What I am Reading - and learning

William Faulkner said it best: “Read, read, read. Read everything — trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it.”

A sign of a good writer isn’t marked by the number of craft books on their shelves, but by the books they have read that month or year. Most successful writers are voracious readers. Michelle Hoover, the tireless leader of our writing accountability group, averages a book a week. I try to do the same.

As Faulkner points out, reading is fundamental to developing craft. Far more important than devouring how-to books, novels set the example of storytelling mechanics. Writers instinctively note structure, character development, pacing and language by seeing them in action. Reading expands our vocabulary, exposes us to different styles, and helps us recognize what works and what doesn’t.

Reading in our genre prevents us from accidentally recreating a plot that’s been done a hundred times, or stumbling into clichés. It also keeps us competitive: We can’t know what readers expect if we don’t know what they’ve already been given.

But reading outside our genre is where the cross-pollination happens. Learn about ratcheting up tension from a thriller or lean into the interiority of a memoir. Blush with a bodice ripper. Early May, I read “A Painful Case,” one of the fifteen stories that make up James Joyce’s Dubliners. I was struck by his simple yet damning description of protagonist Mr Duffy: “He lived at a little distance from his body.” AHH. That says so much in nine words. So: don’t just read the latest tome off the press, read classics, too. They have so much to offer.

And don’t forget small presses and indie publishers. The major publishers are safe bets, but safe isn’t always the same as good. A lot of innovative and risk-taking writing happens at smaller houses. Experimental voices, unconventional narratives, diverse perspectives that corporate committees might not greenlight.

Even when I am unimpressed with a novel, I’ve still learned something

I have to ask myself why, and articulate the answer. The characters were too predictable. The plot sagged in the middle. The ending let someone off the hook. The act of diagnosing a book’s flaws is its own kind of craft education.

So here is a list of what I have been reading in May (in addition to Joyce) and what I’ve learned.

Honey in the Wound by Jiyoung Han - Though I don’t read enough of it, I am a sucker for magical realism. I was captivated as Han’s omniscient narrator weaves a respect for nature and Korean history with humans who turn into tigers and women whose sweet voices force men to speak the truth. Though the subject matter is difficult, the book’s pacing is fast, which is probably why Han can play with my emotions. Of all the books I read this month, Honey kept me up to the wee hours of the night. And that is the beauty of reading.

Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid - Even if you don’t do anything else this month, read the opening chapter of this book. It is a master class in hooking the reader.

Recitatif by Toni Morrison - the genius of this short story is that Morrison withholds. She never reveals the racial identities of her two main characters. While you’re busy parsing every detail trying to figure out who is Black and who is white, the real story is happening somewhere else entirely. What actually matters is what happened to Maggie. Morrison works like a magician: your eyes are always on the wrong hand. That’s the point.

The Griffin Girls Greatest Hits by Jennifer Weiner - Weiner uses free indirect style as she jumps between points of view. This enables the reader to see all the flaws of each sister, through each other’s eyes as well as in their own minds, which is the success of this novel. I thought she let the male character off the hook too easily.

The Irish Goodbye by Heather Aimee O’Neill - this story of a dysfunctional family coming together at Thanksgiving shifts the point of view between chapters as each of the three sisters speculate on what the others think and know and suspect. As a third child, it rang very true. The challenge is keeping track of all the characters and relationships: Who the hell was Beth? Which of Alice’s sons is which? And why name a girl Poppy, traditionally the name of a grandfather in Irish families. Who are the Larkins again?

I found these books at the Park Slope Public Library. I urge everyone, especially writers, to visit a library this week. Libraries are fundamental to writing because they have book shelves filled with books, and staff who can recommend our next great read. Park Slope also hosts a monthly book club and I got to talk with members about my book yesterday. The first question was about my writing process. What can I say? Write every day. And read.

ps: I chose that stock photo because my granddaughter is into Spidey these days and I love what a comic book can do to our imagination.