This is about reading. An important aspect of writing is reading for a variety of reasons. I’ve been thinking about my reading lately, and the choices available to me. Here are the extremes.
1. X is hot. Let’s publish everything we can about X, because readers will buy it.
X in this equation equals vampires, tough urban fantasy chicks with tramp stamps, faeries, supernatural chick lit, and, increasingly, zombies. Good books exist in all of the X categories. It’s that there are usually so many of these published that some of them are cliches of their genre. This reader tires of things that try to be the same, and hopes for the inevitable implosion sooner rather than later.
And unfortunately, it closes me off from reading maybe some good books, because I’m tired of same-i-ness.
2. You like X. You like Y. You like Z. Let’s put them all together into a book.
Let X be Jane Austen. Let Y be zombies. Let Z be supernatural monster hunters. Should all of these be in a book together? Let X be vampires. Let Y be werewolves. Let Z be glitter. Should all of these be in a book together? Here, you’re likely to get something of genius, but often it’s like a child’s experiment in a kitchen, a potful of chocolate chips and catsup.
The tightrope most publishers walk for readers is between two extremes. Some authors and readers think there is a conspiracy theory for keeping the freshest things from coming through. Is there? Well, no more so than the rest of the history of publishing.
Add to this mix for me, personally, that my tastes are quirky. There’s no one type of book I’m going to read. A good example of a book I love is Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. Another? Sorcery and Celia. Another? Lest you begin to stereotype me, Happy Hour of the Damned.
I also love books that turn expectation on its ear. Jim Hines does it in his Jig the Goblin books. Just flips the expected.
And, of course, I’m a sucker for poetic craft. This year, Gregory Frost gets my imagery pat on the back, with Peter Beagle coming in second. Enjoy, Greg. Beagle is my favorite author across time, space, and dimension. That he came in second this year says a lot about Shadowbridge and Lord Tophet.
Yes, my tastes are eclectic. I find myself shrugging my shoulders at the usual book shelf offerings, and I rely on you to tell me what I should look for. That works sometimes.
I wish that more of what I liked, and less of what I don’t were published now, but publishers really need to sell to people other than English teachers with Dickensian tendencies. When I feel a lack, I find succor in an old, dead author. It’s all good.
I am convinced that original things escape by accident in publishing, a risky application of my second equation that works. And then, their themes are gang piled until we reach the first equation. That is where I am discomfited. I can’t see that literary books do any better than genre either. Risk is not the nature of publishing. Until it is.
Good luck, little books. Come find me. I am waiting for you to stretch my aesthetic appreciation.
Catherine
