Books, Readers and Writers

It is interesting how as writers we all have a unique view, a unique voice, but it really came to me recently how different we all are as readers also. I mean, I Know that not Everybody likes the same books I do, and vice versa believe me! But it is really interesting the different things people pick out of books to notice, or even fixate on, that sometimes leaves me going, Huh? I can see, sometimes anyway, some of what people are saying but sometimes it leaves me going huh? Did you even read the same book I did? And then it came to me, as we bring who we are to ourselves and where we've come from to our writing voice, people do the same thing when they read. They read through the filter of the life they've had, the life they live, their life experiences. And sometimes from places of envy or jealousy that they don't even acknowledge to themselves.

And another interesting thing I've realized recently that what people say doesn't really say anything about the object they are talking about, book for example, but it says volumes about who and what the person is saying about themselves.

Hmmmm, so maybe I should be quiet and go off and read now. ;) ;)

So what kind of reader are you?

Loss and Knowing authors?

What is it about books and authors that bring us in and make us feel we know a person, and know them well enough to be sad at their passing?

What is the connection that doesn’t seem to transcend into other mediums as well? At least not for me. I can enjoy a great piece of art or sculpture, without ever feeling the tinge of sadness that the originator is no longer around to produce more.

But with authors and books it is different. From Robert Jordan’s passing earlier this year with his to-be-completed final novel left behind, to the recent passing of Tony Hillerman, author of the southwest Indian mysteries with the characters Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn.
Whether I have read the person’s work or not there always seems to be a loss in the world somehow.
That the world is somehow an emptier place without them.
A world a little less rich.
A little less varied.
A little less interesting.

Maybe it’s not knowing the author so much as the characters?

And feeling their loss?

There is only so much time to read and so many books to read nowdays, and there is a sense of loss when you pick up a book, especially if you really like the book and the characters, of knowing there won’t be anymore. No new frontiers and ages for the characters to transcend, no new growth or possible changes for the author to come into, and spread on to us. As a writer I mourn that possibility. As a reader I mourn.

Writers as Readers

I have heard, and I tend to agree, that to be a successful writer you must be an avid reader. Most all the writers I know are readers, especially the accomplished writers.

It’s interesting that writers are such readers. It wouldn’t seem to be just because they are reading to see what their competition is putting out, is it?

Do we read to find others in worse shape than we are, or to find answers to the conflicts we have ourselves? Do we read to find ourselves another world, one richer and more vibrant than our humdrum everyday sameness life? I, for one, would rather read about the excitement of the hero/heroine than be one myself. But perhaps we all are heroes and heroines in our own lives, in some small way, and perhaps to only one or two. But isn’t that what really matters when we come back to our own small little world? The grace and vibrancy that we breathe into everyday life. Isn’t that what defines who we truly are?

Who are you today? What are you reading? Why do you read?