When I pick up a new book, I do so knowing I have much less than a 50-50 chance of finishing it.
Some I can't force myself to read past the first few pages, whether because it's a poor excuse for a story or because it's poorly told. By the bottom of page three or four, the author's voice and reality are solidified in my head. If I'm standing in the bookstore, this is where I pause to decide whether to buy the book. I am not great at predicting which stories I will read over and over, and push into the hands of friends and strangers. The more pressing question is whether I'll end up regretting having spent any portion of my life reading this.
Some books that pass the three-page test end up being those I wade grimly through, skipping half a page here or a chapter there, and struggling to the end in search of any clue that this will have turned out better than I'd hoped. This is often the fate of a book some friend liked, or by a previously enjoyable author who has hit the wrong note. Or even, I reluctantly admit, a book too complex and multilayered for the amount of mental energy I currently have available. After hearing it praised enough, I might start over. Sometimes on the second attempt I'm caught up in the current, delighting in what I'd missed previously. More often, I find myself chewing my way through the reading equivalent of one of those movies remembered chiefly in terms of seat hardness.
Then sometimes a book catches me up from the start and carries me along well enough to feel like a keeper; when life interrupts, I set the book down with every intention of coming back. But when the opportunity arises, I will look at my bookmark, judge how eager I am to immerse myself in that story as opposed to how much work it would take, and pick up something else instead. The unfinished book hits the shelf--or, more often, the giveaway box. As with a book I've skipped through, the book might get a second chance. But this time I'll be analyzing it: What works? What sags? What should have been handled differently? Why did I put it down and what makes it worth finishing this time?
I'm sure all readers can immediately name books they tried to like. The more difficult factor to identify is what stopped each book from being likable.
With the price of books, and the increasing rarity of my scraps of "spare" time, I make quicker and harsher judgment on what is worth reading. Which brings into focus the other side of the equation. What makes a story worth reading, and what makes the rare jewel of a story worth re-reading?
If you can put your hands on three books you've read repeatedly, can you put your finger on what makes each of them worth revisiting? Is it the same factor in all of them? Or the compelling lead male character in this one, the style of humor in that one, and the hmm-worthy philosophy in the last?
Being read is the primary compensation a writer receives. If we could identify and prioritize the factors that produce a story that is worth reading twice, what factors would we name, and how important--relative to one another--is each of them? What do you think?
Amber
Visit http://www.shapeshiftersinlust.com/ tonight!
Some I can't force myself to read past the first few pages, whether because it's a poor excuse for a story or because it's poorly told. By the bottom of page three or four, the author's voice and reality are solidified in my head. If I'm standing in the bookstore, this is where I pause to decide whether to buy the book. I am not great at predicting which stories I will read over and over, and push into the hands of friends and strangers. The more pressing question is whether I'll end up regretting having spent any portion of my life reading this.
Some books that pass the three-page test end up being those I wade grimly through, skipping half a page here or a chapter there, and struggling to the end in search of any clue that this will have turned out better than I'd hoped. This is often the fate of a book some friend liked, or by a previously enjoyable author who has hit the wrong note. Or even, I reluctantly admit, a book too complex and multilayered for the amount of mental energy I currently have available. After hearing it praised enough, I might start over. Sometimes on the second attempt I'm caught up in the current, delighting in what I'd missed previously. More often, I find myself chewing my way through the reading equivalent of one of those movies remembered chiefly in terms of seat hardness.
Then sometimes a book catches me up from the start and carries me along well enough to feel like a keeper; when life interrupts, I set the book down with every intention of coming back. But when the opportunity arises, I will look at my bookmark, judge how eager I am to immerse myself in that story as opposed to how much work it would take, and pick up something else instead. The unfinished book hits the shelf--or, more often, the giveaway box. As with a book I've skipped through, the book might get a second chance. But this time I'll be analyzing it: What works? What sags? What should have been handled differently? Why did I put it down and what makes it worth finishing this time?
I'm sure all readers can immediately name books they tried to like. The more difficult factor to identify is what stopped each book from being likable.
With the price of books, and the increasing rarity of my scraps of "spare" time, I make quicker and harsher judgment on what is worth reading. Which brings into focus the other side of the equation. What makes a story worth reading, and what makes the rare jewel of a story worth re-reading?
If you can put your hands on three books you've read repeatedly, can you put your finger on what makes each of them worth revisiting? Is it the same factor in all of them? Or the compelling lead male character in this one, the style of humor in that one, and the hmm-worthy philosophy in the last?
Being read is the primary compensation a writer receives. If we could identify and prioritize the factors that produce a story that is worth reading twice, what factors would we name, and how important--relative to one another--is each of them? What do you think?
Amber
Visit http://www.shapeshiftersinlust.com/ tonight!
2 comments:
Interesting question. I'd have to think about other books -- but for the moment, the adults in our family are passing around all the Terry Prachett books we own again. This is not a second reading for us; it's more like a tenth. And every single time, we find something new. The plots are apparently simple and straightforward, but the prose is full of wit and of wisdom and of commentary on people in general. They are definitely keepers.
Sorry about the late reply to this. Damn broadband let me down over the weekend. Good topic and difficult for me to answer because I read so many different genres and personally I like books that make my mind work overtime. Not all the time. I do like a light read with something heavier in between. But I've read James Joyce for crying out loud so I can handle heavier reads.
It also depends on where I'm reading. Holiday reading for example will be different to books I take away when staying with friends or family. If there's going to be activity around me that affects my choice of book as opposed to when I have time to read quietly.
I can tell you my top three keepers, oddly all trilogies.
The Gormenghast Trilogy by Mervyn Peake. Why? The rich language.
The Black Jewels by Anne Bishop. Dark, seductive characters did it for me and the whole concept.
Wreathru by Storm Constantine. Again, the concept caught my imagination. These are books I wish I'd written.
In erotic romance Jules Jones and Alex Woolgrave's 'The Syndicate' sticks in my mind because after reading it I wanted to write a m/m book and I wanted to write for Loose-Id. Then I went on to read work from people such as Jet Mykles etc. Much of Jet's work makes me smile and laugh a lot and we need that in our lives. I want to reread some of those again, but what makes a book not only a keeper but one I know if I get the chance I want to revisit truly varies for me. It could be because it haunted me, because I loved the characters, or simply because it made me smile or laugh. It stayed 'with me' in some way after I turned the last page and closed the cover.
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