A Literary Drill

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Yes, it's true: I succumb to peer pressure.  On the second day of the new year I feel I ought to be posting something rather splendid and Scarlett O'Hara-like about tomorrow being another day; however, Jenny beat me to the punch in her usual dashing, sensible manner.  Instead, I'm going to follow her footsteps and Mirriam's and, as a kind of follow-up to my last post, babble on a bit about books in fifty-five questions.

1. Your favourite book as a child? Jenny waffled between two of the Chronicles of Narnia, so I feel a little guilty saying that my favorite was either Detectives in Togas or Mother West Wind’s Children, both of which I read far too many times. But it could have been worse, you know. It might have been The Secret of the Twisted Dark Chimney of Tunnels and Traps with Scary Organ Music (aka Nancy Drew).  

2. What are you reading right now?  The Man in the Iron Mask. Woe is me. Also Ethandune and the second half of Gleanings from Paul, which I started a significant while ago.  

3. What books do you have on request at the library? None. I have a certain theoretical appreciation for libraries, but never use them except for research.

4. Bad book habit. Telling others, or myself, that I will read a book and promptly losing interest in said book.

5. What do you currently have checked out from your library? Thankfully nothing. I had a horrible panicky moment in which I thought maybe I’d forgotten to return books to the university library.

6. Do you have an e-reader? No.

7. Do you prefer to read one book at a time, or do you tend to read several at once? I’m generally reading several concurrently, although I try not to double fist. I like to have an upstairs book (or two) and a downstairs book.

8. Have your reading habits changed since starting a blog? I doubt it. Since starting a Goodreads account in 2009—or rather, since beginning to keep up with it in 2010—I think I’ve tried more consciously to vary the type and genre of the books I read. However, the blog itself has had very little impact that I can see.

9. What was your least favourite book this year? I was none too fond of The Comedy of Errors, but it was mercifully short. I would probably have to say Death Comes to Pemberley, which I hoped but did not really expect would be good. It was not horrible—I read to the end—but the author was unable to grasp the spirit of Austen or her characters. You cannot accurately convey the charm of Elizabeth Bennet by commenting repeatedly on her fine eyes.

10. What was your FAVOURITE book this year? Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard III. No, not really, though it was a darn fun read. Since Jenny already mentioned The Grand Sophy, and it is beginning to be a cliché, I’ll say Rebecca. I was not expecting to like it half as much as I did, and it was a treat to be plunged into a classic about which I knew nothing. Haven’t had that happen to me since Jane Eyre.

11. How often do you read out of your comfort zone? Shouldn’t number 12 come before number 11? Anyhow, since my comfort zone tends to be a moral spectrum rather than a genre, I admit to not reading outside of it as often as I perhaps should. Of the thirty-six-ish books read this year, I’d say five or six were outside my comfort zone, with the farthest out being Bernard Cornwell’s Stonehenge.

12. What is your reading comfort zone? I’m not sure I have a well-defined comfort zone so much as a well-defined discomfort zone. I try to stick my nose into various genres (alright, so I’m bad at science); however, I tend to lose heart when the protagonist has no redeeming qualities, when the romance has been done rubbishly, and when the plot takes place underwater. Honestly, I have yet to get through 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

13. Can you read in the car? Unequivocally no. I found it hard work reading in an airplane, even when doped up on Dramamine.

14. Where is your favourite place to read? I like reading in my armchair, especially when Buster is on my lap and not being too invasive. Bed, however, is the best place.

15. What is your policy on book-lending? Lending books never ends well. They’re inevitably lost or damaged. Conversations with me usually go –

Moi: “Hey, have you read this? YOU HAVE NOT READ THIS. Read. The book.”
Them: “Okay, okay. Can I borrow it?”
Moi: “What, are you crazy? I’ll buy you a copy.”

16. Do you ever dog-ear in books? No.

17. Do you ever write in the margins of your books? I underline more than I write in margins, but I’ll do both in non-fiction works.

18. What about text books? That depends on whether or not I intend to sell them back at the end of the semester.

19. What is your favourite language to read in? Don’t I wish I had a choice!

20. What makes you love a book? Well that’s a huge question. I think characters come first: I can enjoy a book, even admire it, if the characters are all miserable, but I can’t really love it. Otherwise, I think it varies. Sometimes it is whimsy; sometimes it’s humor; sometimes it’s gut-wrenching endings. I do love intricacy and subtle foreshadowing, and little details that link scenes or books in a series and that you might miss the first time through.

21. What would inspire you to recommend a book? If it has made me laugh uproariously, or if it has staggered me and made me lose sleep, I’ll jaw about it to anyone who will listen and then try to dig up someone who would actually appreciate it. Fortunately I’ve got two sisters, and between them I can generally find someone to hop on the bandwagon.

22. What is your favourite genre? Robert Louis Stevenson. Wait, that’s not a genre? Phooie. I don’t think I have a favorite genre, really: I read a lot of classics because for some reason I think it’s fun to listen to Dumas rattle on about Morpheus and sleep-inducing poppies, but classics span quite a range. I try to read pretty widely, returning with regularity to histories, historical-fictions, and fantasies (usually children’s, ‘cuz I’z fouryearsold).

23. What is a genre you rarely read but wish that you did? Science. I will return to you, Arthur Custance! I promise!

24. Favourite biography? I greatly enjoyed The Forgotten Spurgeon, which is only partly a biography. Robert K. Massie’s Nicholas and Alexandra, as my introduction to reading-history-for-fun, holds a special place still. However, I tend to read more histories than outright biographies, and if I were allowed to fudge a little I’d say Thomas Costain’s Pageant of England as a semi-biography of the Plantagenets.

25. Have you ever read a self-help book? No. I don't think so.

26. Favourite cookbook? One with shiny photos of yummy food.

 27. What is the most inspirational book you have read this year? Knowing God by J.I. Packer.

28. Favourite reading snack? I tend not to eat snacks while I read. I inevitably get something on the pages.

29. Name a case in which hype ruined your reading experience. I am not entirely sure what this question means. Is it asking when the last time was that I read a book due to hype and was disappointed? Or is it asking when the last time was that I wanted to read a book and my excitement was killed by everyone’s blathering on about it? I know of no instance for either scenario. The most hyped book I read recently was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and my opinion on that had nothing whatsoever to do with the feelings of the General Populace.

