What are you reading?

Becoming a writer is like taking care of your body and mind. It’s a one-day-at-a-time thing.

You can’t become a beacon of sobriety tomorrow if right now, you’re a bar-fly drunk. And it’s dangerous to try a one-legged-dancer pose in yoga without attending some level one classes to get the hang of things, first. I tell you this as a writing coach who happens, also, to be a recovering alcoholic, and a yoga teacher. 

I speak from experience!

Most writing coaches will drill you in the importance of writing something every day. A hundred words. A thousand words. Just to develop the writer’s muscles. But I start by asking anyone I’m working with: What are you reading? Or, since many of us don’t actually read too much, intentionally, these days, I might ask, what do you like to read? What’s on your bookshelf? 

In the last six months, glancing at my bookshelf, I’ve read a lengthy and fascinating book by a British author, about colonialism. And then, because I was interested in the work, I read the writer’s biography, which sadly revealed him to be an utterly miserable, abusive drunk. I’ve read a book by a Cuban author about the Spanish agent Stalin sent to Mexico City to kill his rival, Trotsky, and a fictional memoir by a Russian academic about his year in Moscow with his grandmother. I might dip into a book about wildlife gardening by a friend, and a book of comic verse that my dad used to read to me as a child, just to lighten the mood. I also read Elton John’s biography. And there was a book by the author of My Beautiful Launderette, about a man whose wife is having an affair, which I couldn’t finish. It was just too miserable.

I often tell myself to read more books by women, and lighter work that’s a little jollier. But my taste, in general, is summarized by “lonely men in exotic climes.” In other words, I read what appeals to me, and I don’t judge myself too harshly. I love anything by Ian Fleming, for example, even though a lot of it, from a writer’s perspective, is garbage.

The point is that by aiming to read 50 pages each day, usually, first thing in the morning, I feel my writer’s brain sparking. It goes off in directions as I return to the words on the page. It considers other possibilities. It acquires a sense of rigor.

It’s where good writing starts. 

I’ve kept a spreadsheet of the books I’ve read since 2017, and so, I can tell you what my favorite 26 books have been, over the period:

 

Travels with My Aunt

Graham Greene

Berta Isla

Javier Marias

The Raj Quartet

Paul Scott

The Man Who Loved Dogs

Leonardo Padura

Out of Sheer Rage

Geoff Dyer

Ways of Escape

Graham Greene

Sweet Tooth

Ian McEwan

Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper

Fuchsia Dunlop

Great Granny Webster

Caroline Blackwood

Brighton Rock

Graham Greene

The Quiet American

Graham Greene

The Little Drumer Girl

John Le Carre

Our Man in Havana

Graham Greene

The Tailor of Panama

John Le Carre

Savage Feast

Boris Fishman

Agent Running In The Field

John Le Carre

Spring

Ali Smith

Autumn

Ali Smith

Small Fry

Lisa Brennan-Jobs

Paul Scott: The Life of the Author of the Raj Quartet

Hillary Spurling

The Housing Lark

Sam Sevlon

Difficult Women

David Plante

The Lonely City

Olivia Laing

A Visit to Don Otavio

Sybille Bedford

Jigsaw

Sybile Bedford

The Rainbow

DH Lawrence

 

Want to deepen your writing practice, but not sure where to start? Want to talk about James Bond novels? Or how appallingly Steve Jobs treated his daughter? I’m your friend. 

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