Why & how I take reading notes by hand

On using friction in self-study to filter material and promote deeper reflection and retention.

My relationship with note-taking is a lot like my first serious high school relationship.

On again, off again. At times overwhelming. Characterized by moments of doubt about whether it’s worth the effort and whether I’m doing it right.

Over the years, through trial and error, break ups and reconciliation, my note taking habits for reading have evolved considerably.

Perhaps the biggest and most impactful change has been my recent move away from digital to pen-and-paper note-taking

In this article, I’ll share what led me to make this change and how it’s helped me take better notes and memorize more of what I read. I’ll also share my note-taking process and cover why friction and slowness are often preferable to speed and efficiency in self-directed study.

My tumultuous relationship with digital note-taking

When I first started reading seriously, I didn’t take any notes, aside from occasional scribbles in the margins.

However, as I grew as a reader and began encountering the note-taking practices of my favorite authors and thinkers, I started to become fearful about how little I was retaining from each book.

Predictably, I overcorrected. In an effort to capture everything, I started taking notes in a Google Doc. It was so easy and fast to type out the passages that I thought important.

The result?

I was collecting a lot of notes, like one note for every page. In other words…far too many.

There were so many notes, in fact, that I never returned to review them. The sheer number of the notes past Sam had written was overwhelming. Opening the document sent me spiraling into a panic. All those words — how on earth was I to internalize all this?

The problem was exacerbated when I read books on my computer (which I do from time to time for my neck). The copy and paste function made note-taking even easier. I remember reading The Closing of the American Mind. By the end of the first chapter, I had copied and pasted several pages of notes into the Google Doc.

My notebook, then, was essentially a slightly shorter version of the books I was reading, rendering the note-taking process absolutely useless. As a rule, when you try to remember everything from a book, you often end up remembering nothing.

About six months ago, aware of how terrible my note-taking and review process was, I broke up with the note-taking. I swore it off. And I decided to just focus on underlining in the books.

That is, until, I came across some advice from a favorite YouTuber.

My current process for analog note-taking

Over the years, I’ve followed a YouTuber and philosopher called ParkNotes.

He has hundreds of hand-written notebooks — general commonplace books, subject notebooks, pocket journals, and more for various purposes.

After years of ignoring his advice, thinking it’d be too slow and disorganized to take notes by hand, I decided to start taking notes by hand.

I started by creating subject-based notebooks for the different subjects I knew I’d be studying over the next few years (aligning with the goals outlined in my self-education compass):

• Autodidactism — on books related to self-directed study, reading, learning, and classical/liberal arts education, and polymathy.

• Politics — notes on books of political theory and contemporary political issues.

• Literature — contains the finest passages I come across (and my thoughts these passages generate), culled from classic novels, autobiographies, poems, and other literary forms.

• History — for when I read history books.

These notebooks are basic commonplace books for capturing the most important passages, ideas, and quotes I want to remember and use in my writing (or life).

My primary goal for the system was absolute simplicity, as simple habits are easier to stick to.

My hand-written note-taking process for self-study

• Pick the journal: When I start a new book, I grab the right subject notebook and write the book’s title.

• Take notes: As I read, I jot down quotes that resonate with me, and keep them organized by chapter title. Sometimes, I’ll read the book and just do underlining and marginalia. Then, when I’m finished with the book, I’ll re-read the marginalia and transcribe only the most valuable passages to the notebook. Sometimes I’ll write the ideas in my own words or use diagrams to express them.

• Mark where I found it: Mark each quote with the page number. Just in case I want to go back and get more context.

• Reflect: Underneath each quote, jot down a quick reflection (if I have one). Sometimes these reflections are analyses of the writing (if it’s fiction I’m reading). For non-fiction, they sometimes bud into article ideas. Often, I’m just connecting the idea to something I already know, thus pushing it deeper into my memory.

The system is insanely elementary, and I love it.

