My mom was an inveterate reader. Reading “a book” was for amateurs. She usually had three: the current book-club selection, the book she really wanted to read, and something light on the nightstand to fall asleep by. It didn’t take much to sweep her into a story. A page or two and she was gone, caught up in the fictional world unfolding before her eyes.
Since so many of my early memories include my mom reading or taking me and my sibs to the public library to pick out books of our own, it’s not surprising that I grew into a reader, too. I was the kid who welcomed rained-out school recesses, because that meant I could sit at my desk and get lost in a story instead of playing outside. Finishing a book series left me sad and even a little annoyed that the author couldn’t write fast enough to keep up with my need for the next installment. Fortunately, I was never without reading material for long. There were enough stories out there that I could always find another satisfying one to dive into.
This began to change in college, where most of my waking hours were devoured by classes, homework, and a part-time job. Sure, I could make time to read, but it was harder to snag my attention. With so much real life inundating me, a book had to really grab me in order to ensure I’d pick it up again.
I hate to say it, but that trend continues decades later. Life got busier, noisier. While I still enjoy reading, it’s slipped lower in the pecking order on my to-do list. Most books are easily set aside, where they wait until I can find enough head space to pick them up again. These days, it’s rare that I encounter a schedule-crasher of a book, one that sucks me in so completely I can’t put it down. Apparently, I require more than I once did to leave this world behind.
Thing is, I have no idea what constitutes “more.” What makes a novel compelling enough to keep us awake and turning pages way too late at night? What makes us put off chores and read through meals because we can’t wait to see what happens next?
The author side of me would like to identify this “it” factor as well. Publishing is beyond competitive. Short on time and keen on marketability, agents and publishers want to know within the first few paragraphs that the manuscript they’re reading will not only hook a reader but potentially create word-of-mouth buzz.
So, readers, what compels you to compulsively turn the page? What element of a book grabs you and won’t let go? Is it plot? Characters? Writing style?
As always, you can leave me a comment on this page or drop me an email (jillmorrowbooks@gmail.com).
I look forward to reading what you have to say!
Jill, When we’re in school, much of our reading is for information (pass the next test) but for a few school reading can be for enjoyment. Maybe like the pleasure that comes from that perfect “beach” book. Reading philosophy was always like that for me. But at some point in our lives (I’m generalizing too much, I know) we begin to read less. We still buy books but they sit on our shelves – enticing titles calling out – but merely additions to the pile we may or may not ever get to. I loved it when someone (can’t remember who) described all those unread books we surround ourselves with, as our aspirational library. I live in that library. As to my theory as to why we should live in that library and not the buy-a-book, read-a-book library, it’s because when we are young, the soft mushy stuff in our heads is filled with questions, and books offer answers of a sort. As we get older we might hear someone ask a question about something fascinating only to think, what a Bozo – probably never read Plato’s Republic, or some other such dismissive internal dialog (don’t say it out loud if you like having friends). So, what questions do we have left in life? We buy the books, but those books may just be the kind that are preaching to the choir. We really already think we have all the answers we need. Oh sure, here and there we hear something new and fascinating, still – mostly new things we stumble on are simply yawn worthy. Yes; Hubris is our nemesis! To get to your question about what you should be writing about, all you need to do is find out what it is that tickles the curiosity in your potential reader. I used to think young people have little curiosity, or were only interested in the superficial things in life. Not always true. Some have just never been told the world is bigger than they imagine and some of it is downright amazing and fun, along with the painful and tragic, of course. Don’t write a book that preaches to the choir; find out what questions your audience long to have answered in your stories and write that in a way to engage them. I offer this advice to a successful writer from a man who has trouble writing a cogent post card, so yes, ignore as much of the above as you care to – including the word “the’. But, us philosophical types tend to love a good argument or to lecture whoever crosses our path! 🙂
I teach Old English for fun (yup, there are still willing victims out there, pace Woody Allen), so you know my tastes wandered from the best-seller trail a long time ago. Which is neither here nor there: I feel a bit inadequate in the face of all the current stuff that in all likelihood I’ll never get to. I know I’m probably missing all sorts of gems, but then again, when did being up-to-date ever matter to me? And reading Beowulf with other enthralled souls is a joy!
