‘Equal footing,equal voice’: Recognition of self and other in Shared Reading for people with lived experience of mental distress

Abstract

Over the last two decades evidence has been mounting for the effectiveness of arts interventions as public health measures. With mental health services under-resourced and overwhelmed by need, support is growing for a diversity of non-clinical approaches to support individuals in community settings. In their declaration of the organisation’s collective vision, the Victorian Mental Illness Awareness Council (VMIAC) emphasises the need for diverse forms of support beyond traditional biomedical services. This paper reports on findings from a pilot Shared Reading intervention, conducted in partnership with VMIAC in 2023, for people who have lived experience of mental distress in Victoria, Australia. Shared Reading is a form of interactive, creative bibliotherapy that combines the benefits of engaging with literature with those of taking part in a communal activity. In-depth interviews with participants revealed that multiple levels of recognition made this non-clinical activity therapeutic for participants. Utilising Honneth’s theory of recognition, these findings expand conceptual understandings of the therapeutic effects of Shared Reading as a psychosocial intervention for people with experiences of mental distress.

Introduction

When asked why they read fiction, a common response from readers is that it allows them to step into the shoes of another. A compelling story or an evocative poem draws the reader into the lives and emotions of others. As Felski (2008: 132) suggests, literature can both broaden our horizons and deepen our understanding of everyday experiences; it can ‘expand, enlarge, or reorder our sense of how things are’. This shift in perspective can lead to changes in a person’s understanding of their own sense of self and their place in the social world. In their recent research into Shared Reading groups with young people with lived experience of mental illness in Denmark, Christiansen and Dalsgård (2022) found that the slight shifts in self-concept participants experienced while reading and discussing texts were significant, since ‘even an isolated and momentary transformation of one’s sense of self may hold a potential and allow one to carry on’ (Christiansen and Dalsgård, 2022: 304). As psychotherapist Moore (1994: viii) suggests, ‘slight shifts in imagination have more impact on living than major efforts at change. . .deep changes in life follow movements in imagination.’

Shared Reading is a particular kind of bibliotherapy in which groups of people meet regularly with a facilitator to listen to literary fiction and poetry being read aloud and to reflect on the texts in relation to their own experiences. This article reports on the findings of a Shared Reading pilot project for people with lived experience of mental distress in Victoria, Australia. The researchers worked with the Victorian Mental Illness Awareness Council (VMIAC) to design the research and co-facilitate the reading groups. At the end of the programme, participants were invited to take part in in-depth interviews. Reflecting on her experience, one of the participants remarked that:

The Shared Reading group offered far more to me in a few weeks, than decades in the mental health system.

This article explores why this might be the case or, to put it another way, it asks: what are the potential therapeutic effects of peer-worker co-facilitated Shared Reading as a non-clinical, psycho-social intervention for those accessing mental health services? In investigating this question, the article begins by summarising the growing role of arts in health promotion before explaining the Shared Reading approach and briefly summarising recent research on its benefits. The methodology of the research is then outlined and the methods described. Next, the findings section explores participants’ experiences of the reading groups and, utilising Honneth’s (1995 [1949]) theory, suggests that multiple levels of recognition—between self and text, individual and the facilitator, and among group members—cultivate an open and egalitarian atmosphere of attentive listening that is experienced as therapeutic. Finally, in the Discussion section we present several critical considerations for practitioners.

Regarding the language used in this article, we have followed the guidelines provided by VMIAC and refer to both mental health ‘consumers’ (where appropriate to the context of the argument) and ‘people with lived experience of mental distress’. This aligns with person-first and recovery-oriented approaches, which have informed mental health policy in Australia for at least 20 years (Hillman et al., 2022; National Mental Health Commission, 2023; Victorian Mental Illness Awareness Council (VMIAC), 2019). These approaches prioritise the dignity of the individual and positive cultures of healing, which are key principles informing the design of this research.

Arts interventions and public health: Shared reading for wellbeing and social inclusion

Over the last two decades evidence has been mounting for the effectiveness of arts interventions as public health measures (Fancourt and Finn, 2019). The World Health Organisation (WHO) notes the benefits of art in health promotion, the management of health conditions and disease prevention, arguing that:

Art can help us to emotionally navigate the journey of battling an illness or injury, to process difficult emotions in times of emergency and challenging events. The creation and enjoyment of the arts helps promote holistic wellness and can be a motivating factor in recovery (World Health Organization (WHO), 2025).