30. How often do you agree with critics about a book? The only critical reviews I tend to read are the ones that get pasted on the back of the book, and which always seem to have been carefully edited to sound positive. And then I don’t generally go comparing my opinion with theirs. (Because my opinion is obviously THE BEST.)

 31. How do you feel about giving negative reviews? If the book is by an author still living, I dislike giving negative reviews for fear they’ll see it and be mortally offended and hate my guts. If the book is by an author now dead, it’s often considered a classic and I try not to register my opinion (because in this case nobody cares). It’s all one and the same, really. You can still tell which books I don’t like because I fail to post reviews on Goodreads.

32. If you could read a foreign language, which would you choose? Latin, I think. It would be useful when read those obnoxious theologies where the author feels it necessary to throw out archaic proverbs without translating.

33. What was the most intimidating book you've ever read? Nicholas and Alexandra was intimidating at the time. Probably shouldn’t have been. But it was.

34. What is the most intimidating book you're too nervous to begin? Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. Because it is big, and possibly quite dark, and probably outside my comfort zone—and also because I fear I might like it too much. Because I’m odd like that.

35. Who is your favourite poet? Poetry is another thing I ought to read more of and don’t. However, I am very fond of Tennyson.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though 

we are not now that strength which in old days 

moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are: 

one equal temper of heroic hearts 

made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 

to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 

36. On average, how many books do you have checked out of the library at any given time? Probably a dozen when the time rolls round to begin writing papers.

37. How often do you return books to the library unread? Never…?

38. Who are your favourite fictional characters? Buckle up, ladies and gents! Alan Breck Stewart (Kidnapped & David Balfour); Uncas (The Last of the Mohicans); Hawkeye (ditto); Howl (Howl’s Moving Castle); Sherlock Holmes (…); Muggles (The Gammage Cup); Sir Percy Blakeney (The Scarlet Pimpernel)…

39. Who is your favourite fictional villain? “Eugenia Wraxton,” said no one ever. Actually, looking over my list, I find most of my favorite novels have antagonistic forces rather than a single villain. Lord Feverstone (The Space Trilogy) is a good one; Inspector Javert (Les Miserables) is also well worth mentioning.

40. What are the books you are most likely to take on vacation? Howl’s Moving Castle. Probably a Stevenson. Also probably The Conquering Family, because it’s the only one in the series I have yet to read, and whatever I may be reading at the time.

41. What is the longest you have gone without reading? “You’re sick of reading? That’s like being sick of BREATHING.”

42. Name a book that you could not or would not finish. Patrick: Son of Ireland by Stephen R. Lawhead.

43. What distracts you easily when you're reading? Buster.

44. What is your favourite film adaptation of a novel? “North & South.” I enjoyed it far more than the book, which is a rare treat: I think Gaskell would have been pleased with the director’s ability to flesh out a novel she felt herself was too rushed.

45. What is the most disappointing film adaptation? The new “Chronicles of Narnia.” I know the old BBC films are, well, old, but in their puppet-style they were far more faithful to the spirit of the books.

46. What is the most money you have spent in a bookstore at one go? I am famously cheap and have a terrible time in bookstores. I buy my books online, and only drop $15 when it’s something like Preble’s Boys.

47. How often do you skim a book before reading it? If it’s a book about which I know nothing, I occasionally flip through. If there’s an unpleasant scene, you always land on it.

48. What would cause you to stop reading a book halfway through? I have this terrible sense of obligation to finish the books I pick up. I rarely put them down unread, unless the lack of morals makes me lose connection with the characters.

49. Do you like to keep your books organized? Too organized. They are perfect at the moment, and I hate the idea of rearranging them so as to fit in the books that are currently languishing about my room.

50. Do you prefer to keep books or give them away once you're done with them? I keep just about everything. If they’re really terrible, I throw them away; if they’re cheap blah books, I shuffle them off somewhere; and if I don’t know what to think of them, I keep them and stare perplexedly at them every time we cross paths.

51. Are there any books you've been avoiding? Jonathan Strange… George Washington… Wuthering Heights… Man, I’m avoiding a lot of books.

52. Name a book that made you angry. The Scarlet Letter, perhaps. It’s been a while since I read it, but I seem to remember being mildly peeved.

53. A book you didn't expect to like, but did? To Kill a Mockingbird. American classics are not usually up my alley.

54. How about a book you expected to like, but didn't? The Black Arrow. I love Stevenson, but that novel was a bit of a letdown: I read it this year and am already vague on the plot. Besides, he portrays Richard III (Duke of Gloucester, actually) as a sadist. You’re putting a real strain on our relationship, Stevenson!

55. Favourite guilt-free pleasure reading? Daddy-Long-Legs. I suppose that’s not really fair: I do feel a little guilty, seeing as I’ve read it half a dozen times already. Still, I think it’s my favorite pleasure read.

Things to Do, Places to Go

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Blog posts have been very scarce around here, I know: five days into August and this is my first one.  For that I apologize.  The brain has been running full steam on Tempus Regina edits, and the idea of then turning my attention to Blogger merely to write something else about Tempus Regina is uninspiring, to say the least.  Don't worry: everyone's questions are safely stored and ready to be hauled out and answered soon.  You've not been forgotten!

In the interim, I thought I would hop onto Mirriam's coattails and chart out my current plans for August.  It looks as though it intends to be an alarming month and I do think it just a little bit cruel of her to so casually fling out there that it is the last month of summer.  I don't like summer for summer's sake: I'll be glad when it shuffles by and I can haul out my fall clothing again.  (Apparently tromping about in boots in July is frowned upon by fashion experts.)  However, in this case I could stand for it to slow down and give me more breathing room.

The motive behind this post is mostly selfish, I admit.  I am going to set out the goals and requirements of August in the hope that, if blog posts are not forthcoming in the following weeks, you will allow me some grace.  For this month, Lord willing I'll...

find out what my fall courses will be

begin my freshman year at college

finish this round of Tempus Regina edits

continue brainstorming for the next project

get Tempus Regina packaged for my beta readers

soldier on with these "driving" shenanigans

determine how soon I can reasonably start wearing long sleeves

begin the business of query-writing

participate in an interview'n'stuff with the notebook sisters

finish reading Plenilune

buy shoes!

 

Imitation, Inspiration, and a Thing Called Voice

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I'm not sure if The Trouble with Imitation answered any thoughts writers may have on the subject of inspiration, but I do know it raised more questions!

