I often hear published writers say they don’t have time to read anymore. It is often in interviews while promoting their own work, when they are asked what books they have read lately. Some writers say they don’t have time to read at all, others not as much as they would like to. Those who do read often only read ARCs (advanced reader copies) of new books they have been asked to write a blurb for, or nonfiction books as research for their fiction. They are too busy writing books to be reading books for leisure, or so they say. But this is not an excuse—it is cope. All writers need to always be reading. (ABR)
I have yet to read Infinite Jest (it is on my bucket list), but I enjoyed this collection of DFW’s long nonfiction essays, maybe even more than his short fiction. They are absolutely genius—not just in their content but in the craftsmanship of the prose on a sentence level. I read a couple of these essays several years ago but struggled with Wallace’s complicated syntax. Between the page-long sentences, invented words and acronyms, and multi-paged footnotes, you practically need a map to read a David Foster Wallace book. With my reading comprehension having expanded since then, I can now better understand and appreciate the complexity of his prose. Few writers could string words together better than DFW (RIP). The essays in this collection include:
I had been planning to read this book for a while after repeatedly hearing it recommended as one of the greatest American novels. When Cormac McCarthy passed away this year, I thought it would be a good time to finally do so. I’d seen and loved several movies based on McCarthy’s books but had never read one.
There’s not much of a plot to Blood Meridian: it’s basically a group of men riding across the Old West, encountering gruesome scenes of violence in and between skirmishes with Apaches. What really sets the book apart—why it is hailed as one of the greatest modern novels by one of the greatest modern writers—is McCarthy’s writing style, painting portraits of the scenes with beautifully simple poetry and deep philosophical insight, mostly through the character of “the judge.” Which is the second thing that sets Blood Meridian apart. The character of judge Holden is an all-time classic antihero (or outright villain). He studies nature and catalogs specimens in his journal, yet kills men, women, and children, sometimes just for the thrill of it.
The story is told from the perspective of “the kid,” a young man riding with the judge and their leader, Glanton. But whenever the focus drifted away from the judge, I wanted to return to him. He is such a fascinating character and if/when the book is made into a movie, whoever plays the judge will likely win an Oscar. The book is full of violence but not gratuitously—it is there for a reason. The book explores the very nature of violence and war, how it is fundamental to life, inescapable. Perhaps the central question of the book is who or what is Holden the judge of?
This continues to be one of the best currently-running comic book series. It’s a brilliant premise (about how the belief in conspiracy theories makes them manifest in reality) with an equally brilliant execution, both the writing and the artwork. It is impressive how Tynion ties every famous conspiracy theory together and has it all make sense.
This is a fascinating book about the type of precognition often experienced in dreams, built off the work of J.W. Dunne. Author Eric Wargo provides numerous famous examples of precognitive dreams, often about traumatic events such as plane crashes or the sinking of the Titanic. Wargo claims such cases of precognition are actually “prememory”: your unconscious mind remembering a future memory, not of the event itself, but of your emotional reaction to learning news of the event. Both the author and I are aware of how crazy and “woo” this all sounds, but Wargo’s research is scientifically rigorous, and he walks a fine line of being both skeptical about paranormal claims but also open-minded to their possibilities (something I wish more on both sides of the paranormal/skeptical debate were willing to do).
This is the second Arthur C. Clarke novel I’ve read (the first being Rendezvous With Rama), and I’ve been blown away by both. For some reason I expected Clarke’s books to be a bit drier and more dated, but his is some of the most exciting and mind-expanding science fiction I’ve ever read. I should have expected no less from the mind behind 2001: A Space Odyssey. Perhaps I had that prejudice because in some older sci-fi books, the science and ideas become outdated or the writing style does (or it was never any good to begin with). Especially with hard science fiction, which Clarke is often categorized as, the science is prioritized over the story, craft, and characters, so once the science itself becomes dated, the book does as well. But this is NOT the case with Arthur C. Clarke. Though there is some “hard science” in Childhood’s End, it was also quite weird, speculative, and philosophical (like 2001). Clarke’s ideas remain highly relevant and he is an exquisite composer of prose. This novel particularly features so many brilliant lines of philosophical insight, such as: “There were some things that only time could cure. Evil men could be destroyed, but nothing could be done with good men who were deluded.”
“This world must differ from the given in at least one way, and this one way must be sufficient to give rise to events that could not occur in our society — or in any known society present or past. There must be a coherent idea involved in this dislocation; that is, the dislocation must be a conceptual one, not merely a trivial or a bizarre one — this is the essence of science fiction, the conceptual dislocation within the society so that as a result a new society is generated in the author’s mind, transferred to paper, and from paper it occurs as a convulsive shock in the reader’s mind, the shock of dysrecognition. He knows that it is not his actual world that he is reading about.”
Philip K. Dick on worldbuilding a science fiction story
When I was a child, I hated reading books. Yet today as an adult, I not only read a ton of books—I write them. How did this happen? Did my temperament change drastically? I don’t think so. I think I could have learned to love reading as a child if only I was exposed to the right books.
“If one feels the desire to transform oneself and to speak from other bodies and souls, one is a dramatist.”
— FriedrichNietzsche
Point of view is a question every fiction writer must decide on when telling a story. When reading others and writing myself, I prefer the first-person perspective. It lets you get inside the mind of another person and see life from their point of view. No matter who they are or what they’ve done, you can’t judge them. You need to have empathy for all people, even the worst-seeming people on the outside.
“Monkeying with Literature” (ca. 1877–78) by William Merritt Chase
When I read the fiction of 19th-century writers like Edgar Allan Poe, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and Herman Melville (among others), I am amazed by the depth and sophistication of their work, both psychologically and philosophically—not to mention the craftsmanship of their prose. Is anybody writing such complex fiction today? Society does not seem to make writers like they used to. (Myself included—though such writers inspire me to elevate my work.) Keep in mind that those writers were not professionally trained to be writers—almost all were self-taught. How were people so long ago seemingly so much more knowledgeable than we are today when we have so much more knowledge? Perhaps that very “knowledge” is the problem.
T.Z. Barry 