I can consider this as a fine read.
To be honest, it is the book's title that drew my attention along with the author starting with the subject of the huge and increasing supply of novels ( books in general ) in the recent years compared to the past which readers had better time for reading. But I have to state that the title might deceive some readers looking for a step by step guide or manual of the actual reading process of the novel where this book is NOT such a guide.
But this book is still a guide and a very useful guide to the world of novels and fiction where the author guides the reader to what must be considered in reading fiction in various aspects from history, approach, actual book structure and elements, historical fiction, fiction and red areas, novels and movies, dealing with reviews and prizes and bestsellers lists ... and many more. ..
This book is inspiring full of insight where the author shares his great reading experience in all sorts of subjects he explores. ..
I have noted some useful information and quotes which I intend to hopefully share in the near future.
Please find below a sample of what I noted down from the author while reading the book :
Whatever else, book glut is surely better than book famine. The problem is how to handle that glut – either by ruthless thinning out, or by new ways of organizing the mass.
12
Two more humble assumptions are constant: 1) novels are things to be enjoyed; 2) the better we read them, the more enjoyment we will derive from them. A clever engagement with a novel is, in my opinion, one of the more noble functions of human intelligence. Reading novels is not a spectator sport but a participatory activity.
12
Woolf – one of whose more remunerative sidelines was telling people, very firmly, how they should read books – offers no advice other than ignore all advice including her own. Follow your gut ‘instinct’. Go alone into the world of fiction
14
‘Coming to your own conclusions’, with every resource of mind, intellect and sensibility, is less an act of judgement than one of self-definition. And difficult. In reading a good novel well we can discover something about ourselves – more specifically, how different we, as individuals, are from each of the other five-and-a-half billion individuals on the planet. A novel is, or can be, a kind of Rorschach Test – a reflection of us, in all our private complexities, in one of the better mirrors that contemporary life can hold up to us.
15
As George Eliot argued, modern society has no better generator of intelligent sympathy than the novel, and no more efficient dissipater of prejudice.
17
Axiomatically, a good reader (or ‘user’) of good fiction will read (use) the same novel in a uniquely different way from every other good reader – and, potentially, just as well.
21
Our reading preferences are when carefully examined, as uniquely different, and as revealing, as our fingerprints.
35
The solitariness of the reading act is its defining feature. And nowhere more than with fiction (the book which, as Paul Auster says, the reader ‘writes’) are we more truly ourselves.
36
Say ‘novel’ in 1750 and you were, probably, referring to one, or at most a small handful of things. Say ‘novel’ in 2006, and you could be referring to scores of things.
49
In many cases, the title does not make sense until you have read the novel. And even then you may not be 100 percent sure what the thing means.
91
Titles, it seems, often set out to inaugurate a game between author and reader – a game which, if the novel works, will add immensely to the reader’s pleasure. If the novel does not work, it will simply be something else to cheese the reader off.
92
Clearly it is possible to enjoy the novel even though second time round you know what is coming next. Novels, that is, may be designed to be read more than once. It is an assumption most readers are prepared to go along with. Although we may not do it consciously, most readers exercise a kind of triage: novels which, actually or metaphorically, we chuck; and novels which we keep on the shelf to enjoy again, even though we know who killed Colonel Mustard in the Library.
95
The conclusion? Don’t trust the title. But think about it.
103
Even the longest novel has to begin with a single line, and that line sets the narrative on the path to its destination. First lines, then, should never be taken at face value. But if you are applying the sniff test in the shop, the first line is always worth a quick dab at the nostrils. Best not do it with last lines as the-butler-did-it style revelations are likely to spoil your first reading.
117
The fact is novels all connect at some level and in some way – however subterranean that connection.
129
You do not have to understand all the internal wiring of a novel to enjoy the illumination it gives. But being aware of it does give the reader a pleasing sense of ascendancy, and of almost egalitarian connection with the author. In conclusion, for the ‘user’ the message is simple. The more fiction you read, and the more intelligently you do so, the richer your experience will be. Those readers who read most get most out of it.