Informed by research from their European Regional Office (Fancourt and Finn, 2019), WHO has been trialling arts interventions to target a range of health goals, including mental health, since 2019. In recent years, the social distancing measures implemented as a response to COVID-19 further highlighted the importance of access to the arts for health, wellbeing and community connection (Wilcox et al., 2021). With mental health services under-resourced and overwhelmed by need (State of Victoria, 2021), calls are growing for a range of non-clinical approaches to support individuals in community settings (O’Donnell et al., 2022). Building on this momentum, the project was conceived as a direct response to the Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System, which urged the creation of innovative, community-based alternatives to conventional clinical services (State of Victoria, 2021). Initiated by VMIAC, the project operationalises its Declaration that consumers ‘want more choice’ and ‘lots of options’ beyond biochemical care (VMIAC, 2019), demonstrating how a peer-lead, arts-based approach can broaden the menu of non-clinical supports available in Victoria.

One example of an arts-based initiative to support individuals in communities is Shared Reading. Originating in the U.K., Shared Reading is a model of interactive, creative bibliotherapy developed by The Reader organisation (Davis et al., 2016), in which groups of people come together under the guidance of a trained facilitator who reads aloud selected texts and excerpts, usually drawn from literary fiction and poetry. The facilitator pauses at various points and invites the group to reflect on the material. Participants often share their own experiences, and the resulting discussion provides a supportive environment for the exploration of challenging emotions. This approach uses literature as ‘a springboard for broader reflections on life and personal experience’ (James et al., 2024: 04) in non-clinical settings. It is different from traditional book clubs as no preparation is required and there is no expectation for participants to speak. It is distinct from self-help and clinical bibliotherapy models, which involve the recommendation of self-help texts by General Practitioners or other medical professionals (Chamberlain et al., 2008). Creative interactive bibliotherapy is a low-cost intervention that combines the benefits of engaging with literature and taking part in a group activity in the community. England’s National Health Service (NHS) partnered with The Reader in 2007 to deliver Shared Reading to Mersey Care inpatients (Billington et al., 2013: 27) and since then has collaborated with The Reader to deliver programmes and assess their efficacy in a range of community and institutional settings (Davis et al., n.d; Järvholm et al., 2025; The Reader Organisation, 2025). Shared Reading has been shown to reduce anxiety and depression (Dowrick et al., 2012; Pettersson, 2022), while increasing feelings of social provision, connectedness and overall wellbeing of participants (Billington, 2019; Davis et al., 2016; James et al., 2024). Following WHO, in this article we conceive of wellbeing broadly, as ‘the ability of people and societies to contribute to the world in accordance with a sense of meaning and purpose’ (WHO, 2021: 10). This definition resonates with a eudaimonic conception of wellbeing to understand the benefits conferred by Shared Reading (Römhild and Turner, 2023), which includes personal growth, active reflection, the development of relationships, community connections and the cultivation of a sense of purpose as vital components of a life well lived (Ryan et al., 2008).

For participants with lived experience of mental distress, research suggests that Shared Reading can support wellbeing in several ways. It offers a supportive and unpressured environment for expressing challenging emotions, with literature functioning as an intermediary object, whilst providing a safe space to test out new ways of relating (Gray et al., 2016). As opposed to traditional support groups where illness is the focus of discussion, in the reading groups participants value the opportunity to talk about themselves more expansively, beyond diagnostic labels (Christiansen and Dalsgård, 2022). As Billington (2016: 132) describes it, Shared Reading groups create ‘a little community . . . whose first concern is the serious business of living’. From the perspective of eudaimonic wellbeing, taking part in a group effort to make sense of a particular text promotes feelings of self-worth and purpose by contributing to meaningful activity in a social setting (Billington et al., 2010).

Methodology and methods

The research took place in the state of Victoria, Australia, in 2023–2024 through a collaboration between the Victorian Mental Illness Awareness Council (VMIAC) and La Trobe University. VMIAC is the peak Victorian organisation for people with lived experience of mental health challenges, advocating for self-determination, human rights and the reform of mental health services to better reflect the needs and voices of consumers. Working with VMIAC in the wake of the COVID 19 pandemic, we designed a pilot project of 12 weeks of Shared Reading for people with lived experience of mental distress, which aimed to foster self-advocacy and wellbeing by providing a space where individuals could engage with literature on their own terms, free from the constraints of diagnostic labels and clinical interventions. This aligned with VMIAC’s (2019) Declaration of their collective vision, which articulates consumers’ desire for diverse forms of support beyond traditional mental health services. The Declaration emphasises the need for a greater range of choices, stating ‘One theme stands above all others in The Declaration: We want more choice. We want lots of options and then to choose what works for us’. The Declaration advocates for a variety of support options, including: ‘[t]herapeutic communities (both peer-run and other) . . . (NOT health clinics, but literally places for community to gather to offer mutual support), learning spaces to explore and understand diverse experiences’. It also envisions a future where individuals ‘stand proud, live a life with choices honoured, rights upheld and these principles are embedded in all aspects of society’ (VMIAC, 2019). The project sought to embody these principles by creating a non-clinical space for collective engagement with literature, where participants could explore diverse experiences, express their perspectives and build connections in an environment of respect and equality. The space we hoped to create resonates with Christiansen’s (2023) concept of reading groups as ‘free space’, where both difference and attunement can be experienced and articulated without pressure to conform as a marker of respect and an expression of inner freedom. Rather than centring on treatment or symptom management, the initiative aimed to affirm the autonomy and agency of participants, offering an experience that was enriching, non-prescriptive and rooted in lived experience expertise.

Our research was also informed by key ‘recovery’ principles (Jacobson and Greenley, 2001), particularly the emphasis on building positive cultures of healing. While recovery remains a contested concept (McCabe et al., 2018), it is generally agreed that recovery-oriented approaches are concerned with cultivating hope, empowerment and connection through inclusive practices, empathy and compassion. In contrast with traditional ‘deficit’ models of mental illness, ‘recovery’ is not synonymous with the cure of illness symptoms. Rather, it is ‘a way of living’, of having a ‘hopeful’ and ‘contributing’ life through developing ‘new meaning and purpose’ (Anthony, 1993: 11). According to Lester and Glasby (2006: 22), service users frequently describe recovery as ‘a process, as a personal journey of making sense of what has happened to them, reconstructing a positive identity, accepting, living with and growing beyond the limits of their mental health problem’. Recovery also concerns moving past, and healing from, experiences of stigma, including the negative and pathologizing effects of psychiatric treatment, reduced employment opportunities and diminished social networks (Lester and Glasby, 2006: 22). Hence, the importance of enabling people in their ‘journeys’ to access and make use of varied sources of support beyond traditional bio-medical interventions.

From mid-September to December 2023, we ran two Shared Reading groups in Melbourne, the most locked-down city in the world during the pandemic (Macreadie, 2022) and one group in a major Victorian regional centre for people with lived experience of mental distress. The groups were advertised through newsletters and mailouts, posters and flyers by VMIAC, La Trobe University and several other mental health organisations as well as libraries and local news outlets. Locations for the groups included VMIAC offices, La Trobe University and a community library. Groups met weekly for 90 minutes and comprised between 3 and 7 participants. Attendance fluctuated significantly depending on the availability and wellness of participants. The groups were run by four facilitators trained in Shared Reading, two of them peer workers with a background in social work. The groups were set up to be facilitated in pairs to ensure a peer worker was always present. Peer workers have become integral to recovery-oriented services in creating an atmosphere of acceptance and social support and role-modelling positive self-disclosure (Davidson et al., 2012; Hillman et al., 2022). To our knowledge, this was the first Shared Reading programme for mental-health consumers to be co-facilitated by peer workers. A comprehensive list of potential stories and poems as reading material had been compiled in advance and, in accordance with VMIAC’s suggestions, included a range of texts from authors with lived experience of mental distress as well as stories that touched on topics related to mental health. In the spirit of Shared Reading, however, facilitators did not follow a set text list, but chose texts week by week depending on the tastes, moods and perceived needs of each group.

From a total of 11 regular participants, ¹ seven accepted our invitation to take part in semi-structured in-depth interviews and two provided written reflections after the groups had concluded in December 2023. We also conducted pre and post surveys, but these are not discussed in this paper. ² Qualitative research methods are frequently used in mental health research to capture the depth and nuance of participants’ experiences in their own voices (Palinkas, 2014). While the lack of generalisability of the findings of qualitative methods is a limitation, they are well-suited to exploratory pilot studies (Bryman, 2004; Palinkas, 2014), such as this, which aimed to expand the conceptual framework underpinning research on Shared Reading. The project received ethics approval from La Trobe University’s Human Research Ethics Committee (HEC22061). Prior to the interviews, all participants were provided with a Participant Information Statement and signed a written consent form. Interviews were transcribed by a paid transcription service and an inductive thematic approach was used to analyse the data (Bryman, 2004). In the spirit of inclusiveness and to avoid a medicalising orientation towards participants, we did not collect demographic or clinical data from participants. In the following section we discuss the results of this analysis. Pseudonyms are used, and any identifying details have been removed to protect the anonymity of participants.

Findings

Listening and being listened to: ‘Recognition’ as fundamental to human wellbeing

Shared reading groups can provide a powerful antidote to the isolating effects of mental distress. The stigma surrounding mental illness, the challenges of socialising during times of altered mental states, the difficulties of conveying the impact of the experience and the effects of medication—all can contribute to a strong sense of difference and result in a deep sense of loneliness (Elisha et al., 2006; Vigo, 2016) and a feeling of not being heard. Listening is integral to the Shared Reading method; it is something the facilitators try to model in their attentive and welcoming presence with both the literature and the group members. Several participants drew attention to this element of the facilitation. The following excerpt shows how Felicity tried to articulate the quality of her facilitator’s silence and its encouraging, accepting, invitational characteristics:

Her positive affirmations . . . weren’t in words, they were more sounds of encouragement . . . sounds to allow someone to continue without interruption . . . it’s sort of, it’s about connection. She had what’s, what’s the word? Universal, positive regard, I think they call it in social work. Okay. So, she had that. And she had these encouragements . . . if someone was talking about how they were feeling or their response, she would simply go, mmm, mmm, which is an encouragement, but isn’t an interruption . . . it shows you’re listening. It’s a cue to show you’re listening.

As Felicity reflected on the significance of ‘being listened to’ within the group, she captured one of the most fundamental of all human needs—to be recognised by others (Eriksen et al., 2012):

Being able to voice some of the fears you have or some of the concerns you have about a particular theme [in the reading] . . . helps you understand why you might respond in a certain way. I think . . . there are two aspects of that: you need to voice it, and you need to be listened to . . . that acknowledgement . . . is essential for anyone’s self-esteem.

Being recognised and valued as a human being is crucial to a person’s wellbeing and their dignity (Frost, 2016). In his seminal work, philosopher Honneth (1995 [1949]) proposed three interrelated dimensions of recognition that correspond ‘loosely’ with ‘self-confidence, self-respect and self-esteem’ (Frost, 2016: 433). Firstly, people need to be recognised at an individual level, to be afforded adequate love and care, to be noticed, to be responded to by others. This most basic form of recognition is rooted in conversational exchanges and in the language of gestures—so crucial in the early years—and constitutes the building blocks of self-confidence and self-esteem (Johnson, 1992). To sustain our identities, we need to be accepted and valued by others and to have their positive ‘appraisals’ reflected back to us, in various ways, across the life course (Cooley, 1964 [1902]). Secondly, people need to be recognised by state apparatuses as ‘full citizens . . . [and] accorded respect’ (Frost, 2016: 433). Thirdly, we need to be recognised for ‘specific qualities, skills and/or talents’ within our ‘communities of value’ (Frost, 2016: 433). For example, within professional/occupational communities and activist communities, wherein self-worth is ‘linked to the person’s esteem within the group and the value of the “group” to the society as a whole’ (Frost, 2016: 433). While the first of these dimensions is most relevant to the analysis of participants’ observations of the Shared Reading group, it is often the case that people with lived experience of mental distress, especially extreme and persistent experiences, have limited interactional opportunities to experience all three forms of recognition.

Consumers of mental health services—and social welfare services, generally—frequently experience the hurts of ‘misrecognising discourses’ (Frost, 2016: 434). As Fraser (2013: 176–177) puts it, to be ‘misrecognised’ is to be ‘denied the status of a full partner in social interaction and prevented from participating as a peer in social life . . . as a consequence of institutionalized patterns of interpretation and evaluation that constitute one as comparatively unworthy of respect or esteem’. Despite increased mental health literacy and growing acceptance of mental health conditions in the population at large, stigma remains a problem for many, especially for those who experience psychosis (Keen et al., 2017). Stigmatising discourses, attitudes and gestures, along with self-stigmatisation (Corrigan and Rao, 2012), can impede the life chances of people diagnosed with mental illnesses, hindering their employment opportunities, recreation pursuits, overall health and producing feelings of shame. Continuing her reflections on the Shared Reading group, Felicity emphasised the particular significance of being listened to for people who have ‘self-doubt or discrimination in their life’, including those living with mental health conditions:

[I]t ameliorates, I think is the word. That type of sense of—and it’s a dramatic word—but oppression, you know, that of fitting into society and being labeled in a certain way. It’s, it’s a bit of a balm for that.

For Felicity, Shared Reading provided a kind of healing from the long-experienced hurts tied up in pathologising assumptions and practices of othering. Her evocative metaphor of Shared Reading as a ‘balm’ underscores the crucial, and potentially empowering, effects of interactional ‘moves’ at the micro-social level.

One of the elements of the Shared Reading groups that participants most appreciated was their non-hierarchical structure and open-ended, free-flowing conversation, allowing the space to talk about their experiences in non-pathologising ways. This established a feeling of equality amongst group members, peer workers and facilitators that was contrasted with participants’ previous clinical encounters. Open-ended, free-flowing conversations at eye-level felt empowering because they were collaborative and exploratory rather than directed towards ‘improvement’. As Kristensen et al. (2023) note, in Shared Reading there is a suspension of the usual social roles, which cultivates ‘a feeling or atmosphere of equal worth and social cohesion’ (Kristensen et al., 2025: 2). Facilitators explicitly invite and actively model an openness to multiple perspectives on life: perspectives expressed both by fictional characters and by fellow participants. This openness was appreciatively noted by participants, such as Harry, who said ‘there was no right or wrong way of doing it’. Ambrosia noted the ‘very, very respectful’ atmosphere of the groups:

Straight away, you know, that sort of feeling and culture. So, everyone’s there on an equal footing and with an equal voice, there’s no right or wrong about whatever people said.