Joy sent me a sort of follow-up email this week on the subject of, well, "imitation, inspiration, and a thing called voice."  These are all fairly elusive terms - I'm still not sure I could define 'voice' adequately if someone put a gun to my head and insisted on it (although you can bet I would try) - and ones I'm pretty sure we've all wondered about.  I don't know if I will be able to answer all the questions, but I'll give it a shot in the hopes of clearing up some of the muddle that comes with literary talk.

Joy asks...

...I have also been mulling over the trouble of plagiarizing and copy-catting too much the books we cherish and authors we respect vs. going to the other extreme of not reading at all so as not to let our writings be unduly influenced! ...Sometimes I struggle with the whole art of learning from ‘The Greats’ and imbibing the skills and virtues they were masters at, without messing up with my own style and voice and especially the genre I am writing in. 

 And as for my answer, her second question, and my answer to that, you will have to toddle over to her blog.  Be sure to leave a comment if you have a spare moment!  She and I are both very fond of hearing from readers.

When You Don't Want to Write

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We're writers.  Thus it is, or ought to be, a given that we write.  But we don't write all the time, any more than a farmer farms or a painter paints or a poet poems all the time: we have periods where we can't write, and we have periods where we just don't feel like writing.  In those latter times we tend to rattle around like a pebble in a can, not knowing what to do with ourselves.

What do we do, then, when we don't feel like writing?

And no, this is not going to be one of those cheeky posts in which the author says, "Just keep writing! SURPRISE!"  It is absolutely true that we should not give in every time, or even half the times, we feel the inclination to wander away from our work: if we have the ability to write and yet put it off over and over again, we're cultivating a spirit of laziness, which is no more acceptable for us than it is for a farmer.  But all the same, there are times when it is acceptable to take a break, to rest the mind, to gather creativity once more for another foray into our books.  So,

what do we do when we don't feel like writing?

1. Clean.  I think Jenny may have mentioned this at one point on The Penslayer, but there are few things that rejuvenate the mind as well as a good round of cleaning house.  As writers we tend to be fairly inactive - I know I do, at least - and it is good for the body and the mind to get moving and do something like scrubbing a bathtub or mopping a floor.  (I like bathtubs as well as the next person, I'm sure, but scrubbing them is horrible.  Its misery is only outdone by the task of formatting manuscript chapters in the body of an email.) 

But at any rate, no matter how clean your home or your writing area is on a day to day basis, you can always find something to clean: it's a law of nature.  If you find your creativity running dry, vacuum a few rooms!  Dust bookshelves!  Turn on a little music and scrub dishes!  Honestly, they could do a government study on the creative properties of suds.

2.  Organize.  This may come from being a fairly organized personality, but I find the practice of organizing helps to cheer me up and get my mind working again.  If you have a wardrobe or a closet, spend some time rifling through the clothes and sorting out things you don't wear: it is a productive task and has absolutely nothing to do with writing, which can be very nice. 

Or, on a more literary note, tidy up research material so it isn't tumbling all over the place.  This year I got myself a wicker basket - from Hobby Lobby; wonderful place, that - for some of the books that I use frequently and don't fit on shelves: The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady and W. Keble Martin's The Concise British Flora in Colour; an atlas of the ancient world; a Smithsonian Handbook of Birds of the World; a box of rejection letters.  It helps keep the room nice, and a clean room, I think, is far more peaceful than a chaotic one.

3. Exercise.  I'm pretty bad at this one: I find exercising incredibly boring.  But again, we tend to be inactive, and this is a good habit to inculcate no matter what your vocation is.  Turn on the music again - preferably sprightly tunes - and do some aerobics or some weight-lifting or whatever it is you prefer.  Go out for a walk, if you can, or just toddle out to get the mail (there might be books in it!).  It is not always much fun (though it can be), but it is good for you!

4. Read.  Some people find their reading increases when their writing is in a bit of a rut; I generally find that both flounder at the same time.  But at any rate, if you find yourself with more time on your hands, allow yourself to settle down with a good book.  Whether it is new or well-loved is not critical, although for myself I find that light reading is best.  I can't say David Copperfield has been terribly beneficial, but The Inimitable Jeeves seems to be doing wonders at present.  I think there have been splashes of Wodehouse in this post, actually.

5. Work.  Writing doesn't compose the whole of our work: there are other facets of being an author that can be turned to when the actual business of scribbling has slowed down.  If you have reached the stage of pursuing publication, take this time to work on query letters and research agencies or publishers.  (I know for myself I have no inclination to do this when my current book is coming along briskly.)  Spend a little while researching: more on that to come in a future post, I hope.  Respond to emails or think about marketing.  Edit a previous work, if you have the energy for it.  You can generally find some neglected bit of work that wants doing when your creativity is sparse!

Just because we aren't writing doesn't mean we cannot be productive in other ways.  There is nothing wrong with resting from one labor and turning to another for a time.  Laziness is not acceptable, but a timely break can be both well-deserved and helpful.

The Trouble with Imitation

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Back in September of last year - was it really that long ago? - I scribbled a post for myself and for others on writing as an art.  With so many blogs and self-help books inundating us with tips and keys and the essence(s) of story-telling (I think I saw two different essences in the same week), we can easily fall into the trap of looking at writing as a mechanical process.  Fuse this tricky piece called "a good plot" with this other piece called "good writing" and ta da! Bestseller!

This approach appeals to us because it seems at first blush to offer a quick path to perfection in our writing.  We all want to improve, and the idea that if we just follow three easy steps we'll attain to the literary heights is awfully tempting.  In my post, however, I talked about something we probably all know and must simply be reminded of: the fact that writing is not mechanics, but

a process of growing art.

This current post is something of an extension of that basic notion, for even after we're rooted in it, there is still the difficult issue of knowing how to encourage that growing art to grow. We get to the place where we realize, "Oh goodness.  My writing seriously needs help, doesn't it?"  Maybe the pieces we've written before aren't so bad, maybe they're total rubbish, but either way there ought to come a point sooner or later in time when we realize it is not the best that it can be.  We come to grips with the fact that there are writers out there who just frankly do it - or did it - better than we, and then we begin to wonder how to coax further growth out of our own writing.

