist within a broader storytelling tradition.

Sections:

• The Initial Argument
• The Cognitive Experience of Audiobooks vs. Reading
• Performance vs. Personal Interpretation
• Immersion and Control
• The Divide Between Audiobook Listeners and Traditional Readers

The Initial Argument

Many people perceive a divide between reading and listening to books, often treating the two as fundamentally unequal. Some may even look down on audiobook listeners for not properly engaging with the text. However, audiobooks hold a strong and necessary place in human storytelling traditions.

For example, consider the oral tradition of storytelling—a practice as old as human civilization. When parents read bedtime stories to children, is that not just a live version of an audiobook? Does the fact that it happens in person change the fundamental experience? The act of transmitting stories vocally has existed for thousands of years, warning early human groups of dangers, passing myths between generations, and strengthening cultural identity. Whether it’s a grandparent recounting a tale, a child whispering ghost stories on the playground, or a professional narrator performing a novel, audiobooks are simply a modern version of what humanity has always done: tell stories aloud.

Folktales: The Original Novellas

Folktales are structured remarkably like short novellas—they have a beginning, middle, and end, develop key characters, and often impart a moral lesson. Yet they survive primarily through oral transmission rather than written text. Parents pass them down to children, never needing a printed version, and the stories shift over time based on who tells them.

Unlike written books, these tales naturally evolve—details change based on the audience or environment, meaning we experience an ongoing update to the story in real time. This adaptability strengthens engagement rather than diminishing it. A listener will often ask questions, dissect meanings, and “read between the lines” just as a traditional reader would. The existence of folktales alone reinforces the validity of audiobooks as a legitimate way to experience stories.

Religious Texts: The Power of Spoken Word

Audiobooks of religious works are a natural extension of a process that has existed for centuries. Many religious traditions place high importance on spoken-word storytelling. In Christianity, early monks were forbidden from learning to read—they had to listen to texts being read aloud to fully absorb their meaning. The spoken word plays a major role in spiritual engagement, reinforced by sermons, hymns, and communal readings.

In many ways, religious storytelling is closer to audiobooks than to solo reading—the auditory element shapes interpretation, deepens emotional connection, and brings the text to life in a way that silent reading cannot replicate. For individuals who follow religious traditions, this argument should already be won: audiobooks and traditional books stand in parity within an established system of spoken literature.

Now to delve deeper, we'll break this into the sections from above.

The Cognitive Experience of Audiobooks vs. Reading

As we move past the debate over the value of audiobooks, it's worth examining why some people struggle with them or feel they don’t provide the same depth as traditional reading. A significant factor—one I personally face—is the ability to retain and focus on the story.

For example, when I drive, I can’t absorb an audiobook any more than I could read memes or browse Reddit during a business meeting. My attention divides too easily, making it difficult to engage with the book fully. This might be due to age, a shift in cognitive processing, or simply a lack of practice in multitasking with auditory information. But for others, this isn’t an issue—many people can listen to audiobooks effortlessly, process the content, and discuss it just as they would with a printed book.

Why Some People Tune Out Audiobooks

For some, listening to an audiobook is effortless. But for others—especially those who struggle with auditory focus—the experience can feel like juggling multiple conversations at once. Imagine being at work, where two coworkers approach and start talking about different topics. Or maybe you're engaged in a conversation while another group nearby has their own discussion. The ability to tune out background noise is a learned skill, one we unconsciously develop to maintain focus.

With reading, however, we control the pace—our finger follows the lines, our eyes re-scan, and we naturally re-process words that don’t immediately stick. Audiobooks remove this tactile control, meaning focus depends entirely on auditory engagement. If distractions arise, there’s no simple way to pause and reorient like there is with a physical book.

A Different Kind of Cognitive Engagement

Meanwhile, audiobook listeners may have a more fluid or adaptive cognitive style—some can absorb the book passively while multitasking, while others actively engage by talking aloud or forming mental connections in real-time. Some listeners even interact with audiobooks by responding to narration aloud, reinforcing comprehension through engagement

For me, audiobooks require deep concentration, whereas reading comes naturally. I don’t need the same level of focus to track a story visually as I do when listening to one. This difference suggests that the way we process information fundamentally shifts depending on the medium—reading is structured, while listening is immersive but requires a different kind of cognitive flexibility.

As we move away from the oral traditions that once defined storytelling, we enter increasingly structured environments—where meetings are reduced to bullet points and written communication dominates. In this shift, audiobooks might not just serve as an alternative format, but as a tool to rebuild skills in attentive listening, verbal comprehension, and even conversational engagement. This opens up a larger discussion about whether audiobooks can actively train the brain to process auditory information more effectively—perhaps even strengthening conversational skills in a world increasingly dominated by text-based communication.

Performance vs. Personal Interpretation

Moving past the cognitive aspects and historical background, it’s crucial to consider the listener’s interaction with an audiobook versus a reader’s engagement with a written text. One of the greatest divides—at least for me—is the issue of voice.

