The art of reading

Reading is, of course, the first step to writing. I'm still a long way away from publishable in many ways: style, pace, ideas... you name it, I'm short of it.
But books can begin to weave a path for me, patiently showing me example after example: this is how it is done. This is what works, what doesn't. Books never tire of trying to improve me as a writer.
When I read, my words flow more easily. Suddenly I find that with less effort, they surprise me by conveying what I mean. Through reading, writing becomes my language, my mother tongue. And oh, I almost forgot, I also love it.

This week's book was "The God of Small Things"by Arundati Roy. It is her first book and as the reviews say, it is a masterpiece. It is un-selfconscious to absurdity, and at times, it seems that the author might have written it for herself alone, indulging all matter of random associations, invented words and newly made metaphors whose meaning she only grudgingly half-reveals to the reader, if and when it suits the story. Sometimes not at all. As if it didn't matter. As if the audience was the last thing on her mind.
It works, though, and in the end, the reader does not feel alienated, but rather, paradoxically included, as if invited to share in a foreign world strictly as a spectator . Just this once. You get the feeling that this is not for you, nor is it about you, but OK, you might sit quietly and listen, if you don't make too much noise, and don't ask too many questions. And what a story it is.

Tomorrow, I'm starting a classic: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I'm normally not one for science fiction, but I have been known to make exceptions for some truly deserving books, and I hear this is one of them. Watch this space.