I went to the library yesterday, the East branch here in East Nashville. And I finally, finally became a member. I learned that I got $10 of free printing credit every month, which, had I become a member when I first came here, would have saved me possibly $5 or so, and I would be $5 richer in my life today. Ah! I finally got the card, because I need more books. I need books, and I need experiments. I want to read things that I wouldn’t ordinarily read, I want to take gambles, and explore, but I don’t have the money to just buy these things. I also don’t want to own them anyway. My bookshelf is already now quite full from McKay’s trips, full of used books. I’m happy to have almost every book I’ve got.
Yesterday I went to the library in search of The Firm, by John Grisham, which Stephen King talks about in his book On Writing. I was talking to my grandpa about the Hoopla app, the library apps where you can read things digitally for free, as long as you have a library membership—and it was that that really made me want to sign up. I tried online, it didn’t work for some reason, and I went to the library. Finally got my membership, took only a second, got a card, and walked out with three books. None of them were The Firm, but I could go and get it today from the other branch not much farther down the street. One was a Stephen King book called Holly.
You can see how Stephen King writes so many books, and long ones. I understand. He knows how to embellish. He knows how to paint a picture. He knows how to work in details, so many small, delicate details, how to create characters, how to bring them to life, how to describe a scene, all of these things. He has that so dialed in. You know he can just crank that out, muscle memory, that practice. And it’s good. I feel like I could read his writing about anything, whatever he decides to write about, because you just like the way he writes. And he actually does say in On Writing that for him, the plot is not important. He’s figuring it out as he goes. What that means then is that the writing is the engine, right? His writing is the engine, and he’s building it as he goes. Therefore he’s enjoying every line he writes. There’s movement in every line, he’s building it as he goes. That makes sense to me.
At the library, I went for two books just based on their look and what they seemed to be about. I took them home and was eager to crack them open, see what the pages held. This was totally exploratory reading.
The first book, I made it about five pages in. I might have made it seven. The subject matter was fine—a modern take on old Grimm fairy tales, but I didn’t like the writing. I could tell that it was good writing, high-level, intelligent. But it was clunky and jarring for me. I was trying to figure out why it was, and I read a bit of it aloud to see if that would help. It was a strange mix of short and snappy, and then with (to me) esoteric vocab interlaced. Somehow that combination was jarring and displeasing for me. That’s all I can say about it because I didn’t really try to analyze it, but that’s what happened. I didn’t want to keep going, even though I was somewhat interested in the story. Actually, I don’t think I was that interested either, because I didn’t care for a fable at that time, and it was also kind of meta, a modern commentary. It wasn’t really sucking me in.
What’s interesting is that this book was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. And I could tell it was definitely “a good book”. It just wasn’t for me, and especially I didn’t particularly like the writing style. At least not in that moment.
It reminded me of Dune, which Parker had wanted me to read. I tried to read Dune, I was interested in the story, but I didn’t like the way it was written. It bothered me. I thought again, it was jarring, I didn’t like the descriptions, and I didn’t like the dialouge, etc. I just didn’t find it right, to me.
I suppose that doesn’t happen to me often because I know my tastes and I know what I like, and I go for things that I generally know I’ll like. But I did get the Artemis Fowl series, the first few books from McKay’s, and felt similarly about it. The writing was not to my taste, even though I was interested in the story.
I wish someone could explain why to me. I would like to know the subtle reasons why. I could probably dial in some theories if I tried. One theory is that I don’t seem to care much for short and abrupt, and you may not be so surprised to hear based on my prolific use of commas and “ands”. The flow is important to me, the rhythm. The Artemis Fowl was quite short and abrupt, generally. Lots of periods and sentences that started with “And.” Such as, “She flew to the moon. And she didn’t have a parachute.”
You may say something Hemingway, but Hemingway has a rhythm and flow that I like. He also is very conscious of it, and he will explode out into long sentences, surprising you and varying the pacing. He knows what he’s doing. So, simply saying that I don’t like “short and abrupt” is not quite right. I think the better word is “jarring” or “stilted”. To say that the rhythm or flow is not right for me.