"Learn from the best" ought, really and truly, to be trumpeted more often than it is.  Read the Greats.  Don't settle for mediocre writers, the ones who don't do it as well as you, or who write on the same level as you, or who are maybe a little better: digest those writers whose works amaze you, blow you away, and leave you inspired (and perhaps a little jealous) after you've picked yourself up and pieced yourself back together.  "A man of ability," wrote William G. T. Shedd, "for the chief of his reading, should select such works as he feels beyond his own power to have produced."  What ho, Mr. Shedd, you said it truly!

Unfortunately, even this excellent advice can be warped, and writers who do try to "learn from the best" frequently fall into another trap of believing that it is also necessary to copy the best.  I wouldn't say this is always conscious; perhaps the underlying reasoning is mere mistaken logic, where writers suppose that if this man writes this way, and is reckoned a Great, then to be great we must write this way as well.  We're told we are supposed to imitate these people, and to an extent - the extent of a child following in the footsteps of an adult, before that child has learned to walk and direct himself - that is true.  But we've got to be wary of taking the principle too far.

We learn from others, ones who have gone before and ones who are going along with us: true.  We glean ruses, tactics, and strategies from them: also true.  We are not, however, meant to piece together little bits and pieces of authors' styles into something we call "our own" (and if we do, it can only ever be a literary Frankenstein's monster - because no one can forge the original author's signature with the same flair).  Even less are we meant to pick one favorite author and imitate them in all things.  That is to say -

we should not try writing characters like Dickens

we should not try writing romance like Austen

we should not try writing emotion and description like Sutcliff

we should not try writing an allegory like Lewis

and we really, truly, for the love of peachy goodness shouldn't try writing fantasy like Tolkien.

For me, this meant a realization that I am not Jenny and should not try to write like her.  I do not share her poetry-prose flair, and to attempt it would appear forced.  I can certainly look up to her and try to write as well as she does, but always in my own style and what people call "voice."  I admire R.L. Stevenson's descriptions and the masterful plots of Dickens.  Austen's wit is positively hilarious.  Sutcliff can take your heart and wring it like a sponge.  Lewis and Tolkien were masters of their art.  We ought to read them, look up to them, learn from them (and never stop doing so!), but we must also find our own ground, plant our roots in it and say, "This is my place.  I'll gain nutrients from all the writers I come across, but I am confident enough in my own voice not to mimic that of others."

It's a growing art, this writing business.  But it is important to realize that it varies from one person to the next, and we're not meant to try to graft ourselves into some other writer's vine - so that when someone asks us, "Would you rather write like this author or this author?" our response should be, "Um, cake, please?"

More Than Pages Flying By

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This started out as a little post on the benefits of the shocking habit of underlining in books, but as posts are wont to do, it escalated.  I realized as I started out that I really wanted to say something else, and that underlining was tangential; and also that I couldn't say what I wanted to say without first saying some Stuff about some other Stuff.  This, then, is actually a post on reading in general - a snapshot of my thoughts on and approach to the business.

In more literate circles today, it is a common thing to hear people sighing over reading being a lost art.  In general, I tend to agree with the sentiment: the majority approach to reading is not what it was a hundred or two hundred years ago.  On the other hand, like most nostalgic sentiments, it is not entirely true.  Two hundred and three hundred years ago, books were hardly accessible to the general working public - the Enlightenment was significant precisely because of its impact on the dissemination of literature.  Books are familiar things to us now.

And besides that, the fact of the matter is that there are still many people nowadays who do read.  Some while ago in a doctor's waiting room I noticed a mother and her son, both with their noses in books.  Naturally I thought, "Ah ha!  Good habits, good habits!"  ...Then I managed to get a glimpse of the covers and found that she was reading Fifty Shades of Gray, and he was reading Catching Fire.  Now, I have nothing against the Hunger Games series (though personally I thought him too young for it), but the combination was disheartening in the extreme.  It is symptomatic of the "just as long as they're reading" philosophy - as though there were something essentially soul-bettering about the practice of taking in words off a page.  Pinterest says so, so it must be true!

Pinterest aside, there is nowhere that this trend is more noticeable than on a site like Goodreads.  I like Goodreads.  I like keeping track of what I read, and when I read it, and what I thought about it at the time; sometimes I'll even go back later and realize my opinion has changed.  But like most such websites, the practice of adding books, seeing your "bookshelves" grow, and preening over the amount of books read in a year becomes addictive, and the emphasis is frequently on numbers.  If I just read 50 instead of 30 books a year, I will be smarter - or at least I'll look smarter, and hey, that's what counts.  So readers tear through heaps of young adult novels or children's books, some of them good, some of them bad, most of them fluff and most of them forgotten too soon.  The magic seems to be in the reading, not in the books.

This is not the attitude we ought to have when we read.  Naturally, there are times when we need to relax with a light story, even a children's book; there is nothing wrong with allowing the brain a rest and a pick-me-up, anymore than there is something wrong with sitting down with a good movie after a tiring day.  But this pattern should not be characteristic of our lives.  Our list of books-read should not be 80, or 70, or even 60% composed of fluff.

Reading is not an automatic process by which we gain wisdom.  The words and books themselves are what exercise the mind, and in the words of another quote that pops up frequently on the internet: "One must always be careful of books and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us."  We should not approach reading with a philosophy of carelessness, and we ought to think more than we do about what books we spend time reading.  I am not talking about "bad" books, because most of us accept that concept: I mean the average, the fluff, the entertaining and non-taxing reads that can be whipped through in three days max and which thus teach us absolutely nothing about perseverance.  Methinks, too, that Mr. Darcy would not consider this to be "improving our minds by extensive reading."

