Reading like a writer

I am extremely critical of the books I read. To me, reading is never just about having fun and forgetting about it. Even if I'm having fun I want to know why, and what it is about the book that's entertaining. If I'm bored or frustrated with a book, I have to figure out what's wrong, so I can learn not to put it into my own writing.

Many "How to write" books suggest "Reading like a writer," and I guess that's what I'm doing. And the more I can tell about what I like or don't like about a book, the better I feel. This isn't a slight on the author's ability to disappear into their own work. It's about me and whether I can see through the words to the craft beneath. If I can, I feel like I'm learning how to improve my own.

One concrete example of a lesson well learned comes from Karin Slaughter's thriller Triptych that I read last month. The characters in this novel are extremely memorable. One excellent specimen is a prison inmate named Zebra. He is named for his alternating black and white teeth, and that image combined with his horrific actions mean I can't forget him even though he appeared just briefly, in a flashback.

These small details that grow huge in the reader's mind are like the memory aid of remembering one detail about each person and attaching it to their name. Bill has a big nose, Harriet has hairy arms. Those examples are blatant, but they can be subtle and the reader will still get it. It can be the difference between remembering a character by thinking, "Oh right, that guy, um..." and remembering them as if they're a real person.

Not all lessons come from good books. I recently read a mystery that frustrated me from beginning to end. I finally figured out it was because I had no idea what was at stake in the story. At first it seemed like a quiet plot, more about internal monologue than action, and then suddenly there were guns and life-threatening situations. I wasn't sure if I should take it seriously. The atmosphere hadn't been developed so that I could follow the characters into their dilemma. I was left behind at the side of the road wondering when I'd gotten out of the car.

Being critical of the books I read doesn't mean I don't enjoy them. I remember dissecting poetry in high school and discussing whether the dissection took away from appreciating the poem. I thought no, a poem can be dissected and still be beautiful. The whole is more than the sum of its parts. You can write a thousand word essay on the use of plant names in Shakespeare, and still enjoy the play as a regular play. It's a good thing, too, or I wouldn't be able to appreciate Shakespeare, Austen, Hawthorne, any of the Romantics, or modern crime fiction as a whole.