When reading a story, we naturally assign a mental voice, cadence, and personality to characters. One reader might imagine a character as deadpan and stoic, while another sees them as depressed yet hopeful. This internal casting process plays out differently in audiobooks, where a voice actor or actress provides their own interpretation. If the spoken performance doesn’t align with how a reader initially envisioned the character, the disconnect can feel jarring—almost as if it’s an entirely different character.

Even the most skilled audiobook narrators can inadvertently pull a listener out of the story when their rendition clashes with how the reader originally processed the text. For instance, take the famous opening paragraph of David Copperfield:

> "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously."

Would the reader mentally hear this passage in the voice of an old, weathered man? What if it were narrated by a female voice actress attempting a gruff, tired tone? Or delivered with no intonation at all—spoken plainly, like a routine sentence? For audiobook enthusiasts, these variations might pose no issue, but for others, they could break immersion immediately. And once immersion is broken, regaining it can be an uphill battle.

When Familiarity Disrupts the Experience

Personally, tone and speaker choice play a huge role in my ability to engage with an audiobook. A perfect example: I once purchased an audiobook read by Felicia Day, an actress I admire and who I knew was passionate about the story. However, this was a book I was already deeply familiar with—a novel in the Drizzt series. The moment she pronounced the name differently than how I had always read it, I was thrown off. Not because of her performance, skill, or delivery, but simply because it clashed with my long-held internal interpretation of the story’s world.

Would audiobooks be easier to engage with when reading something entirely unfamiliar? Possibly. For avid readers who consume books quickly, this could actually create a unique issue: since audiobooks are often produced based on popularity, a seasoned reader might find themselves with fewer fresh options—and thus more frequent clashes between pre-existing interpretations and audiobook performances.

Immersion and Control

Building on the discussion of performance versus personal interpretation, it naturally leads to the question of control over the reading experience. When holding a physical book, the reader maintains an immense level of control—pacing, internal tone, emotional emphasis, and even the ability to revisit a passage with fresh understanding. If a key moment feels less impactful at first, a reader can flip back and reframe the scene in their mind:

"Ah, I missed that they were having this event! That changes everything—this line should have felt much more dramatic!"

With an audiobook, however, this control shifts entirely to the narrator. A listener can rewind, re-listen, and try to reinterpret the narration, but they can’t easily isolate a single sentence or dwell on a phrase the way a reader can. If a listener doesn’t connect with the narrator’s tone, they might even search for a different voice actor—but finding the exact point in the story can feel cumbersome compared to flipping back a few pages in a book.

The Divide Between Readers and Audiobook Listeners

A dedicated audiobook listener might fully embrace the performance aspect—trusting the narrator’s delivery, absorbing the story without needing to shape it themselves. But an avid book reader may feel that this removes their agency, dictating how they should experience the story. The process of rewinding in an audiobook might feel like a chore rather than an intuitive part of engaging with the text.

For someone already struggling with immersion in audiobooks, this lack of tactile control can become frustrating, reinforcing a sense of inferiority in the format—even if they wouldn’t think twice about experiencing stories through plays or television, where the performance aspect is fully external.

Expanding the Discussion to E-books

Control and immersion don’t just apply to audiobooks—they also extend to e-books. The tactile experience of reading plays a significant role in how people engage with stories. Holding a physical book, flipping through pages, and setting it aside for later creates a sense of interaction that differs from tapping through a screen.

Some readers feel that opening an app or picking up a Kindle lacks the same sensory engagement as holding a book in hand. Meanwhile, audiobook and e-book lovers often view this as an advantage—having instant access to hundreds (or thousands) of books at their fingertips enhances their control over when, where, and how they read.

However, this kind of control is entirely personal—and since feelings and comfort around reading formats can’t be objectively measured, neither can the argument for which method is superior.

The Divide Between Audiobook Listeners and Traditional Readers

After considering all of these arguments, it's clear that the divide between traditional book readers—including e-book readers to a lesser extent—and audiobook listeners runs deep. But, like any deep pool, there is a shallow end where both sides should hopefully agree:

"Consuming the book, supporting the story, and understanding the narrative is a goal we should all share."

Those who are skeptical of audiobooks might feel that this goal isn’t being met in the same way as traditional reading. But as the format continues to grow, it’s hard to argue against its impact—book clubs centered around audiobooks are forming, content creators on media platforms are producing narrated stories, and more books than ever are being experienced through audio.

Audiobooks are undeniably a valid form of engaging with literature. While they may not fit the strict dictionary definition of "reading," the term itself is becoming less relevant in a world where how we consume stories continues to evolve. As always, history moves in cycles—what was once old becomes new again.

At its core, the oral tradition is a foundational part of human storytelling. Folk tales, myths, legends—these stories survived because they were passed down by voice, not text. Audiobooks, in many ways, continue that tradition rather than diverge from it. Listening to a book isn’t cheating, nor is it an inferior experience. If the oral tradition of storytelling were to fade away, cultures around the world would lose something vital—the ability to share stories through voice, preserving emotion, meaning, and connection in ways that text alone sometimes cannot.