Inkabout L. Darby Gibbs

Science Fiction & Fantasy author

Reading

Along the lines of finding authors and books

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Four of the masters

One thing
that I have noticed as a reader in this new digital reading age is that
the opportunity to meet writers behind the books that I like has
changed.  And I think it is a good change.  I read some of Rachel Aaron’s blog
posts weeks before I decided to read her sample (a time difference great
enough to have read the earlier posts before she updated her website,
which, by the way, is quite nicely designed, and then her sample after
the update.)  I like that I learned a bit about her and a bit from her
before I took a look at a book she had written.  Her writing as a
blogger convinced me she could write well and hold my attention, so I
expected her books would do the same.  That is not how I used to select my reading choices, say Azimov or Bradbury.  And I found her as a writer finds another writer, not as a reader finds an author.

In the age of
Azimov and Bradbury, who I found by reading books alphabetically down the
shelf marked science fiction at my public library when I was twelve, I would have just jumped
in (and did) and started reading because I believed that anything that
got into print was clearly worth reading or else they would not have
published it.  I think for the most part that was a reliable belief
in the 60’s and 70’s.  It was not until about 20 years later that I finally
ran across a book which made me wonder who in heck thought this was a
good idea. Even so, I felt it was a fluke not a condition.

Times
do change.  So I select a little differently now.  I read comments on
Goodreads, read blogs by writers, check out what SFWA is serving up for
interest and generally keep my ears and eyes open for a good read.
Sometimes I wish I could just walk along that sound-muffled aisle,
bookshelves twice as tall as I and the bookcases running along far
enough to show perspective lines.  Even so, it’s what is inside the books
that I find most interesting though that memory of how I used to find
them stays a pleasant one.

Writer and novel caught my attention with a door

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This is a door, a very old, Swedish church door.

Very recently (and I mean just days ago), I read a sample from a book (The Spirit Thief) by Rachel Aaron on her website.  I really enjoyed what I read and took no time adding the book to my “to read” bookshelf on Goodreads.  Her writing really caught my attention as she quickly created character and interest in just a few pages.  Now I am reshuffling what I want to read next once I finish Pandora’s Star and Shades of Grey.  (And for some reason I felt the need to add The Owl Keeper to my lineup of reading now novels, so who knows when I will select another book.)  But The Spirit Thief keeps working its way up the list every time I think back on what I read from the sample.  I love her opening event:  Eli Monpress talks a door into releasing him from prison!

And I am impressed with her as a person, too.  I have read a few of her blogs.  She is personable, knowledgeable without being an “I’ve got the answers” kind of writer, and humorous.  She takes her writing seriously and writes in a fun manner.  Nice combination.  So I found a new writer to learn from and a new series to read.

When I can’t sleep, I read. When I read, I can sleep.

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I love to read.  I can do it anywhere.  Long ago,when my parents would get into an argument, I would pick up a book and start reading. The sound of them would just disappear.  I would dive into the story, think about the characters and what was happening to them, or read a really great line over and over, twisting it about with thought-filled hands to examine it from all angles.  Hours would pass, and I would close the book to find I was so hungry I was nauseous. I had left the place behind while I read, a transcendentalist, my body snugged into a chair that looked out over my neighbor’s driveway, my mind in some other space.

Reading was essential. In many ways, it is still the same kind of essential it was when I was a child and later a teenager.  If I cannot sleep, which happens fairly often, all I need do is pick up a book.  Maybe I can’t sleep because I am thinking too much, lesson planning or planning a field trip or going over a conversation that just won’t quit my mind. Whatever it is that is keeping me awake disappears when I read.  It is as if my mind narrows to just this one thing, the story I am reading.  It fills the space between my ears.  Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, I can turn off my Sony reader, roll over and shortly I am asleep. When I read, I throw everything out and leave room only for the story.  I don’t actively examine the details; I take them in, spread  them out for reflection.  It is a leisurely flow of reading and understanding, putting things together without effort.  When I put the book down, that meditative flow stays and rolls me right into sleep.

If I didn’t read, I would remain awake for hours.