Right now I’m reading IF ON A WINTER’S NIGHT A TRAVELER, a book that is part experiment, part commentary, and all about book love.
It’s a collection of first chapters of made-up books. Just as you’re getting hooked, Reader (meaning you — much of the book is told through a second-person point of view) finds his book has been misprinted. Like a treasure hunt, Reader looks for the rest of the book but continues to stumble on new first chapters, getting further and further drawn into new stories he can never fully read.
Instead, Reader thinks about books, wondering if stories exist at all apart from the author or if they only begin once the author is removed, if words get in the way of a story or if they are the story themselves, if each reader experiences the same story or if every time a story is read it is something new.
And for those of us who read and write, there’s this idea I read last night:
There’s a boundary line; on one side are those who make books, on the other those who read them. I want to remain one of those who read them, so I take care always to remain on my side of the line. Otherwise, the unsullied pleasure of reading ends, or at least is transformed into something else, which is not what I want.”
What are your thoughts on these things — an author’s role in a story, the way words build or distract, the unique perspective each of us brings to what we’ve read? And you writers out there, is it possible to cross the boundary line and still experience “the unsullied pleasure of reading”?
The unsullied pleasure of reading… oh I miss those days! It’s something I grieve over now that I have this “writer” looking over my shoulder all the time. HOWEVER. I still experience it from time to time, and i appreciate it all the more. It just takes a really special book at just the right moment in my life. (Most recently: THE WHITE DARKNESS.) Rare, but all the more precious for the rarity.
Btw, I responded to your query about poetry books, and that email bounced! Is there another address where I can forward my response?
I write. (Oh what? You already knew that?) And thankfully, I still find myself experiencing the unsullied pleasure of reading. I’m going to chalk it up to my brain being awesome, but when I read…I read. I’m not thinking about how I could edit this book or even how I might have written this book better (unless it’s a really really terrible book, but then I think even non-writers have those thoughts). Because it’s not my book and so I don’t need to feel responsible in “fixing” it; my only responsibility, as Reader, is to experience the story.
Irene and Valerie, I really think you’d enjoy this book. Chapter 8 alone is something all writers should read: it’s supposed to be the journal of a tormented author. Everyone is waiting for his next piece, and all he can do is watch a woman reading several doors down, wishing he could create something as engrossing as the book she’s reading.
There’s a really funny passage about the tormented writer versus the productive writer and how each secretly wants to be the other.
I most of the time can divorce myself from fixing. Thankfully I go into learning and enjoying mode as I read.
Irene, I’d love to hear more about The White Darkness.
Gosh, I’ve never heard of that book, Caroline! You keep giving me food for thought. And more books for the TBR list.
Since I’ve started writing seriously and on a regular basis (in other words, since 2007), I’ve found that it’s difficult to turn off my inner editor. But I also realize that only happens in the beginning of whatever book I’m reading. Once I’m hooked, I’m a reader and only a reader, not noticing (or simply not caring) if there are flaws.
This reminds me: on vacation I read The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Not my usual fare. It’s dense and philosophical and eminently quotable. The ending is sad, but throughout the book are funny little moments. What I loved was Renee’s utter shock over the note from one of the rich women in the apartment building. Why? Because the rich woman misused a comma!
I was thinking about this idea–I wonder if writers are, at least by temperament, writers from birth, and so there is always part of the brain that is reading like a writer, even if not a very critical one. There is something in the proto-writer that reads a passage and senses that there is some work behind it, some design that is trying to hide itself. Incidentally, I love what Calvino says about the continuity of time at the beginning of the book: that there was a period of about 100 years in which time really was the way we think of it in novels, long, and continuous, and that we can’t represent that today because we have done away with looking at time like that.
Super interesting! I just wrote down the name of the book. 🙂
I still enjoy reading very much, but I do stop to think, “How did she/he (the author) do that?” or “Would I have broken my paragraph there?” It doesn’t get in my way, making me enjoy reading less. That said, writing has changed the way I read.
Sounds very interesting! I have to admit to always being a picky reader. The process of learning about craft has just helped my understand why I like or don’t like a particular book. 🙂 Still, there are some novels that I enjoy even if I notice craft problems. It all depends on characters for me. I read an excellent novel about George Washington that wasn’t perfect in style, but he and Martha’s characters were so specific and interesting that I maintained my interest.
Joanne, I’ve heard of The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Is it worth picking up? I’m always willing to read something that stretches me.
Rebecca, fun to see you commenting! Your new blog is lovely. One of the interesting things in the book’s introduction was the discussion about an author’s obligations. Many of Calvino’s peers felt writers must comment on society/political situations, that this was a requirement in what you shared with the world. One of the “fake” first chapters he creates in Traveler deals with the fall of an unnamed regime in an unnamed country. From the rest of the book, though, you can see this wasn’t a philosophy he felt he had to uphold.
Dawn, when I read, I sometimes wonder if an editor suggested adding a scene, etc. I was discussing this last night with friends after watching The Help: did Kathryn Stockett’s editor suggest the “pie scene” as a bit of comic relief in the midst of a beautiful but heavy story? Or was she wise enough to see this was needed on her own? It’s a very clever switch in tone, either way.
Rosslyn, somehow I have become less picky as a reader, if you can believe that. The more I read (and write and get to know other authors), the more open I am to styles and genres I wouldn’t have picked up before. I’m learning there’s room for all of us, and if even a book isn’t my cup of tea, I (try) to keep in mind that it is someone else’s. In turn, this frees me up to create what I do.
This is one of the best discussions we’ve had for a while around here. Thanks for those who have participated!
Oh yes, yes, yes, Caroline! Read The Elegance of the Hedgehog. It made me THINK, which so many of the books I read today don’t. She has a great quote in there about writing too. You’ll know it when you see it.
It’s not an easy read (part of that could be the translation), but it’s rewarding.
Joanne, added to my list!
Good discussion! And yeah, I’m with Irene where my reading experience can often be marred by the writer in me. I’s something I’ve noticed only the last few years though. Probably because I’m writing more than ever. I get impatient with books more often and I’ve actually put down books in the past year – something I would NEVER have done in the past. But books do *speak* to us at different times of our lives or moods, etc.
And on those days where I get impatient with a book, I think, “I’d rather be reading/working on my own.” My own work pulls at me more than the escape into someone else’s story. And yet, I really wish I could read MORE. I get behind on new books and it’s so hard to keep up with everything I hear about and would love to read.