130
In no area of fiction is the rule ‘by their novels shall ye know them’, truer than it is in genre. The only advice I can usefully give is: experiment from time to time. Who knows, old man, there may be something in the teen fiction racks; after all, Philip Pullman is there.
142
Ideally, the novel should be a whole body experience. Reading can use legs (to fetch the book down from the bookshelf, for example), arms (reaching up for it), hands (holding it), fingers and thumbs (flicking the pages), mouth (licking the finger). It can be done at the table, on the sofa, in the train, on the plane. Interestingly, among the young it seems to becoming an even more physical activity.
148
Arguably the job of the novel, done well, is to ‘transport’ us, carry us away. Those tiny black marks on an only slightly larger white surface are a portal – a kind of stargate into another world. On the other hand, from the first to the last word in a novel, it is only a typographic link which keeps us online. Once the type stops, the novel stops.
151
The advice is: always go for the hardback if you really want to read a novel. Apart from anything else, the deterrently high price will make you think carefully about whether you really want to read the thing. Which is good. And, observably, one reads a hardback more respectfully. Reserve the paperback for titles which, for one reason or another, you have missed.
159
Fiction is all about compromise: finding the precarious balance between self-expression and serving the reader.
163
Ballard meant to unsettle us. He explained what he was doing in Crash in a 1995 preface to the novel: I feel that the balance between fiction and reality has changed significantly in the past decades. Increasingly their roles are reversed. We live in a world ruled by fictions of every kind – mass merchandizing, advertising, the pre-empting of any original response to experience by the television screen. We live inside an enormous novel.
176
FICTION HAS ITS fictional licence. When it wants to, the novel can play fast and loose with fact without doing itself mortal damage. The transgressions can, on occasion, however, confuse, delude or tantalize the reader.
181
However insignificant in the larger fictional scheme of things, such slips can be unsettling. But sometimes novelists want to unsettle us – to ‘alienate’ readers, as the Brechtian critics put it – so that we are jolted into realising that what we are reading is fiction. And, even if they do not deliberately intend to do such things, a slip such as Smith’s has the same effect: keeping the reader on their toes.
182
Fiction can claim that it is particularly good at depicting the ‘fuzziness’ of history, its refusal to fall into satisfactory shapes and clear-line patterns. It is both contradictory and complementary. Its ‘licence’ allows it to stretch history, find break points, look at events from different angles and, more often than not, take unwarranted liberties in doing so. But, even at its most wrong, it is usually more readable than historical chronicle. And, of course, because it is ‘fiction’, sensible readers (not, alas, always a majority) do not take a novel as the last word on anything. Arguably, fiction – with its unique ability to ‘extend sympathy’, in George Eliot’s phrase – can deliver a different but equally valuable kind of knowledge.
187
Whether or not novels are historically accurate (historians invariably reject or qualify their depictions), there is no questioning their power to form received historical and social thinking.
191
It raises the question – if you really want to get into and on top of a novel – do you have to be intimately knowledgeable about the world in which it is set? Within reason, yes. It helps. The principle can, of course, be carried too far.
206
The more familiar or ‘inward’ you are with a novel’s world, the subtler your understanding of the novel. To put it another way, the less Martian you are about it, the less likely you are to make slips such as John Banville’s.
208
None the less, without being Leavisite about it, film rarely does full justice to good fiction. Movies have an apparently incorrigible tendency to sentimentalize, simplify and sog up the source
232
Film adaptations can stimulate, they can enlighten, but they can also rigidly format one’s sense of the printed original.
237
Novels can do many things. They can instruct, enlighten, confuse, mislead, soothe, excite, indoctrinate, misinform, educate and waste time. Each novel has its own rewards, or frustrations. And, at their highest pitch of achievement, novels can indeed be the one bright book of life. The trick is finding which, among the millions now accessible, fits that bill. For you, that is. And that, as Virginia Woolf told us, is something no one can tell you. Or, if they do, ignore them.
243
Novels, as has been said repeatedly in the previous pages, can provoke as different responses as people themselves are different. What is interesting is why, in any particular case, the response is provoked.
245