Half the moral, then, is that more books does not necessarily mean more knowledge and wisdom.  We must first take care in what we read, and then (the other half of the moral) how we read.  Just as everyone has his own method of writing, everyone will have his own method of reading; these are a few of the tactics I employ.

vary genre

Note that by genre I do not mean the difference between YA dystopian and YA fairytale, but something more like the difference between a biography, a fantasy, and a classic.  Goodreads' "shelves" are helpful in this respect, allowing me to have different categories for history, historical-fiction, fantasy, classics, mystery, what-have-you.  A quick glance at the list of recent reads is enough to tell me that my last-book-but-one was a fantasy, the previous a mystery, and it is time for something rather more sizable.  I am not strict in this respect; my reading pace keeps me varied.  But if I find myself jaded in reading, it is generally due to an overemphasis of either light or heavy reads, and a switch is good for the brain. 

try not to rush

I confess, when I get toward the end of a book I tend to speed up - because nothing beats the thrill of finishing, especially a long and weighty book.  But rushing does not help cement it in my mind, so I have to force myself to go slow and actually think about what I read.

underline

Yes, the actual topic of this post!  I know many readers scorn and deride this, feeling that it somehow desecrates the book, but it is extremely helpful - the practice, like the repetition of a sentence, sinks it more deeply into the reader's mind.  And, too, it leaves the reader's mark on the book; I don't know about you, but I like to see what passages stood out to previous readers, and I like to feel myself continuing the trend.  I tend not to underline in novels simply because it brings me out of the flow of the story-world, but if there is a section I want to remember, I can always write it down in a notebook for reference.

review

After finishing and publishing this post, I realized I had made an unforgivable omission (I blame the headache entirely).  There is a fourth and final step to my approach to reading, which Goodreads also assists in - reason #25 to like the site!  When I finish a book, I almost always write up a brief review: summarizing what I liked, what I didn't, and what, in general, I really gleaned from the pages.  It is for myself, not for other readers, so I tend to be quite subjective here.  I try to keep it short and to the point, and I also try to make it fair, level-headed, and as peaceable as I can - even with a horrible book, there is no excuse for a rage-fest.  No reader should revel in atrocities, nor revel in making fun of them. 

Another part of this process for me is reviewing the book on the review site I help run, Squeaky Clean Reviews.  These are much more in depth, and as I try here to be more objective in my conclusion, it is really the more helpful of the two; I find that a book I review here sticks with me in much more clarity than a book I merely acknowledge on Goodreads.  There's a reason we had to do book reports in school, and when done correctly, it is as enjoyable and satisfying as it is helpful.  My course for literature this year is entirely on Shakespeare and includes detailed essays on each work as I complete it.  I still wouldn't call myself a real Shakespearean enthusiast, but I really do enjoy the process, and I am certain it has helped me engage and understand the writing far more than I would otherwise.  You may not consider it a fun idea, but I would encourage you to give it a shot and see if it helps you retain the book more thoroughly.

Boring and Bored

pinterest

A quote, wandering around on Pinterest as quotes are wont to do, states: "If you think reading is boring, you're doing it wrong."  It amused me at the time, but then I continued on and didn't think much about it until last night, which happened to be one of those where sleep seems to have gone on a brief holiday.  It occurred to me then that in many cases (not all, just many), "reading" can be exchanged for "a book" and that quote would be as accurate.

Don't get me wrong: there are some books I have attempted that I ended up finding indescribably dull.  But some of them, probably most of them, would have been redeemable to some other reader.  I don't think there are many books that are totally, irrevocably, objectively boring.  Even if a book is badly written, there is almost always some sort of amusement to be had from it - if only the kind of amusement derived from laughing hysterically over the sheer badness.  Other books have been written for a very small niche, and people in the niche find them fascinating.  I wouldn't enjoy a book on the different kinds of amoeba or the habits of the triple-eyed, red-spotted hairy antelope (actually, if there were such a thing I would be very interested), but others consider such works the cat's meow.  As Anna quoted just the other day in a different context:

there are no uninteresting things, only uninterested people.

We ought to be careful, I think, before allowing ourselves to be bored by a book.  We are far too ADD in the 21st Century; why else would authors be instructed to have a "catchy" first line and to be sure their story grabs the reader's interest in the first chapter?  As readers, we are no longer willing to give the book our attention - it has to grab our attention.  And if it doesn't do so quickly, we tend to put it aside and pick up something more in line with our tastes.

I don't like to let myself not finish a book, generally not because of any well thought out reason, but because it goes against my grain.  Sometimes I do set one aside; just recently I tossed away a book I had been reading for research, highly disgusted with its lack of helpfulness and the author's obnoxious use of the word "hegemony."  But most of the time I stick to the book with a kind of grim will, while a series of thoughts run through my mind.  I start out by telling myself, "Maybe it will get better," and that takes me through about half the book.  At that point I lose hope, but start telling myself, "I've gotten this far, and I'm just too stubborn to quit!"  That gets me three quarters of the way through.  Then, if the book still hasn't picked up, I've stopped being at all hopeful and started being desperate, but can't bear to give up so near the finish line.  That would be like the blonde who swam three quarters of the way across the Channel, got tired and swam back.  (My apologies to all blondes!)

All of that to say that as we read, we should be cautious of our opinions, considering them closely and not cementing them too soon.  If a book is neither dirty nor mere drivel, we ought to give it time to develop before "pronouncing an adverse judgment," as Mary Bennet would say.  If it is outside our usual range, good: we might find we like these new stomping grounds, and if not, we can at least have a glimpse of how they look.  If we find the style or language trying, fine: our brains can always use a bit of exercise with wrangling out the meaning of Shakespeare.  If the book is huge, it's good practice for keeping our minds engaged - and besides, the feeling of success is greater in the end.

None of this is to say that we should never put a book aside as long as it isn't obscene.  But I do think we ought to consider why we're not finishing it, and be able to give ourselves a good reason.  We should not let ourselves turn away for the mere trifling reason that a book seems "boring."  Perhaps the real issue will turn out to be not that the book is uninteresting, but that we are simply uninterested - and the book might even be one that we would do well to make ourselves be interested in.

Tweeting Fathers

I didn't used to be interested in American history.  For one thing, there isn't as much of it as there is of - well, just about any country in Europe and Asia.  Besides, I had The Landmark History of the American People for an American course years ago, from which I learned that there have not been such things as Color or Life from the Revolution to date.  (All the pictures in that massive tome are black and white, and to a child, it felt like reading the obituaries.)  Needless to say, not much was got out of that course.

However, about the time I started reading histories and biographies in some degree of earnest, I decided that I ought to incorporate at least some works on America's past.  So I read David McCullough's John Adams, and discovered that the founding of the United States was actually interesting.  The men had voices and personalities; through the writing of an another like McCullough, you can see the world of the times unfolding - and the writers of The Landmark History got it wrong: there was color.  It was quite the breakthrough for me, I assure you. 

So after a short jaunt to the Roman Republic in April, I've picked up Ron Chernow's Alexander Hamilton and returned to the United States in its early years.  One thing I especially love about these books, and the time period in general, is the insults that men hurled at each other.  (I know I'm supposed to be appalled, but I'm more inclined to wonder why on earth such wit ever went out of style.)  Reading the invectives used by Hamilton when he was just getting his start in the States - one man's writing was "puerile and fallacious" - and the fact that just the other day I opened a Twitter account gave me the amusing thought, Whatever would the Founding Fathers have done with social media?  I can't help but feel it would have curbed their wit; I'm not sure Hamilton could ever have managed to fit any of his thoughts into 140 characters.  One can imagine the butchery of the English language that would have inevitably resulted -

@TJefferson - Sir, ur grasp of ecnmc thry is abysml.  I hmbly submit to u that u r an idiot.  #washingtonscabinet  #federalbank

@JAdams - Yes, I sabotged the elect'n.  Get ovr it.  #election  #chump

@GWashington - Receivd notes @ 11 pm.  Emailing 65 pg treatise 2 u now.  Dont think adqutly addressd pt 22 on pg 59.  What u thnk?  #sleep?

@JMadison @JJay - I allude to the fishries. #federalistpapers #random  

@Seabury - Such is my opnion of ur ablties as a critic, that i vry much prfr ur disapprbtion 2 ur applause.  #awestchesteridiot

(Real quote from Alexander Hamilton, if you un-butcher the English.)

The beauty of Hamilton's wit is lacking, as you can see.  And amusing as it is, the humor comes in a bitter way - for, judging from the popularity of Twitter, people nowadays don't struggle at all with reining in their thoughts to 140 characters.  There is no wit to be lost.  I can't say I want us to go back to speaking in quite the same flowery language that the men of the 18th and 19th Centuries used; sometimes it's hard to sort out the fellow's meaning from his blathering.  There is, however, one thing that ought to be preserved, and that is the beauty of thought and its expression. We are, after all, writers, and that should make both things doubly dear to us.

"There's a moral somewhere in that, if you like morals."

- the eagle of the ninth, rosemary sutcliff

Cross-Cultures

pinterest board: wordcrafter

This year I started reading some of The Doorway Papers, works by Christian anthropologist Arthur C. Custance.  I finished the first book, Noah's Three Sons, in January; most of you probably remember that I did a follow-up post called Image Dei, inspired by some of the things Custance wrote.  Apparently his writing tends to be inspiring, because this post flows from the second book, Genesis and Early Man. 

Most of the essays in Early Man deal with the paleontological record and are more technical than the those in Noah's Three Sons, which made it slower going for me.  (Bones get boring after a while.  So do peccary teeth.)  His last section, however, is titled "Light from Other Forms of Cultural Behavior on Some Incidents in Scripture," and this was the one I found to be of particular interest.  He takes some of the more puzzling narratives and instructions in Genesis and expands upon them, showing how they are linked with cultural patterns the world over.  For instance, he starts with the statement in Genesis 2 that "for this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife," and goes on to show not only the prevalence of having the man go to his wife's family, but also the practical merit of doing it in this manner and not the other way around. 

I confess, some of the points he addresses were not ones I had ever thought very hard about; but they provided food for thought all the same.  Custance addresses most of the cultural details, including polygamy, without passing overt judgment, just as the Scripture tends to mention them in passing and without critique.  Rather, he delves into the why's and the wherefore's of these cultural norms, presenting them in a clearer light to the befuddled Western mind.

Naturally, this is interesting for its bearing on Genesis.  That was, after all, Custance's intent.  However, being a writer, I tend to look at everything from a writer's point of view.  In this case, the problem of cultures started me thinking about world-building - the crafting of peoples in fantasy worlds that are somehow different from cultures past and present.  We want ours to be unique, and though we may be inspired by ancient Egypt or Norse mythology, we prefer that the inspiration be subtle rather than obvious.  No one wants their story to be the one where the reader can go two pages and say, "Oh, I know where THAT'S from."

All that is perfectly reasonable, and provides incentive for branching out and exercising creativity.  But in reading Genesis and Early Man, it occurred to me that there is as much - or more - to be learned from the similarities between cultures as from the differences.  We tend to assume that the culture of the Eskimos will be vastly removed from that of the Australian aborigines, and to some extent, due to the demands of environment, it is; and yet at the same time, there are some amazing parallels to be noted between them.  Recall the Mankind has a "common ancestor," Noah, and a common starting place, Mesopotamia.  Cultural arteries all flow from that heartland; links between traditions stretch from one end of the earth to the other.

This is a fact worth considering, especially as we build our fantasies and populate them with people out of our imaginations.  Of course we want each culture we create to be different, but what elements do they have in common?  In marriage and in family, in religion and in government, are there threads that unite them?  If the world is tied to Earth, and perhaps even populated by humans, what links still exist between our world and theirs?  I have always thought it a good idea to come up with a history for the peoples; so much of what makes up a culture and its foreign policy depends on its history, so it seems impossible to create a believable world without one.  And now, added to that, I am of the opinion that anthropology - the study of Man - is just as pertinent a study for any writer.

In fact, I'm having a hard time thinking of fields of knowledge that aren't pertinent to a writer.

Whimsy

Last night I finished Jean Webster's novel Daddy-Long-Legs.  Not for the first time, of course: I've read it perhaps half a dozen times over as many years, and yet it never fails to leave me happy at the end.  Like Jane Austen, Daddy-Long-Legs is a comfort read.  Whenever I am blue, and whatever I'm supposed to be reading isn't cutting it, it is usually a choice between Pride & Prejudice, Emma, or Daddy-Long-Legs.  (Not Mansfield Park: I love that book, but I'm sure it gets my blood pressure up.)  This time it was The Shield Ring that, in true Sutcliff style, was just too emotionally investing, and Daddy-Long-Legs came off the shelf.

The book is not difficult, or mind-stretching, but it is the sort of book that makes life seem brighter by portraying it with zest.  It picks up all the little details and spins them into a gossamer story - appropriately gloomy in some places, for it wouldn't be as cheery in the other parts if there were not at least some grey bits.  Everything is touched with whimsy, much more, perhaps, than real life has from day to day; but maybe that in itself is what makes the book so darling.  It characterizes the momentary, simple (and sometimes profound) pleasures we encounter that feel too good to be true.  They don't usually last long in all their vibrant glory and I don't think it possible to have them constantly (I wouldn't want to confuse these things with joy proper, which ought to be a steady characteristic of our lives); there are many times of struggle, of grief, of worry and stress and hardship where such brilliantly happy moments are rare or nonexistent.  But, like candy or a vacation, they are very pleasant during those once-in-a-whiles when they come.

daddy-long-legs

"P.S. It's raining cats and dogs tonight.  Two puppies and a kitten have just landed on the window-sill."