This open and exploratory atmosphere is underpinned by an understanding of literature as an encounter with the breadth of diverse human experience.

Literature as emotional exploration: recognising self and other anew

Literature’s capacity to convey the full range of human experience, including various mental and emotional states, enables moments of recognition and acknowledgement: seeing oneself reflected in a story can be powerfully reassuring and affirming. Jane captured this sense of recognition: ‘I have discovered that “mental health”—or perhaps it’s our responses to difficult complex lives—is found in every short story and poem and most other things in life!’ As Felski (2008: 54) has suggested, literature’s appeal to a shared humanity offers a reminder that ‘I am not entirely alone, that there are others who think or feel like me . . . I feel myself acknowledged: I am rescued from the fear of invisibility, from the terror of not being seen’. Literary texts hold a sense of authority that is not grounded in professional training but in life experience and the author’s ability to convey a sense of emotional truthfulness in startling and poignant language. A poem like ‘Wild Geese’ by Oliver (1992), assures the reader that:

You do not have to be good.

[. . .]

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

[. . .]

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Oliver’s poetry has been widely noted (and sometimes derided) for its therapeutic potential, and ‘Wild Geese’ in particular has the capacity to inspire self-reflection and satisfy ‘a spiritual and emotional longing’ (Schmidt, 2024 : 62), even though Oliver does not have medical or spiritual training or the expertise of a psychologist—she is ‘neither a boss nor a therapist. Nor a psychologist’ (Davis et al., 2023: 4). Yet, her words are all the more affecting because she speaks to the reader at eye-level and appeals to the shared experience of despair and longing for acceptance. This, in turn, validates the experience of her readers and de-pathologises their own experience. As Wren notes:

I don’t really think of my experiences in terms of “mental health” rather in less pathologizing ways like distress or madness. I found the group really unpathologising and gave me space to talk and think about things in unpathologising ways in this increasingly pathologized world (that alone I’m so grateful for!)

Accordingly, Wren responded to the suffering and courage of the protagonist of Kate Chopin’s story ‘Beyond the Bayou’ from a personal perspective without reference to medical terms. In Chopin’s story, a traumatised African American slave manages to traverse the self-imposed boundary line of the creek (a ‘bayou’), which demarcates her personal safe zone from the rest of the world, in order to save a child. Although quiet during the reading session, Wren communicated to the facilitators afterwards that they, too, wanted to go ‘beyond the Bayou’ and explore new territory outside of their own safe zone. The image of a geographical border as a metaphor for a personal limitation resonated strongly with Wren, who at times also found it difficult to navigate physical spaces. Skjerdingstad and Tangerås discuss how Shared Reading can generate ‘spontaneous imaginings’ that trigger an experience of ‘embodied cognition’ (2019: 10), of being immersed in ‘the visceral and kinetic aspects of the images’, creating a state of ‘lucidity’ in which ‘boundaries between self and other’ become ‘permeable’ (2019: 11). While the enchanting, at times dream-like states inspired by immersive reading have also been noted by others (see Felski, 2008), the moment of sharing enhances the experience of safety in a state of ‘vulnerability’ (Skjerdingstad and Tangerås, 2019: 11). Although not being able to articulate their experience in the moment, the desire to communicate and share their insight gave Wren the strength to email the facilitators afterwards. Wren’s reading of the story broadened a specific moment of healing from trauma into the life experience of finding the courage to step out of one’s comfort zone and explore a new corner of the world that keeps offering itself to our imagination.

Wren’s experience in being recognised as a person, rather than being reduced to a diagnosis, reflects perhaps the most important recuperative and empowering aspect of the reading groups. Similarly, in their study that compares cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) and Shared Reading for chronic pain, Billington et al. (2017: 163) highlight the importance of participants being recognised as people: ‘When people are in CBT, they are people with pain. When they’re in the reading group they are people with lives’. Accordingly, when participants in our research were asked if they would like to read stories and poems that explicitly focused on mental health issues, the overwhelming response was ‘No’. Even when reading stories that included characters struggling with altered mental states due to childhood trauma, such as Chopin’s ‘Beyond the Bayou’ and Haruki Murakami’s ‘The Seventh Man’, or made reference to time spent in a psychiatric ward, like ‘Tea with the Birds’ by Joanne Harris, participants did not discuss the characters’ experience in pathologising terms, but identified what the characters went through as experiences of grief, sadness, guilt or loneliness. This was particularly noticeable in the discussion of ‘Tea with the Birds’, which gave rise to conversations about the protagonist’s initial loneliness, her comical passive-aggressiveness and final growth moment without much attention being paid to her history of mental distress at all. From a space of acceptance and ‘universal, positive regard’ (to use Felicity’s words), participants also felt empowered to recognise others anew, to develop an appreciation of the effects of early experiences and environmental circumstances on them. Diane explained that reading ‘Tea with the Birds’ had made her consider the importance of ‘not [making] assumptions about people’, because:

[A]n irritating person can still have a lot to offer you and, you know . . . I think maybe what it was is you never really know what another person is going through.

Generally, responses to characters’ suffering were warmly, sometimes fiercely, empathetic, and some discussions led to the discovery that unpleasant behaviours or attitudes, such as those of the initially misogynist protagonist of Chekhov’s ‘Lady with a Dog’, can be attempts at shielding against feelings of sadness, longing or need. Carol put this quite succinctly: ‘I think I felt much closer to how much emotions create vulnerability and how this exposure helps to realize the importance of how cloaked feelings have become around grief, loss and the right not to struggle too much to become an acknowledged sentient being’. Participants’ generous responses to the protagonists of ‘Tea with the Birds’ and ‘Lady with the Dog’ exemplify well what Attridge (2017: 80) refers to as ‘readerly hospitality’. As previously mentioned, it is a distinctive hallmark of Shared Reading—and something that facilitators actively encourage and model—that the literature, along with the reflections of each participant, is welcomed into the midst of the group and entertained attentively, without judgement. The aim is for listeners to see more clearly and better understand the stranger in their midst, rather than to assess their worth according to any particular ideological or diagnostic criteria. The hope is for an expansion, rather than rigid reinforcement of boundaries (for further discussion of letting in an Other, see Römhild and James, 2024: 350).

Literature can show readers what others, who may at first glance seem strange, are ‘going through’. Sometimes these others are from different cultures or periods of history. Facilitators selected literature from a range of socio-cultural and historical perspectives and several participants expressed appreciation of this variety. As Carol observed:

It takes you to the life experience of another. It shows you the importance of your environment and your reaction to it.

The stories and poems invited readers to step into the shoes of others, as Harry explained:

You get into the mindset of the protagonist, and you try to think, “Oh, what is this?” . . . And then we [are] kind of . . . relating [it] to our lives. And maybe this could be the way they were thinking.

Participants’ reflections point to the enabling qualities that Shared Reading can cultivate: the capacity to ‘voice’ your responses to a story or poem, and ‘understand why you might respond in a certain way’ and to enter into ‘the life experience of another’. Such relational opportunities to recognise oneself and others help to build self-worth and self-esteem, strengthen social bonds and offer the possibility of ‘growth and change’ (Houston, 2016: 18), away from ‘misrecognising’ interactions that constrain human agency and wellbeing.

The slow ‘luxury’ of live reading: being together in the moment

Several participants chose the word ‘luxury’ to describe their experience of Shared Reading. The ‘liveness’, slow pace and soothing reassurance all seemed to be integral components of its ‘luxuriousness’ and of its life-enhancing benefits. Corcoran and Oatley (2019: 338) use the same word, noting that the chance to think about ‘human challenges and complex day-to-day situations’ within reading groups is ‘a luxury that is not typically afforded by pressured, busy and demanding lives’. This ‘luxury’, they continue, is ‘invaluable as an underpinning life resource to enhance psychological wellbeing’ (2019: 338).

In each session, a story and poem are brought to life, given voice by the facilitator. The text is, therefore, a ‘vocally embodied presence’ (Davis et al., n.d.: 9) within the intimate space of the group, experienced—entertained or ‘hosted’, we might say—by all participants simultaneously. This ‘liveness’ sets Shared Reading apart from other reading-focused gatherings such as traditional book groups and liberates participants from the pressure of having to prepare, or do ‘homework’, as Felicity put it. She contrasts this with her previous book club experience, where there was ‘pressure’ to finish a book beforehand and ‘produce feedback’: ‘And you’ll have prompting questions . . . This didn’t put any pressure on us at all’. Ambrosia also appreciated the absence of pressure to perform in any pre-determined way within the group:

You have time to talk if you want to, but you don’t have to, you can just stay quiet, remain quiet if you want to and just listen.

The leisurely pace of Shared Reading adds to the gentle, undemanding ‘luxury’. The facilitator reads the literature slowly and participants can either follow along with their own copy or just listen, sometimes with closed eyes. This encourages relaxation and frees participants from the strain of trying to keep up; it creates space for them imaginatively to enter the story or poem. Ambrosia noticed that it allowed her ‘to savour more and reflect more’. For Wren, who began the programme feeling ‘really nervous’, the slowness was particularly helpful:

The pace was probably most important for me . . . that was really good to just take it slow.