Plus, it satisfies the 3 functions I need in a note-taking system:

• A forcing mechanism for reflecting on what I’ve read, thus improving retention and creative association.

• A moderately organized collection of quotes to memorize or return to for writing, conversation, and creative thinking.

• A notebook that I want to open up and review when I’m lounging around, hopefully more than I want to doom scroll. (digital notebooks don’t call to me in the same way, plus I’m sick of being on my computer/phone)

Now, I’d like to share some observations about how it’s been better for me than digital note-taking.

3 ways taking notes by hand is beneficial intellectually

1. It’s a filtering mechanism

The slowness and friction of writing notes by hand ensures I collect only the best, most relevant quotes. Unlike when using a computer, copying down a passage is a serious time and energy commitment.

I often stop and think:

• “Is this really worth spending five minutes writing down in my notebook?”

• “Is there enough wisdom or beauty in here to warrant my hand cramping up a little?”

This helps me separate the wheat from the chaff — the quotes I’ll use one day for my writing and the ones I probably won’t, the passages that sing true to my heart and the ones that are just well-written.

As Sertillanges said, “A thinker is like a filter, in which truths as they pass through leave their best substance behind.”

With hand-written notes, I’m a better filter. With digital, I become a greedy addict, pulling in every sentence that slightly arouses my intellect or tickles my heart.

The result is that, with hand-written notes, I end up taking a lot fewer notes.

But they’re all 9s or 10s.

When I go back to review them, or dig through my notes for an article, I’m only striking gold. Like the lines in a Bon Iver song, each sentence makes me reflect and contemplate deeply. The notes are a better representation of my taste, of what matters to me, than when I use digital.

2. Slowness promotes deeper reflection

In addition to helping me be more selective in what I decide to capture, the slowness of handwritten notes also forces me to spend more time with each quote or idea I’m jotting down, probably 4x as long as if I were to type it out.

Have you marinated a chicken thigh for 1 hour? How about 4 hours? There’s a significant difference in flavor.

It’s the same for reflection. The more my mind meditates on an idea, the deeper it gets into my sinews and marrow, changing me from the inside.

Now, there’s another benefit as well.

Analog note-taking gives self-directed study a romantic feel, and this keeps me excited to take my notes. And that’s no small thing, fueling the obsession. That’s big when the world is trying to pull you in seven directions at once.

Speaking of distractions, hand-written notes also give me a break from the screens, which dominate my day, something we all need a break from.

3. The system is simple (when life is complex)

We tend to stick to habits that are simple in execution.

If something is too complicated, with lots of overhead and processes, we often give up.

Perhaps then, the strongest advantage of my current hand-written note-taking system is that, despite being slow, it’s easy to start.

All you need is a notebook, a pen, and the power of scrutiny. There’s no software to learn. No workflows other than writing the note down and looking over them every now and then (something I should likely do more of).

Once you start to encounter problems with the system, that's when you upgrade — when you think “I wish it did X!”

That’s when you start using a color-code system or some sort of index. But until your work or intellectual life demands such alterations, you don’t need them. It’s like a solopreneur starting with a Customer Relationship Management Software that’s designed for enterprise brands when all they need is something to track their clients' names and emails.

Rejecting efficiency and embracing slowness

Efficiency is the crown jewel of the modern age.

WORKism, the new religion of our microwavable society, has turned us into efficiency-seekers, always looking for ways to speed things up, even in our hobbies. The attitude that time wasted equals money wasted is ingrained in us from the moment we join the workforce.

I think this philosophy is something we should resist.

Quality takes time. Try scrambling an egg on high heat in front of a French chef. Watch how they curse and threaten you with their knife.

In note-taking for self-study, I’ve started to embrace a slower by-hand approach, as it prompts more reflection and acts as a better filter than its digital counterpart.

If you’ve struggled with digital note-taking like I have, or simply want a break from your screens, I recommend experimenting with hand-written notebooks.

You may find it to be the change you need to start a more consistent, fulfilling note-taking practice that serves your self-education and reading life.