What do I read while writing?

“If we survive until the morning, we’ll live forever.”
― Adam Higginbotham, Midnight in Chernobyl

Dear Reader,

I have two writing modes: input and output.

This sounds like I am a machine, but maybe that is the point. Writing a book is complicated. For me, it’s important to have a clear direction.

For the next month, I’m all about input — I am taking the outside world in. I’m doing some events in Canada, just went to see live music, and one of my favourite photographers is in town. I have a sky-high pile of books to read. My son and I have a list of movies we want to watch. I’ll fall down rabbit (or spider) holes. I’ll run, but I might miss a day or two because I want to do other things. I will happily space out. I will sleep soundly. I’m listening to songs I haven’t heard in a while. My perceptive friend Jen will take one look at me and say, “oh good, it’s fun Claire.”

For much of August and September, I was all about output — I was working on a new manuscript. I unplugged the modem and went dark. My runs stretched longer. My regular route became a 15.5 km square, a distance that allows my brain more post-writing processing power. I ate a lot of peanut butter. I slept less, waking before dawn as my brain started turning over a problem. I forgot to answer emails (sorry!). I listened to a narrow list of songs on repeat. I wrote and wrote.

When in output/writing mode, my reading becomes specific. I can’t switch off my brain. To take a break, I need to fill it with something. But, it can’t be vacant. If my mind is operating like a knife, it needs to be sharpened when I’m reading at night.

Often, I’ll look for a book that won’t interfere with the manuscript I’m working on. It’s best when there isn’t overlap in theme or style or subject.

In September, while in output mode, I read a book that perfectly fulfilled this requirement: Midnight in Chernobyl: The Untold Story of the World’s Greatest Nuclear Disaster by Adam Higginbotham.

This book explains why reactor 4 malfunctioned and caused the Chernobyl nuclear disaster on April 26, 1986. It asks questions at the most technical level, but it also pulls back to show how ideology and disinformation create an environmental disaster.

At 506 pages, this book is tense, gripping, and reads like a thriller. The writing is spectacular in an understated way. It takes you into the moment — the alarm is sounding on reactor 4, what button will you press? — but at the same time, the author adheres to the tenets of journalism. The author, Higginbotham, is known for his meticulous research.

I was especially interested to read about the Soviet regime of the 1980s. It was a time when there were so many lies, it was difficult to know the truth (this may sound familiar?). A story about a dark past can illuminate the present.

The book informed the TV mini-series “Chernobyl,” which starts and ends with a question: “What is the cost of lies?”

This short clip sets it up beautifully.

While in output mode, this is the kind of book I love to read.

Sometimes when I’m writing, I have the sense that I’m making things worse. My working days are filled with hundreds of questions that seem to multiply. I might be on page 83 only to realize I need to start again. Nothing ever feels finished at the end of a day, threads unspool, things get messy, and I become lost.

At the end of a day, I found it comforting to turn to a book that was steeped in fact. Higginbotham took on a huge problem — what happened on that fateful night in Pripyat and why? Over years, he uncovered the parts and found a way to make the pieces fit.

While in output mode, Midnight in Chernobyl helped me think. It made me sharper. It gave me ways to see the world more clearly. I am grateful for books like this.

Yours in reading,

Claire

P.S.

• I couldn’t resist writing about a president who broke the law. “I am not a crook,” appeared in The Globe and Mail. [Gift link]
  

• Yes, I’ll be in Vancouver, St. John’s, Halifax, and a few other places. There are details on my events page.
  

• I’ve always loved Jeff Wall’s photographs for the stories I see in them. If you are in Toronto, don’t miss this. His work will be many other places, too.
  

• An adaptation of one of my favourite short books, Grief is a Thing with Feathers by Max Porter, is coming to theatres. The film is called The Thing with Feathers. I take adaptations extremely personally when it comes to the books I love — I remain nervous but optimistic.
  

• I am the author of How to Survive a Bear Attack and other novels that were stolen by an AI company and are now part of a settlement. Stealing to prop up a house of cards? It makes me furious. Higginbotham will write a book about this.
  

• This is my monthly letter. It’s about books I love. It’s free and always will be.