Readings for February 12, 2023
I read a lot in the last two weeks, I guess
The HarperCollins workers have reached a tentative agreement with the publisher, but it’s worth reading the report from the front lines of their strike in Literary Hub, with its lovely illustrations of the workers and their work.
Michael Schur’s book How to Be Perfect is — hear me out — a fun introduction to moral philosophy. If you’re at all interested in utilitarian or existential answers to moral and ethical conundrums, Schur explains things in a clear, light voice with backup from an actual philosopher. Speaking of voices, if you listen to the audiobook (my recommendation), the cast of his show The Good Place does some of the reading. The book is basically a collection of his research for The Good Place. The Good Place is also itself a a collection of his research. The Good Place The Good Place The Good Place. I think I just talked myself into rewatching the series.
Maya Binyam writes a short essay about a lifelong struggle: finding a decent couch. I found the ideal couch by having it made at a local shop, so it’s exactly the right length to fit between our built-in shelves, and the blue fabric was chosen for being able to repel, or at least hide, pet hair. And then we put a huge brown pet-proof blanket over the bottom cushion to protect it, so we can only see about half of that pretty blue fabric at any time, and the blanket gets all rucked up and lumpy and uncomfortable. You really can’t win.
Update from this very morning: I have removed the blanket to reveal the couch, pet hair be damned.
A little while ago, I mentioned how much I loved The Swimmers by Julie Otsuka, and it looks like I’m not alone (obviously; the book got a lot of very good reviews). Otsuka recently won the 2023 Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction.
Novelist and screenwriter Hanif Kureishi suffered a bizarre fall in Italy on the day after Christmas, just over a month ago, leaving him without the use of his limbs. He has been in an Italian hospital since. He had just started his own Substack newsletter last fall, and it has become a source of beautiful, funny, human communication as he dictates the newsletter from his bed.
To be honest, there is no reason for a writer to look good. When we are working, no one needs to look at us, tapping away in our pyjamas in our little rooms. And when we are not working, it is better that we fade into the background, since we are observers and not movie stars.
A friend said she wanted to read more nonfiction this year, and she limited me to five recommendations (a wise move). My first suggestion was H Is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald, one of my all-time favorites. I knew I would not be wasting one of my limited recommendation slots with it. Thinking about it made me want to read it again, but I thought it might weird my friend out to do an uninvited read-along. So I read yet another Annie Ernaux book. After my friend finished Macdonald’s book, though, she said I should reread it, that I'd forgotten the hawk's name was Mabel (like my dog), and that I should listen to the audio book. She was right on all counts. She also said that Macdonald’s writing reminded her of mine, in that it occurs where life and literature meet—in this book’s case, training a hawk and reading T. H. White, a devoted and terrible falconer as well as author of The Once and Future King. And now in this post's case, reading and recommending books among friends. It was the best compliment anyone could give my work.
Literary Hub ran an essay on how mean and stingy copy editors are — written by a former copy editor — and editors were appalled by the author’s take. The general reaction was that copy editors are aiming for clarity and consistency, not the squashing of an author’s voice or style. We’re fine with swearing, with conjunctions at the start of sentences, with colloquial speech, with innovative punctuation. I’m currently copyediting a philosophical novel that doesn’t use quotation marks, and my job is to make sure the difference between direct and indirect discourse is clear to the reader regardless, not to impose thousands of unwanted squiggles on the author’s pages.
If you are a copy editor who was feeling understandably indignant after reading that post, or if you are a writer who appreciates your copy editor, or if you are a reader who is happy to not keep tripping over weird things in published books, here is Mary Beard thanking her copy editors.
The point about a copy editor is that you don’t have to do what they say (the line is more “you have been warned” – though it is a good idea to take their advice seriously). It is also a process of dialogue and discussion with someone you get to know. (“I think I would rather keep my version here. How strongly do you feel?”)
I have read one (1) of the books on this proposed reading syllabus published in the Paris Review, and that was Zora Neale Hurston in college. Like, undergrad in the nineties, not my current master’s program. So it’s been a while. I’m thinking about actually using this syllabus for summer reading, though I was also thinking about reading James Baldwin in order once I’ve made it through this rock block of Annie Ernaux books. If any of you want to make a little book club, let me know in the comments, reply to this email, or if you’re on your phone, use the chat function.
Everybody has bookish peeves, and they can range from big-picture (I don’t like starting a book in situ only to spring back to a year before to explain what’s going on) to the miniscule (I once stopped reading a book because I didn’t like the word inkily to describe the way a river flowed). The Washington Post asked readers for peeves, and they were eager to share.
Most are too specific to a person to be general advice, but there are a few that I often advise authors to avoid, or at least to make a strong case for including them:
- dream sequences
- historical anachronisms and factual errors
- excessive length
- long passages set in italics
- timelines out of order
- women who need rescuing
- disabled characters who are only there to inspire others
There’s plenty more in the Post, and it’s a fun read. If you have peeves and want to share, you can do so in the comments or use Substack’s chat feature on the phone app.
“Mabel. From amabilis, meaning loveable, or dear. An old, slightly silly name, an unfashionable name. There is something of the grandmother about it: antimacassars and afternoon teas.”—H Is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald
