The Reading Writer

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Writing has changed the way I read. I don’t know if it’s true for all writers, but I read differently now. And I don’t mean that it makes me a more critical reader. In some ways, it does. In other ways, it makes me a more compassionate reader.

But the big difference is that I notice things now that I wouldn’t have noticed before. Currently, I’m reading a NYT bestselling thriller. As the author spins her story, little details about the characters stand out. And I know that those details aren’t random filler—they are subtly preparing the reader for a twist at the end. In other words, the details lead me to suspect that the “guilty” party really isn’t guilty. He’s the victim.

And I wonder if it’s less “fun” for me as a reader. If I weren’t seeing these hints for what they are—preparations for the reversal at the end, would the novel be more exciting? Does seeing the hand of the author behind the scenes spoil its effect? After all, one of the things writers try to do is disappear. We work to leave no trace of ourselves in the text. So, does being a writer and knowing the “tricks of the trade” spoil the experience? Perhaps.

But there is another facet to the experience. As a writer, I appreciate the text more. I see the nuances and skill. I suspect it’s a “forest and trees” issue. I can’t have the same kind of “forest” experience anymore, because I see so many individual trees. But those trees can sure be gorgeous—the texture of the bark, the shade of leaves, the strength of the branches. Maybe it’s just exchanging one experience of beauty for another.

On the other hand, if I’m completely wrong about the thriller, it would be very cool. And you’ll hear me squeal because I’ll have seen the forest and the trees.

What are your thoughts? If you’re a writer, does it change your experience of reading? And if you don’t write, would you as a reader want to notice the machinations of the writer in the text?

A Writers' Reading Club

 Last year, a writing friend and I began a reading club. Okay, it wasn’t that organized, it was more of a “Hey, let’s try reading the same books at the same time and discussing them by email.”

We’ve been reading a variety of books. We started with Ethan Frome, and we discussed the use of setting to create mood, the narrative frame structure (how Wharton convinces the reader to suspend disbelief—the narrator imagines what happened between characters, yet we believe it’s the truth), etc.

One of the interesting things about reading with another writer is getting into the nitty-gritty of what works for us, what doesn’t, and why. For example, we’re reading The Historian. We are both well into the book (150+ pages), and neither of us has bonded much with the narrator, who I believe will be the main character eventually. And we both have some issues with the structure of the plot. But we’re both compelled to keep going. We have to find out what’s going to happen. And we both think it’s because the author has done a masterful job of creating tension by understatement. Like a burlesque dancer, Kostova shows you just a sneak peak. In this case, it’s a sneak peak of evil. Or to use another metaphor, she leaves you a trail of breadcrumbs through the forest. And who can resist following?

Another aspect of reading together is the stuff we disagree on. For example, I feel like there’s a tremendous sense of doom hanging over the main character, but my friend doesn’t feel that. So, I’ve been thinking about it. What textual reasons do I have for feeling that? I think there are a few. But I also suspect that I’m bringing this foreboding with me to the novel. That these are my hopes, which is interesting to think about in terms of the “writer-reader contract” and whether it’s valid for me to do it.

In spite of thoughts about literary theory, reading together has been popcorn-eating good fun. And I think/hope that we’re growing as writers and readers. Next up on our TBR list is The Weight of Water.

Photo by David Flanders, courtesy of Wikimedia

How Do You Choose A Book?

I remember going to the library as a child, touching the glossy covers of books and reading the blurbs to decide what to choose. Or I’d devour the Scholastic paperback list, trying to decide which paperbacks I wanted to spend my money on. The thin novels were often only 25 cents, so I could buy several.

But now everything has changed. There are still libraries, but I don’t have to always drive there. I can download books to my Kindle from the library’s website. But the selection isn’t extensive. And the more I read, the fewer books are left that I’m interested in. The same applies to the library’s physical collection. Budgets are dwindling, which means the collection of books is too. To help generate revenue, they charge for new releases. And they aren’t cheap. Plus, I’m amazed at how long books are considered new releases. I’m beginning to think something is no longer a “new release” only when people aren’t reading it anymore.

Several months ago, I found an e-newletter that advertised free and 99 cent novels. I signed up and thought my book problems were solved. They weren’t. Now I receive a daily newsletter of listing free and cheap e-books. Some of the books are written by indie authors while others are by traditionally pubbed authors, who are making their backlists available to e-market. But I haven’t got the time or energy to weed through the newsletter, read all the blurbs, check the books’ ratings on Amazon, read a sample to see if the writing is quality or not. The e-newletters advertise books regardless of quality—basically it’s a pay-to-play situation. And the cost isn’t cheap. (If any of you know of some e-newletter that’s different—and not just the reviews of a single book reviewer—please let me know!)

So I’m not really reading the free newsletter anymore. Instead, I’m paying attention to other writer’s recommendations. If writer X, whose novel I liked, says, “Book A is really good and it’s free/99 cents/cheap,” then I usually buy it—assuming the plot and genre are interesting to me.

What about you? If you have an e-reader, how do you decide what e-books to buy?

Why Do You Read?

Okay, raise your hand if you read the back of cereal boxes. Yep, just as I suspected—lots of hands, my own included. Boredom readers. Breakfast is a boring meal at our house. No one’s had their coffee yet, so we sit at the table staring at one another and hoping that caffeine and sugar will jump start our brains.

Sometimes I read the newspaper, other times I don’t. I really don’t care what-actress-dumped-what-actor-for-what-reason. There’s always the front page, but I’m sick to death of politics and economics. The novel that I’m reading is infinitely more interesting (even the cereal box is more interesting if my brain is too befuddled to remember where I left the novel I was reading). Which leads to another reading reason—escapism. I love to take a break and visit another time or place or other people whose faces aren’t glazed with sleep.

But I have another reason for reading, beauty and thought. Sometimes I set aside time to experience words and their stories—poetry and classic literature. (BTW, the Aeneid is a total Iliad knock off. Homer should have sued.)

And sometimes I read to laugh. I like Dave Berry, though I feel sorry for his mother-in-law. And I love PG Woodhouse. Someone has said of him, “It is impossible to be unhappy while reading the adventures of Jeeves and Wooster. And I've tried.” It’s true. Try it.

What about you? Why do you read?