I make no secret of the fact on Smokable Clown that I really like to read mystery novels. Stephen White is one of favorite authors and every once in awhile he sends out an email like this. I have to share with you that I love his reasoning about sharing titles and what books mean to him.
I would agree with him on almost every point.
A Note From Stephen White
My least favorite question when I do public appearances might surprise you. The one I dread most is the relatively benign, “What are you reading?” or its sibling, “What authors do you like?” Some well intentioned member of the audience will ask one question or the other – or a variant – at nine signings out of ten.
Why do I have so much trouble with those relatively straightforward queries?
Let me count the ways.
The primary problem is one of an implied imprimatur. My concern when I reveal what I am currently reading (or list some books that I’ve recently appreciated, or even authors that I admire) is that the original question wasn’t really a case of simple curiosity, but rather a thinly veiled request for a recommendation. There’s nothing wrong with that, I suppose – I’m as good a person to ask for advice about what to read as the next guy (but, I would argue, no better than that fictional next guy.) What worries me is that people who enjoy reading the books I write are going to make a logical, but ultimately irrational, assumption about the books I read: My fear is that he or she will think that if they’ve enjoyed or appreciated the books I write, then he or she will enjoy or appreciate the books I read.
I would argue that that underlying premise is false. Someone once said that writers don’t make good critics for the same reason that drunks don’t make good bartenders. I’ve never understood that argument in a literal sense, but I think I can feel its undertow. As a reader, I don’t choose books trying to find authors who write in a fashion similar to my own. In fact, I read more non-fiction than fiction these days. And often, when I read fiction, I’m attracted to books that have qualities that are quite the opposite of the ones present in the books I write. I find myself drawn to writers who stretch the form – either the fiction form generally, or the crime fiction form in particular – in ways that I’ve never attempted, and may never have even considered.
I love to find writers who teach me something.
A second concern I have about responding to the whole recommendation question is that after fifteen years as a novelist I no longer consider myself a typical reader. I admit that with more than a modicum of sadness, because prior to become a published writer I proudly considered myself to be among the most typical of readers. It’s a wonderful club to be a member of. Back then, I read for escape. I read for knowledge. I read for fun. But now, especially when I’m reading fiction, I find that I focus on facets of the books I read in ways that I never did before. I focus, for instance, way too much on craft. How is a story structured? (And in a micro-literary sense, how is a chapter, a paragraph, or a sentence structured.) Or I find myself assessing the tone or the consistency of a character’s voice. I will critique dialogue to weigh whether or not the words ring true. Those are all things I may have subliminally appreciated (or criticized) before I started writing novels, but now I focus on them as I read. And I can’t help it. Those things captivate me (and distract me) when they are done well. They distract me (often unnecessarily, I might add) when I think they are done poorly.
When people ask me what I’m reading, I don’t think they consider the possibility that I’m an oddly catalyzed reader, and that it’s likely I don’t read for the same reason, or certainly in the same way, that they do. The reasons I might consider a book flawed now might be invisible to a casual reader (a reader fortunate enough to be similar to the one I was fifteen years ago.) To be frank, I mourn the loss of that critical distance, and wish it on none of you.
I’m also concerned that were I to suggest books, I will leave many worthy recommendations off my list. I don’t read everything, or everybody. I’m not particularly well read in the genre in which I write, and I don’t present myself as an expert guide on this terrain. Inevitably, any list I present will perplex and offend. So, this isn’t exhaustive. I probably wouldn’t come up with the same list next week.
But I do get asked, so here are some answers.
What I’ve decided to do is to list some books that I’ve recently thought about, and that have taught me things, introduced me to things, or whose authors have captivated me with some aspect of the craft. Some are best-sellers, some aren’t. Some you’ve probably already read. Some you probably haven’t.
Do I recommend them?
Back when I was in clinical practice, patients would often ask me for advice. I rarely offered any. Why? Advice is me telling you how to walk across a mine field. Usually the more the patient wants the advice, the more dangerous the mine field. If I’m right with my counsel, great. If I’m wrong – well, I’m not the one who gets blown up.
As always, read at your own risk. The good news? These mine fields aren’t that dangerous.
(He then went on to list a bunch of books and reasons why he liked them.)
Good reading.
Stephen
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