In my own recreational reading I lean towards classics now. Under the influence of my publisher, Christine Mathieu (you can read les runes in her name), I’ve now got a stack of Penguins and Oxford Classics to get through that includes Balzac, Zola, Flaubert and Stendhal. Definitely a different world, and no boast: I’m just filling in big gaps in my reading history. I read more slowly too, though I’m not sure if that’s age or just paying better attention. Here’s hoping . . .
I also remember my mother taking time out in the middle of her (usually busy) every day to sit with her lunch and a book at the dining room table. NOT to be interrupted! And your mom’s enthusiastic book-group participations.
p.s. Lest you think I’ve had a literary brain-transplant, I do still go back to Tolkien regularly!
Joe, I love the phrase “aspirational library”! But in my case, I like knowing that all those books are waiting for me to crack open and read, even if it takes me a while to get to them.
I think we need to stay curious all our lives. I’ve always enjoyed reading non-fiction, particularly biographies (I’m interested in the way people act and react with the times in which they lived – I’m big on context.) Curiosity is so subjective, but I hear you. Surely part of what compels a reader to turn a page is to find an answer to an unknown, be it based on plot, character, or personal interest. It’s certainly based on “what happens next?” At the same time, I’ve learned over the years that I’m not particularly unique: if I am interested in a topic, there will be other people out there who are, too. The trick is finding a more universal way to present that while staying true to what I want to say.
Glad to provide an outlet for you “philosophical types”!
Robert – because of the eras your reading encompasses, I’m wondering what you think of the assertion that there are only seven basic narrative plots used in writing.
Whatever the age of your books, they’re satisfying whatever compels you to read!
Robert, there were no pigs flying in the sky this morning, so I figured …
You figured right! 🐖 A very stable pig . . .
Certainly, medieval narratives tend to be on the formulaic side. Modern notions of ‘originality’ and ‘novelty’ would have seemed childish distractions to, say, Chaucer, who despite his blinding brilliance never orchestrated a single plot-line of his own (neither did Shakespeare, for that matter). He found all of his in others’ writings. He frequently tells you that he writes ‘as myn auctor seith’ (‘as my author/authority says’), i.e., according to whoever he lifted the basic story from. Sometimes he names sources that scholars reckon are complete fictions, ‘cause even if he IS being original, the done thing isn’t to flaunt the fact. Why should you presume to come up with a brilliant story all by yourself when there are so many great ones already out there? The real art is how you make whatever you take up (from wherever) your own.
I wouldn’t presume to number how many archetypal stories there might be. Seven’s a nice number, I suppose, but I imagine you’d have to look past all the quirky particular s that make the whole game interesting in the first place to whittle it down that far.
How’s that for not answering the question, your honor?😏
Such a good question! I just read BOOK LOVERS by Emily Henry and I could *not* put it down. I absolutely devoured that book. I could tick off a list of good things about it, but I’m sure those things exist in other books that did not grab me by the throat. But some of it is context… I was on a camping vacation in the woods with no technology and a brain that I’d unplugged from both the world and my hurricane of tasks at home.
I recently read a book called THE RIVER by Peter Heller, and it was a book club pick so I’d hadn’t expected to care about it. This one grabbed me by the throat as well. The characters were real, earnest and sympathetic, their situation genuinely high stakes (it’s an outdoor adventure/suspense with excellent character development) and the pace was fast and percussive. It was also physically a short book so I could feel the story running through my fingers as I turned the pages.
Isn’t it maddening that there isn’t one answer for this? Other people in my book club did not care at all for THE RIVER.
Kristina, thanks for some more reading suggestions! (Yes, I am jotting down titles.)
Subjectivity is the whole problem, isn’t it? Someone can love love love a book that another person puts down after a page or two. I wonder if there’s a zeitgeist involved here, something in the air that draws nearly universal interest at a certain time and then moves on?
We may never have the answer, but from responses I’ve received (both here and email), it’s starting to look to me like character development is huge — universally understandable emotions reacting against situations with which a reader is unfamiliar seem to have an edge.
Close enough for rock and roll.