Ever since I blogged about what a reader may take against in 1st person narrative, I’ve found the idea of reader chemistry nagging away at me. Why are some words so loaded for one person, and totally neutral for another?
But I never meant to blog about it so quickly.
But then, as some of you will know, I was struck down by a monster virus. I couldn’t stop shivering. Or coughing.
I had absolutely no physical energy. All I wanted to do was read. But I was quite likely to fall asleep in the middle of a page.
And I’d become very, VERY picky about the books I was willing to pick up. And not at all in the usual way. WHY?
Reader Chemistry Memory
But there was one scene that I suddenly found fascinating. Noddy had a boiled egg for breakfast. I got my mother, who hated reading aloud, to read it to me. Every day. For the whole three weeks that bronchitis took me in those days.
Maybe it was because my throat was so sore, I could barely swallow and the idea of a breakfast egg was a paradise of normality. Certainly, Noddy went back on the shelf, the moment I was better.
Only then bronchitis came round again the following January and, hey presto, boiled egg readings were back on the menu again! My poor mother. But she stuck with it, like a Trojan.
Reader Chemistry Revelation
What astonished me, though, was that I picked up a book I had been struggling with. For weeks. And the reader chemistry was truly ba-a-ad.
Mystery Book
It got onto my TBR pile courtesy of a dear friend, with whom I share some, but not all, of my reading tastes. He actually brought it round and pressed his copy into my hands as a Must Read. He was vague about why.
To be fair, he did say, “It takes some getting into. Give it 50 pages and see how you feel.” The cover carried some impressive review quotes. It had been short listed for major prizes.
Hrrmph.
i’d read it in bed, in the bath, with lunch, after the end of the working day with a glass in my hand… A blank. To say I didn’t engage was an understatement. It left me blank.
Reader Chemistry – Feelings
Well, actually, I did have a few feelings. Mild irritation at the typography. Who publishes a whole novel double spaced?
Some impatience with the author’s rejection of punctuating speech in the traditional way.
Though I suppose that does answer my first question. If you’re trying to make an avalanche of text less threatening, you have to find the white space somewhere.
Feelings, yes. Not strong ones. And I still hadn’t made the 50-page mark.
Slow Burn Reaction
I have no idea why I picked it up again, when I fell prey to The Virus. But suddenly I was sitting by the fire all day and I’d got through 50 pages, almost without noticing.
I began to see beauties – tiny little moments, perfectly caught; a sense of the slow-wheeling seasons; a measured, unemphatic narrative, where crises might be caught in a flash of stormlight, but then fell away as the world turned.
It was – is– hypnotic. I am still reading it.
Will I get to the end? I don’t know. Maybe it will depend on how long I have a temperature. Maybe not.
Many reviewers thought this novel was extraordinary. They could just be right.
I think I know the book you’re talking about, unless not using paragraphs is a new fashion. It took me ages to get into it, then I loved it.
Well, if I still love it at the end, then I’ll reveal the book’s title and confess my failings, April.
It’s really odd how I still get a little shock when the author doesn’t change paragraph on a new thought. Even now, when I’m about half way through and loving an awful lot of it.
I clearly imprinted on paragraphs pretty much out of the egg.
It does seem to make it needlessly hard for the reader, although, if it’s the novel I’m thinking of, it made sense as a way of telling the story (that isn’t a story).
Hugs on the virus, Sophie – there seems to be a lot of it about. I hope you’re feeling better soon. I loved your infant self hanging on Noddy’s boiled egg. I didn’t enjoy EB’s short stories either but can relate to that. 🙂
Thanks Liz, getting better by the hour!
I was pretty dismissive as a toddler, I fear. I wanted plenty of story for my buck.
I can relate to the ill-pickiness. Last year when Christmas went missing, all I could read (or re-read) were my Monica Edwards’ Tamsin and Rissa books. Luckily on shelves in my bedroom with all my favourite children’s books. I rejected everything else. I hope the improvement in both book and health continues.
It’s odd when you’re feeling ill, this chemistry with a book thing. Experienced it myself. Generally I want something innocuous and undemanding (Heyer is always a good choice), soothing as well. It sounds as if this tome of yours may be just what the doctor ordered.