I am also attracted to certain words, I think. There are so many words, of course, but there are still so many that people can probably have their styles in the words they use.
JK Rowling uses “surreptitiously”. She uses “roared”, “furtive”, “nursing”, “twinkling”. Now, those are words I like.
King used this phrase, in Holly, about some middle school boys, “sprawled out” on the ground, “slurping up” their milkshakes. It was something like “the boys were sprawled out on the grass, slurping up their shakes.” I read that last night, and I remember that I did have a kind of physical reaction to those words.
I didn’t like this combination of words, in the sense that I would never write them. But I almost did, because I knew that it was good, and stylistic. It just wasn’t for me, I think the movements of the mouth that you have to make when you say “sprawl” and “slurp”. I like the word sprawl, I don’t really like the word slurp. And then together, and plus “shakes”. “Sprawling out and slurping up your shakes.” I don’t really like that. But I appreciate it. It’s strong. And you know Stephen King likes it. (I kind of do like it.)
I had read Harry Potter as an American, and with American English. But after I watched an interview with her, I started to read the books in her voice, with an English accent. And suddenly, it changed everything. I could see then why she was/is so attracted to certain words. I already thought the writing was great, fun, and flowing, but when I started to read/think of it in her voice, with her accent, suddenly it was even better. I thought of all of the characters in English voices, and they all really started to pop.
Such as the word “surreptitiously”. If you say that a Midwestern American, it sounds pretty terrible. That’s probably why we don’t use it. (At least, I don’t use it, and don’t know anyone who does.) When you say it as JK Rowling though, in British English, it sounds amazing. It flows and rolls, and is suddenly, incredibly fun to say.
Parker has been watching climbing videos, of these guys in London, and in one of the videos they said “mortifying”. It sounded great. In Midwestern American, “mortifying” does not sound that great. It sounds a little clunky. But in British English, “mortifying” sounds pretty amazing. Like “surreptitiously”.
Another word that I’ve just thought of: rancor. Say “rancor” in American English. Not sexy. Say “rancor” in British English. Sounds amazing.
The second book that I had gotten on a whim from the library, was much more engaging for me. It was funny and was flowing, and catching my interest. I liked the writing—it was the subject matter that was not for me. And that’s not surprising, because it was about a shopaholic wife who moves with her husband to LA and finds herself in famous circles, wanting to be a stylist for a famous actor. It was that kind of thing. I’m clearly not the target audience, no. It wasn’t meant for me. But I thought, why can’t I still enjoy it? Because I had thought that maybe I would, as I like antics, humor, and social commentary, etc. I think part of the deal as to why I didn’t want to keep going is that, unless there was some real great twist, and everything turns out to be an illusion or something, I knew from the beginning what the story was going to be about, and I personally didn’t care that much. It’s not a story I’m really interested in, even though I could tell it was going to be funny and entertaining.
After trying out those two books, I picked up the first Harry Potter book, just to see how it compared, and if I was just being biased or judgmental, whatever, based on my mood. But no—I was immediately sucked in. I liked the writing, I liked the flow and pacing. And already, I could see the seeds that were being planted, from those first paragraphs, the hints that were dropped, the story that was before us, about a strange world, about mysterious characters, evil… all of that. I could see how that pulled me in, me personally. Why that was something that I wanted to read.
Then, I moved on to Holly, Stephen King. And right away, I was interested. It was gruesome actually, and dark. As Stephen King often is, right? I have only actually read Misery, and that was a long time ago. But it was pulling me in. I wanted to know what was happening to this man, kind of, even though you knew it was some classic criminal-murderer-type stuff. I enjoyed his writing, his portrayal of characters, descriptions, etc. His voice. That’s what it is. His voice. And then, I was interested. What’s going on here? I want to know more. And so, this one, it pulled me in. The content is a little dark for me, not much whimsy in the tale, and crime stories are not my go-to, but I like the writing, and I want to see what happens. I want to study the master. I read about 100 pages last night.
HAKUMUSU 