Although still sometimes bothered by dissociation and blurred vision, the slow, reflective approach enabled Wren to find ‘more meaning’ and to ‘connect to what we’re reading’:

I don’t think it had ever occurred to me that you can just read that slow . . . I’ve been able to read and understand a lot more, which is huge compared to really struggling with reading before the group. That’s given me a lot of confidence to go and do the things I want to do . . . I got more comfortable talking in front of people, too.

Wren’s newfound confidence has, it seems, transformed their self-understanding: from thinking they were ‘stupid’ to realising they could read and speak in the presence of others. Such gains in confidence and competence contribute significantly to improved psychological wellbeing (Besser-Jones, 2015; Ryan et al., 2008).

Several others reported that Shared Reading practices had spilled over into their post-group life. Sam said he was ‘reading more again’; Becca was pursuing her ‘renewed interest in short stories’; and Felicity, who used only to read ‘spasmodically’, now reads ‘for pleasure’:

Once a day. Even if it’s just ten minutes. So that pleasure is similar to the positive . . . conditions I was getting from the group.

Along with the counter-cultural slowness of pace, being read to by another person is also unusual for many adults. Felicity described it as ‘unique’ and ‘very comforting’: better than the relatively common contemporary experience of listening to an audiobook:

There’s something particularly wonderful about the person being there reading to you, not just a machine or . . . a disembodied voice. A person, a real person . . . It’s that presence that’s really comforting and enjoyable.

The ‘luxury’ and ‘joy’ of this ‘presence’ took her back to the time of reading to her own children:

The atmosphere was very similar . . . there’s a stillness about it . . . yet a concentration . . . And there’s a space in which to immerse yourself in the . . . actual thoughts and meaning of the text.

Such immersion left her with a feeling of ‘groundedness and a sense of satisfaction, of pleasure’. Jane echoed this: ‘listening to stories being read aloud in a shared group is a joy!’ Felicity’s observation of the simultaneous stillness and concentration experienced in Shared Reading connotes a meditative quality that others also noted. Harry spoke of how this was intensified by the presence of the other participants. Anxiety had long hampered his attempts to read, both for pleasure and for study; however, the ‘distractions’ that often derailed his solo efforts were not a problem within the group:

Your mind was not . . . ruminating in a way because you are involved . . . And you are focused . . . there was this group energy in there.

This corroborates the findings of Christiansen and Dalsgård (2022: 286) that an ‘atmosphere of presence’ allows respite from symptoms of mental illness, such as intrusive thoughts. Harry reported losing a ‘sense of time’ when ‘really deeply in’ the literature:

So, kind of like felt really amazing. And I wasn’t worrying about other stuff in life. So yeah . . . I can go into that moment if I’m doing a shared reading.

As well as intensifying the concentration of individual participants, the ‘group energy’ that Harry noted often manifested in a pleasurable and satisfying experience of collaborative meaning-making as participants built on one another’s insights, each contributing from the vantage point of their own unique perspective. Davis et al. (n.d.: 12), speak of ‘a relay of thinking’ and suggest that a group can begin to function ‘like a single mind’, which resonates with Harry’s experience:

We feel motivated and we are in a team and it’s kind of, yeah, it makes you . . . read more and to think together.

Brown (2021: 105) also discusses the ‘important benefits’ conferred by such ‘collective activity towards a common creative goal’. Likewise, Besser-Jones (2015: 196) reports that such an experience of ‘competence’ coupled with a sense of ‘belongingness’ fosters wellbeing. Harry’s excitement is evident here and evident again when he describes how the practices of Shared Reading have carried over into his approach to study:

When you have the pattern, when you make the habit of reading literature, then you kind of feel excited to read, read your study books as well.

Sometimes, collaborative meaning-making was rapid-fire within the group; sometimes, as Ambrosia explains, the pace was slower and the exploration more tentative:

We certainly didn’t always come up with answers as to what the meaning was that was written, or why was this written, but we’re just pondering, you know, alternative meanings, or different meanings for each of us? Yes.

The groups often took on an atmosphere of attentive presence that could be likened to mindfulness, as the group ‘leaned in’ (Davis et al., n.d.: 11) to the text and to one another. Participants described effects similar to those of meditation, such as feeling ‘calmer’, ‘more relaxed’ and ‘more happy’ after sessions. Ambrosia spoke of ‘some sort of uplifting feeling, like I’d just . . . been part of something that was good for me’.

Discussion

This pilot project aimed to offer participants an exploratory, non-pathologising, communal experience in which they were ‘recognised’ (Honneth, 1995 [1949]) and valued as human beings, as opposed to being ‘treated’ for a diagnosis. The previous section, drawing on the interviews with participants, explored how recognition operates in Shared Reading at three different levels: between the self and text, the individual and the facilitator, and between group members. We have shown how recognition as a conceptual lens can generate new and valuable insights into the therapeutic possibilities of Shared Reading. In this section, we raise some critical considerations for the expansion of this model.

