Three Kinds of Books

Three Kinds of Books

Stephen King recommends that writers should read two kinds of books. We should read good books to inspire us to write well and we should read bad books to assure us that our own work is up to the standard of something that has already been published.

Since coming across that advice, I’ve taken a new kind of delight in reading all kinds of books. The only difficulty I can see with King’s suggestion is the problem of sorting. How are we supposed to know what good means?

Salman Rushdie has suggested that the way to edit is to add and remove parts from a piece until it resembles good writing. He says the way to understand this goal is to read. I think that is the answer – if we read enough, we will start to develop an idea of what constitutes good writing.

There are books that stay with us after we close the cover and there are books that beg us to reread a sentence, a paragraph or maybe even the whole work. These are good books and good writing.

As we read more, we start to develop a clearer impression of what is good and what is not so good. I don’t think it’s particularly important whether anyone agrees with us, but there is something about truly good books that makes most thinking readers see their quality.

The only addition I would suggest to King’s advice is to divide the good books into those that I feel I could emulate and those that I must admit are beyond me.

This separation doesn’t mean that one type is better than the other. They are just different.

Literature succeeds when it communicates well. There are books that do this with plain language and those that do it with brilliant flourishes of vocabulary and clever turns of phrase.

When I read David Foster Wallace or Cormac McCarthy I am amazed by their erudition. I must concede that there is little chance of me matching their command of English or brilliant imagery. While their genius is daunting, it doesn’t cause me to worry that I can’t write.

There are other authors who use plain language and leave as lasting an impression as the linguistic virtuosos.

One of my favourite writers is Haruki Murakami. His prose is spare and there are few long sentences or words that send me looking for a dictionary. When I read Murakami, I get a feeling that I might be able to produce something like his work. I get the same impression reading John Irving or John Steinbeck.

I sometimes wonder if it really is any easier to write like Murakami than to produce something reminiscent of McCarthy. Sometimes when work seems effortless, it is an indication of mastery. When we watch bricklayers work, it is the one who makes us think this is so simple we could do it who is the expert.

Perhaps the biggest compliment I ever had for my writing was when a listener at an event came up and said that after reading Creatures of the Rock, he knew he could write. The man had no idea how many hours of writing and revising it took to turn out that book.  It is hard work to produce something that seems effortless.

Stephen King’s suggestion to read widely is fabulous advice for all writers. Read bad books, read books that seem beyond your ability and read those wonderful books that you know are great and somehow believe that even you could write.