I occasionally check in with the blogroll over at
SFNovelists.com. Great content, plenty of mental chow to nourish both writers and readers. A post was put up last month that captured me powerfully, and I want to share it with you:
“The Plot Escapes Me”
In this, author
Alma Alexander discusses how sometimes we read a book, and afterwards cannot recall the specific plot elements, characters, etc. She quotes author James Collins from a NY Times article:
“I don’t remember the books I read," Mr Collins says.”All I associate [with books I have loved] is an atmosphere and a stray image or two, like memories of trips I took as a child.”
The question then comes into play: If we don't remember the specifics, is all the time we spend reading wasted? Collins "recoils" from this assertion. He got in touch with Professor Maryanne Wolf to discuss the idea, and this is her response:
“It’s there,” Professor Wolf says to James Collins when he cogitates on whether time spent reading all those books had not been a waste after all. “You are the sum of it all...“I totally believe that you are a different person for having read that book. I say that as a neuroscientist and an old literature major.”
This hit me harder than normal, because it spoke clearly to my own reading style and habits. I have an extensive and growing library of books, many of which I haven't read in over a decade, if not longer. However, when I glance at a book spine, I can feel that story--the gestalt of it--is indeed part of me. I can point to it somewhere in the dark side of my mind, a little mote of light that flickers in recognition...a speck that's incorporated into a larger starfield pattern, all embedded in my memories and my personality, even in the tiniest way.
That's marvelous to me. Knowing that each book I read is adding substance to my life. That stories leave an impact, even across wide gaps of time.
As a reader, it makes me excited to see what story I will come across next. As a writer, it makes me pause and wonder. How will future readers have been changed after they set aside one of my books? For better or worse? And decades later, should they see a story of mine they read on a shelf, what spark will gleam in their mind?