One of the major findings of the study was the importance of atmosphere in creating conditions that invite open discussion and personal disclosure. Stability of group membership may be beneficial for fostering the gentle intimacy of Shared Reading. Some of our groups had fluctuating membership and Ambrosia found the addition of new participants during the programme made her ‘a bit more self-conscious as they were new to me, although I also felt it must be hard for them as they were new to the group’. The size of the group is also important: too few people may produce an uncomfortable feeling of pressure to contribute, as Ambrosia explains: ‘I felt more pressure that I should be saying something and contributing’; however, with too large a group, intimacy and the opportunity to contribute may be lost.

Shared Reading provides an opportunity to reflect on literature and life in the presence of accepting others; however, it is not always an easy experience. The ‘liveness’ introduces an element of uncertainty and unpredictability. Participants do not know beforehand what they will encounter in the readings (Davis et al., n.d.: 10); the stranger they have welcomed into their midst may unsettle or disturb. Sometimes, readers are caught off-guard when a story or poem abruptly triggers a strong emotion or a buried memory (Billington, 2016: 91–93). Just such a ‘benign ambush’ (Davis, 2020: 228) happened to one of our participants when reading Murakami’s ‘The Seventh Man’. The story drew into consciousness an acute awareness of her own trauma. This was extremely distressing for her at the time; however, it initiated an ongoing process of recovery:

I am much better now . . . It certainly was helpful, put it that way . . . It was challenging, but it wasn’t damaging . . . I mean . . . it’s a cliché isn’t it, like – no gain without pain, and I certainly don’t regret attending that session . . . One day I will reread that story . . . I will reread it and just see if I can sort of process a bit more of what sort of occurred for me personally.

It is an explicit hope of the Shared Reading project that literature offer participants just such a ‘second chance’ to revisit, reframe and hopefully redeem painful past experience. As Davis et al. explain:

[L]iterature widens and enriches the human norm [by] accepting and allowing for trauma, troubles, inadequacies, and other experiences usually classed as negative or even pathological. It is a process of recovery (Davis et al., n.d.: 33).

Although it may be a stretch to describe such upheavals and recovery operations as ‘luxurious’, they can lead to a fuller, more expansive experience of the self and so contribute to eudaimonic wellbeing. Billington (2016: 3) notes that it is ‘as though literature itself said implicitly “Nothing human is alien to me”’; thus there is profound reassurance in feeling the full gamut of one’s own experience held within literature’s capacious embrace, a reassurance augmented by the accepting presence of others within the group. As Ambrosia haltingly puts it:

It’s not, not just me, you know. It’s not specific to me . . . there might be certain things that sort of, yeah, I might sort of be worried about or unsure about or maybe think myself is a bit odd. But then . . . just sort of, it’s just part of how people are often.

There is no guarantee, however, that such reassurance will emerge and the kind of ongoing reflection it requires is most helped by regular attendance at sessions. Attendance was another challenge for many participants who often did not feel well enough to travel to groups. While online Shared Reading groups have their disadvantages, they would enable more regular attendance and greater inclusivity for those living in remote areas. The choice of setting is a key consideration in establishing a successful group. Public libraries offer an inviting atmosphere, but not all have private meeting spaces, which are necessary to facilitate personal disclosure. On the other hand, meeting at VMIAC’s offices after hours raised potential safety concerns for the facilitators. Further research could explore a variety of settings, including online, to best support the needs of both participants and facilitators.

In sum, the findings of this pilot project suggest that Shared Reading could be a promising addition to the ‘menu’ of community-based, non-clinical supports that mental health consumers specifically requested in the 2021 Royal Commission (State of Victoria, 2021). It is an activity that fosters recognition at multiple levels and offers a low-cost, scalable adjunct to conventional psychosocial supports: valuable attributes in the post-pandemic context of overwhelmed and under-resourced mental-health services (State of Victoria, 2021). Practitioners across mental health, community development and allied health settings can harness the structured yet flexible format to cultivate attentiveness, mutual respect and narrative agency—conditions empirically linked to engagement and recovery. For researchers, the pilot highlights three priorities: first, testing the model with larger and more diverse cohorts to establish generalisability; secondly, integrating mixed-methods outcomes, including longitudinal mental-health, social-connectedness and service-utilisation metrics, to clarify mechanisms of change; and thirdly, comparing delivery modalities (in-person, online and hybrid) to determine contextual fit and cost-effectiveness. Addressing these areas will refine the intervention’s theoretical foundations, inform policy adoption and advance interdisciplinary dialogue on arts-based approaches to mental health and social wellbeing.