Being a well-read writer
They say that to be a writer – or indeed, an author – you have to also be a reader. And not only do you have to read but you have to read widely as well. But what does that actually mean? To read widely?
When I was younger, I thought it meant I had to read books I had no interest in whatsoever. I used to think I had to read classic books written in a language and style that was so out of date that I spent more time looking words up in a dictionary then I did reading the actual book. I used to think it meant I had to read books on subjects that had no interest to me, but which should have since they’d sold so many copies and been read by so many other people. These are the arguments presented to me in high school English.
I can remember having to read certain books in school, just like everyone else. And, like all high school students, I rallied against it, simply because it was something I was made to do.
I was told I simply must read Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby and To Kill A Mockingbird. I was told I had to appreciate them because they were highly successful books and classics of literature. I was told this and told that and told this and that again and again.
But, just because these books are classics of literature, it doesn’t mean I got anything from them. I was in high school, remember? Catcher in the Rye may be the great American novel, but I couldn’t understand how a book that sold so many copies could have, it seemed to me at the time, no plot at all. The Great Gatsby may be a commentary on the class structure of society, but I couldn’t understand why Gatsby wanted Daisy…to me the girl just wasn’t that great. And To Kill A Mockingbird may be a seminal comment on 20th Century race relations, but what did that have to do with growing up in suburbia surrounded by middle class white people who’d never seen an African-American in their life?
At the time, I thought the whole thing was pointless. Here I was, being told to read books that I could find no relation to, while at the same time being force fed a certain way to think because of these books. It didn’t sit well with me.
Things got better at university, I have to admit. Not only did I see an improvement in the variety of literature, but also a depth to the issues these books raised. No longer was I required to read books simply because they were classics and had been part of the curriculum since before I was born. The books I was encouraged to read had something to offer to me.
I remember being blown away by Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine. Here was a book that offered a romanticized view of exactly what I grew up in – a suburban world adrift from the rest of reality yet painted in such vivid colours that it was the entire world to the characters of the story. I was stunned at how Bradbury could turn even the most mundane of events into pure literary music; and it remains a story I go back to time and again, just so I can remember what it was like to read it in the first place.
I read The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and it changed my view of science fiction forever. Before that, I thought sci fi was simply the realm of William Gibson cyberpunk, or the universe spanning colonization of Star Trek, or the multi-faceted worlds of Lucas’ Star Wars. But Atwood changed that for me. She crafted a world in which the dystopian future of society held as much tension and excitement as one of Niven and Pournellie’s otherwordly trips; a world in which possible futures seem almost probable.
I read short stories by H G Wells, Roald Dahl, Ernest Hemingway, Arthur C Clarke, and dozens more. These short stories showed me glimpses of other worlds, and the best glimpses too. They were the ones that left most of it up to my own imagination. From these writers, I learnt how to construct my own worlds and to depict them just enough to give the reader their own glimpse of them, to give the reader the chance to use their own imagination.
I also read the classics, or re-read as the case may be. The Time Machine, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Heart of Darkness; the books that have created genres which continue to be delved into by writers and readers of all generations. These books showed me the way books were once written, and if taken in the context of contemporary works, they taught me how much things may change, yet still stay the same.
At university, I came across other authors who have taken the rules and twisted them for their own benefits. David Brin, Tim Powers, Ian McDonald, and especially Geoff Ryman. Ryman wrote a book called 253, and it consists of 253 characters who are all riding on the London tube at the same time. The book is constructed of 253 words exactly for each character, one to a page, and the story of what happened to the tube that day grows in the reader’s imagination as each character’s individual story is told.
I also re-read Harper Lee, and Salinger, and while it was hard to put aside my prejudices of the past, a new appreciation for these works grew in me. Maybe it was just because certain agendas weren’t being flashed before my eyes on the second reading, that I was better able to grasp the point of them. Or maybe it’s just because I’m supposedly grown up now.
I also read illustrated books by Shaun Tan, Gary Crew and Graham Rawle, and I learnt that good books aren’t always necessarily novels; that you can portray your stories in different ways, to amaze and astound your reader. From these I learnt that novels are not always straight stories told from A to B; and that the definition of a novel is as flexible as novels of today are.
But, even after reading all of these authors, I still had a doubt. True, these other writer’s stories were helping my own writing, and because of this I knew I wanted to be a writer. But was I reading widely enough?
Some days it felt as if my head were full of so many other writers’ words that my own couldn’t get out. Some days I felt as if I was wasting too much time reading and not spending enough time writing. Sometimes my inner author – that little voice I have inside me where other people have a conscience – just wouldn’t leave me alone.
What plagued me was this: if you need to read widely to be a good writer, then how do you know when you’ve read enough?
The answer is: you don’t. You never do.
I once taught a class on how to write novels by using eight books across a variety of genres and styles as required reading. I told the students to look at these novels not purely in terms of whether they are enjoyable books or not. I told them to go beyond their opinion, to look at the novels as stepping stones for their own writing. I told them to look at how these novels have been crafted, how they’re structured, to see how they can write their own novel. And it’s from teaching this course that I think I’ve finally worked it out.
No, you do not have to read widely to be a writer. But it helps. And anything that helps you write is a good thing.
Reading widely helps you see what has come before you, what voices have been used, what works and what doesn’t. Reading widely gives you insight into stylistic issues, problems with genres, and questions of structure. Reading widely shows you what types of books are being published and which companies publish them. And reading widely gives you a base that you can build on with your own writing, so you can take it to places it’s never been, to find your own voice.
So do yourself a favour, if a writer you wish to be. Read everything you can get your hands on. Don’t prejudice a novel just because you have to read it. Don’t prejudice an author just because they may write in a genre you don’t usually read. And don’t prejudice any book, for any reason. Be a devout reader, an educated reader, a critical reader. Be a reader. And someday, a writer you just may be.
- Luke Keioskie
