I'm not sure when it was I started reading again...I mean really reading, not just reviewing what I had to teach the next day; e.g. the 25th time I reread The Great Gatsby or Death of a Salesman, searching for some inner meaning I might possibly have missed the first 24 times I read either one. What I'm talking about is actually going to the bookstore or the library and picking out something I just want to read.
I'm thinking now that it might have been right about the time I decided to finish writing my first novel...which I never did, by the way, or at least haven't yet, even though I did finish the second, third, fourth, and fifth ones I subsequently started. There is something about suddenly identifying oneself as a writer that, whether you like it or not, makes you part of the club; that club of semi-egotistical, semi-terrified, semi-disillusioned band of brothers (and sisters), who through some form of temporary insanity begin attempting literary recognition.
And as part of this club, one quickly recognizes that one must also read what the other members, past and present, have written. Granted having been an English major throughout some 11 years of college and graduate school (not to mention teaching the subject for over 30) did give me a leg up, so to speak, when it comes to consumption of literature. But if you ever think you are more than an average reader, all you have to do is walk through the tiniest local library or bookstore to realize how many books are out there that you haven't read.
I don't recommend this "test" by the way, if you have just recently begun to think of yourself as an author, because it will most certainly cause you to throw up your hands in despair over the possibility of ever being published. Still, you do find yourself doing simple math problems, like if I read a book every five days and there are approximately 5,000 books in the fiction section of the library I am walking through, then will take me 25,000 days to read them all, which is approximately 68 years, not including the library's other branches that might carry different books...oh never mind, it's time I simply don't have, regardless. Besides, the chances of me reading through eight shelves of Danielle Steele novels when I couldn't even get through one, is pretty minimal.
So what about the books one does decide to read? And how does one go about making that decision? They say you can't judge a book by its cover, but often the truth of that statement is not so quickly discerned. It wasn't until I was at least 40 years old and had been teaching for some time, that I learned the covers of most books are not actually chosen by their authors. In fact, a friend of mine in the publishing business informed me that this task is usually handed off to some young intern whom the editors assume will read the book, then search through a collection of templates for just the right artwork (electronically, of course) to attract the appropriate reader to his or her most enjoyable reading experience.
If you have ever taught teenagers, you will instantly recognize the obvious flaw in this approach. Let me give you a hint: it starts with "read the book," and ends somewhere between "artwork" and "electronic." Try to imagine, for example, what the cover of To Kill a Mockingbird might look like were said non-reading intern to have designed it, or worse yet, Lord of the Flies. "Look Mom," your eighth grade son says cheerfully, "here's the book we have to read this summer. Can we buy it?" You look at the cover, gasp in horror, then quickly drag your son out of the bookstore, vowing to attend the next school board meeting...or at least, to send your husband.
But let's just assume that the book you take off the library shelf does have a cover that at least partially suggests its contents. What next? The title, of course. As a teacher, I usually challenged my students to find the title within the text of what we were reading...okay, maybe more liked bribed them with the promise of extra points. Granted my original goal was to get them to read at least that far, but many good discussions often sprung from this pursuit as well. Now, having become a writer, or at least claiming to be one, I realize that most authors chose their titles from something in the novel that expresses the point or even overall theme of the book. More often than not, it is something one of the characters actually says. Since my publishing friend says that the authors generally do chose their titles, then I'd say this a good place to start.
Then there is the inside cover or back of the book blurb that can be helpful...or not... Sometimes the information here is just a glowing list of reviews from semi-well known other authors who were paid, cajoled, threatened, or otherwise convinced to comment on this novel. Since they are probably all over 30, one can be relatively sure they actually read the book. However, I don't know about you, but adjectives like "spellbinding," "compelling" and "emotionally charged," along with assuring me I will "not be able to put it down," don't totally convince me I will love this novel.
Fortunately, the actual descriptive blurbs (I have learned through my own publishing experience) are generally required to be provided by the author (and then are read by the aforementioned intern, which can be good news or bad news). They are supposed to include plot details (without giving it away totally), information on the setting, and basic character analysis. I've found this works pretty well overall, though I have had an occasional letdown. Who knew, for example, that a young man who goes "searching for his destiny in unknown territory," only to "unknowingly murder his own father" and "fall into an incestuous relationship without his knowledge" was actually a translation of Oedipus Rex.
I have finally realized, though, that the library is the best source for random reading. If you choose the wrong book, it didn't cost anything, and no one will ever know whether you actually read it, or just kept it for a couple weeks, and then tossed it casually in the return bin. So far, though, I have to admit that my new reading binge has been a humbling experience. Granted I sometimes read a book and say what the heck? Why is this writer so famous and I can't even get my friends to read my work? But other times, I finish a novel and just sit there and say, wow, I wish I could write like that. Humility, I must admit, is truly the best inspiration.