"College opens in two weeks and I shall be glad to begin work again.  I have worked quite a lot this summer though - six short stories and seven poems.  Those I sent to the magazines all came back with the most courteous promptitude.  But I don't mind.  It's good practice.  Master Jervie read them - he brought in the mail, so I couldn't help his knowing - and he said they were dreadful.  They showed that I didn't have the slightest idea of what I was talking about.  (Master Jervie doesn't let politeness interfere with truth.)"

"The accompanying illustration is hereby reproduced for the first time.  It looks like a spider on the end of a string, but it isn't at all; it's a picture of me learning to swim in the tank in the gymnasium.  The instructor hooks a rope into a ring in the back of my belt, and runs it through a pulley in the ceiling.  It would be a beautiful system if one had perfect confidence in the probity of one's instructor.  I'm always afraid, though, that she will let the rope get slack, so I keep one anxious eye on her and swim with the other, and with this divided interest I do not make the progress that I otherwise might."

"We're reading Marie Bashkirtseff's journal.  Isn't it amazing?  Listen to this: 'Last night I was seized by a fit of despair that found utterance in moans, and that finally drove me to throw the dining-room clock into the sea.'  It makes me almost hope I'm not a genius; they must be very wearing to have about - and awfully destructive to the furniture."

So you see, I always feel happier after I've read a few of Judy Abbott's letters to Daddy-Long-Legs-Smith than I was when first I picked up the book; maybe that has something to do with the cloth binding.  Somehow cloth binding makes the story even better.  And now, with that comfort book finished, I've begun A.A. Milne's The Red House Mystery.  It's amusing to see his typical Winnie-the-Pooh style carry over into a whodunit.

what are some of your comfort reads?

Imago Dei

I'm reading a book (whaddya know?) called Noah's Three Sons. It is the first in The Doorway Papers, a series of essays on theology and anthropology by a Canadian named Arthur C. Custance, who is, I gather, not very well known. Probably the reason is that he thinks so very much outside the box, and that while I have thus far found him very orthodox, he challenges the norms of biblical interpretation. In Noah's Three Sons he traces God's plan of redemption through the lines of Shem, Ham, and Japheth and the impact that those three families (Semitic, Hamitic, and Indo-European) have had throughout the history of Mankind. While I will admit up front that I don't agree with all his theories, his major point is profound and well worth considering.

It is Custance's contention that Man has a threefold nature (not surprising, perhaps, when it is considered that Man was made in the image of a triune God) and lives in three realms: the spiritual, the physical, and the intellectual. He further argues that each son of Noah was entrusted by God with a particular responsibility relating to that - Shem, to Man's spiritual need; Ham, to the physical; and Japheth, to the intellectual. I could hardly do justice in one post to Custance's arguments in support of this, which span about 300 pages, but a cursory look at history tells in favor of it. Consider: the three major religions of the world (Islam, Judaism, and Christianity) are all Semitic in origin. It has been discovered that the vast majority of basic (and ingenious) inventions were created by Hamitic people, who, Custance postulates, were the first to spread and subdue the earth. And philosophy was cultivated by races of the Indo-European stock, most notably the Greeks.

Custance does not try to say that individuals of each stock can only focus on that one part of their lives. But he shows the way each race as a whole has carried the responsibility for the part of Man's nature that was entrusted to it, and further shows how the relations between Shem, Ham, and Japheth down the ages have been used as a vehicle for the workings of God. In laying out his arguments, too, Custance bears witness to the glory of God's prime creation, Man, even as he has been corrupted by sin. It is the belief of some that Christianity - or any religion at all - robs Man of his greatness; but while it is true that one of the basic doctrines of Christianity is that we are nothing outside of Christ, yet it is also true that in another way, Christianity exalts Man more than any other religion or "non-religion". He is created in the Image of God. He is a little lower than the angels, but crowned with glory and honor. He is capable of unimaginable things, good and, fallen as he now is, bad. He is a creative genius. His soul was made for God. He lives in time, but God has set eternity in his heart. It was for Man, that creation which God pronounced "Very good," that Christ was slain before the foundations of the world.

Man is all this, and more. Day to day it is difficult to see; one does not easily look at a stranger and remember that the image of God resides in them. Sin has done its corrupting work, and continues to do it. But the difficulty does not lessen the reality of the fact. Sin is not of the essence of Man, and by that I mean that when it has been stripped away, Man does not cease to be Man. Oh, no! In His essence Jesus was Man, but he was not sinful. Man as created is a glorious being, and even now that glory, derived from His Maker, remains.

O LORD, our LORD, how excellent is Your name in all the earth!

- psalm 8

Oh, and I Hate Your Book

There is a lot of talk nowadays about whether the Internet is making us stupid. I don't know that I agree with that; I incline to the belief that rather than making people less intelligent, the Internet provides those people who didn't have much intelligence to start with to put that stupidity up where everyone else can see it. You can find examples of this anywhere on the Internet and one comes to expect it in places like Facebook and the comments on YouTube videos. Unfortunately, however, it also shows up in places where one would think people might show a little more tact and wisdom, like the reviews on Amazon. It has become such a simple business to put one's opinions out there that most people no longer think about it, and it really, truly, absolutely shows.

How do you write reviews that are both honest and tactful? Obviously this is not such a big deal if you liked the book, but what if you didn't? In some cases the nursery rule "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" ought to be referred to; I think this every time my eye happens to catch a YouTube comment about how awful this or that song is. Really, if you don't like it, you don't have to listen to or read it and you certainly don't have to tell the whole world about it. However, now most publishers send out copies of new releases to bloggers and owners of websites in return for honest reviews, so readers are obliged to give their opinion. What to do if you disliked the book?

determine why you disliked it

Whatever you do, don't go post an Amazon review that says, "This book was so stupid and I just hated it. I couldn't get past page 67." The whole point of reviews is to show prospective buyers what they will be getting, so avoid spoilers, but try to give the basic pros and cons of the book. If you disliked it, there is no call for venting your spleen in a public place. And while the publishing house does say that reviewers are not obligated to give positive feedback, do recall that you have received a free book and try to be respectful and appreciative.

opinions or truths

If you are going to review books, keep in mind objectivity versus subjectivity. It may be your opinion that the book was too slow in getting started, but recall that others are fond of novels that start off slowly and build over a longer space of time. If a book offends due to immoral content, on the other hand, this is more than a matter of opinion; it is a matter of conscience, especially if the publisher and the author profess to be Christians and to publish and write books grounded in Scripture. However, in both cases reviewers should maintain tact. Don't figuratively burn the book in your review (you may literally burn it if you want) and certainly do not attack the author. Amazon is not primarily a forum for your views; it is a marketplace and your thoughts on books should be presented in a helpful manner. Sites like Goodreads are geared more toward your own views and preferences, but even here common courtesy should be maintained.

remember that authors read reviews

Anne Elisabeth Stengl posted the other day about an author's reaction to feedback, and she made the point that the negative is much more memorable than the positive. Granted, authors should have tough skins; granted, if they can't take people not caring for their books, they shouldn't read reviews. I certainly don't think authors should ever respond to a negative review in order to tell the reviewer what an idiot they are for not loving the author's baby. However, on the part of the reviewer, they should always be as courteous as possible and not cause unnecessary offense. Don't end a review by warning readers away from other books by the author, especially if you have not read them, and be extremely wary of referring to the author directly. (For instance, don't say that the book was so bad that the author must be going senile.)

find the silver lining

Yes, I'll admit that some books don't have a silver lining. Sometimes the best you can say is, "Well... It has a nice cover!" But if there is something good to say, say it; don't be too stingy with compliments. Maybe the characters were all as flat as day-old pancakes and you have to remark on this (not in so many words, please), but if the author did an admirable job with research, mention that as well. Try to keep in mind that, even if appearances are to the contrary, the author probably did labor a great deal over their book. This doesn't mean that you should never say anything negative about anyone's book, but it does mean that you should be careful how you say it. Be honest, but be tactful. The traits can be combined.

choose the books carefully

When I started getting books to review for the site I help run, I didn't know much about modern novels and so I failed to be picky enough. I've since learned that, being more accustomed to old books than newer ones, I have to choose carefully which ones I want to review in order to avoid giving out single-star reviews. If you don't like fantasy, don't request a review copy of a fairy tale. It's amazing how many one-star Amazon reviews start out with, "I don't actually like [insert particular genre] but I thought I'd give this book a try," progress to, "I hated it," and end with, "Free review copy provided by [name of publisher]." Remember that the publishing house is spending money in order to send "free" books to you; don't be selfish or rude. Only request a book if you honestly think it might be good.

respect opinions

...especially if those "opinions" are on moral issues that the reviewer saw in the book. Amazon has a function to comment on reviews, but I think this should be reserved for comments on reviews that are rude or otherwise uncalled for (and even then, commenting is usually a waste of time). If someone dislikes a book, you won't convince them to like it by commenting on their review to tell them all the wonderful things about the novel that they missed. If another person has given their honest, respectful opinion, don't get in a tizzy over it if that opinion happens to be negative.

What do you think? If a reviewer, do you find it harder to be honest or to be tactful about a book you disliked? If a writer, how do you respond to negative feedback?

Imagination Limited

When writers write and when readers read, they often explain their love of stories by saying that the words take them away to other times and places. Their imagination is fueled by stories and, in the case of writers, finds an outlet in stories. While it is true that very small and seemingly inconsequential things in daily life can inspire a novel, books and the written word continue to be the prime medium for the activity of the mind; reading promotes some degree of intelligence.

To have a well-rounded mind, however, it is necessary to not focus on a single genre of literature. You shouldn't read only fantasies and fairy tales; you shouldn't even have a steady diet that is 53% fantasy and fairy tales. You shouldn't have a steady diet of romances, "Christian" or secular. Nor should you wear a track from the library door to the historical novels. Histories should not gather dust while fiction is being constantly pulled off the shelf. There is no genre that can be indulged in to the exclusion of all others; the mind will be stunted if fed the same thing day after day, just as the body would if you only ever ate carrots or potato chips.

Oddly enough, one of the bits of advice most promoted by many writers today is that you should read extensively...in the genre of your choice. If you want to write historical fiction, read historical fiction. If you want to write fantasy, read fantasy. Never mind that this may very well mean that your plots, characters, story arcs, and what-have-you are being fed to you by authors who have come before, or that you are stuck in the rut of one genre both as the source and outlet of your imagination. 'Read in one genre, write in one genre' is the rule of the day, and so authors are pigeonholed into specific fields of writing to develop themselves there until they are ready to expand (if not forever).

This is not wholly ridiculous. From a marketing standpoint, it is true that if you write and publish a historical fiction, then write a fantasy and want it published, you will likely have to seek out a new publisher. I speak from personal experience; I am currently querying Wordcrafter, a fantasy, and it is almost like being an entirely new author. I have no guarantee of acceptance. But I wouldn't trade the time I spent writing that story for the certainty of publication, and I would far rather have been writing Justin's story than grinding out another historical fiction. Of course, I am writing a historical fiction now. I simply didn't want to then, because I didn't have the inspiration for one.

Writing is an art, although it must be balanced with the more "practical" side of marketing, and some of the most renowned artists are those who experimented in many different mediums. Michelangelo was a sculptor as well as a painter and architect; Leonardo da Vinci dabbled in a dozen things, from sketching to painting, from writing to inventing. In the realm of writing, Agatha Christie is most famous for her mysteries, but she also wrote romances. C.S. Lewis wrote essays on faith and philosophy as well as fantasies and "science fiction." Rosemary Sutcliff, acclaimed for her Romano-British works, wrote children's books, stories set in the Middle Ages, some nonfiction, and retellings of The Iliad and The Odyssey.

These artists were never equally lauded in all mediums, but that was not their purpose; their imagination was fired in many different directions, and so they followed that and did not remain inside the box of their own especial genre. Their minds were well-rounded, so that they could and did tackle fantasy as eagerly as nonfiction, sculpting as readily as painting. Practically speaking, if you read widely, it is unlikely that you will be able to stop your mind from developing tales in many different genres - and this is not a bad thing, even if you are not as skilled with one as with another. It's good for the imagination to expand, and not to be allowed to stagnate in a single medium.