Dec 09 2008
Being a Good Reader
I’ve talked about reading on another blog–on several others, actually, but it isn’t just important to read books for pleasure, study, etc. As a writer, I have found it extremely helpful to read the developing work of other writers. I’m in a playwrights’ group right now, north of Seattle, and we meet a couple of times a month to read through and discuss someone’s work. I’ve only been to two sessions so far–too much has gotten in the way–but I have enjoyed both sessions.
Yet I also read student essays constantly. And I know that, though my students often do not consider themselves “writers,” they still must learn to communicate effectively in the college setting, and part of my job as teacher is to read their work and give proper feedback. Now, I’ve known teachers (I’ve had them) who grade, not on structure, effectiveness of message, clarity, errors, etc., but on what they would have written if they had written the essay themselves. I know other writers who do the same thing, who cannot separate the work of someone else from what they most want to see in writing. And if it doesn’t fit that preconceived notion of what is “good,” they respond negatively.
Think about it this way. I’ll use poetry as an example. Say I write a free verse poem–no rhyme, but carefully designed word choice, vivid images, etc.
Some readers–those who are not poets, and who don’t tend to like poetry–may respond with, “I just don’t get poetry. It just sounds weird.”
Other readers, those who ascribe to the poetry-isn’t-poetry-unless-it-rhymes category, would respond with: “How is this poetry? It doesn’t even rhyme.” Yet neither type of writer is offering anything helpful at all. Think of this as the antithesis of the “Emperor’s New Clothes,” story: just because you don’t see it as a writer doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
The poor poet could also face other types of critics. Say, for instance, the poem is about his parents’ divorce. Perhaps one reader is in the midst of divorce with her husband…and she resents his portrayal of the marriage’s failure as being both parents’ fault. Her personal life, in this case, makes it impossible for her to judge the artistic portrayal of someone else’s experience, so she may end up giving a comment like: “You just don’t understand women.” or “How do you know your mom did anything at all?” or “I think you are too harsh to the woman–she’s not nearly as much at fault as her husband is.”
I think it is important to use your experience to help you respond to others…yet there is a fine line. When I grade essays, I simply can’t let my own biases decide the worth of an essay. I have to peer deep inside the essay, figuring out what it is trying to do. And then my task is not to decide whether what it is trying to do is worth doing, but how I, as a reader and teacher, can help the essay more effectively do it.
Another way to put it: I am not a fan of disgusting humor. Or guy humor. I detest–and I mean detest–movies like Talledega Nights (or anything Will Ferrell is in) and Borat. I don’t laugh at the jokes. Yet in workshops, when I am dealing with a playwright who is writing stuff like this, no one would know I don’t like it. I can still see where the humor is, even if it is NOT my kind of humor. I can appreciate it for what it is trying to do, and give feedback to help it do that even better. I don’t want the other writer to write like me. I want the other writer to write as effectively as he can in his own voice.
That is the best kind of reader. I’m not here to evaluate the worth of a piece of writing…but to facilitate its accomplishing its goals, whatever those goals may be. And that’s hard, and it takes a lot of work. But it’s what other writers need from me, and what I need from them.






Very well said!
Now, do you want to mark some more essays? I happen to have a whole bunch right here
I would, Flit, but I just got my batch of finals…one more pile of papers to grade…
And I think, Stephanie, that people presume they have too much expertise… they assume they have to decide a piece’s worth, and if it doesn’t jive with what they like, it can’t possibly be worth much.
Yet all it means is that the writing doesn’t work for them. I can dislike a book, yet recommend it to someone else, knowing that it fits their style more than it does mine. I can still appreciate what it DOES, rather than what it IS.
Not that this is entirely clear.
It’s not that I don’t understand it, shakespeare. I do. I can do that, sometimes. But somethings are so foreign to me, so outside what I know and love, that I can’t objectively evaluate it well enough to recommend it to someone else, even if they like similar things.
I can’t recommend a mystery novel I don’t like to a mystery reader. I have only two authors I can stand and I like them for characters. I end up disliking other books so intensely that I cannot bring myself to “enjoy” the other elements so I cannot judge them objectively enough to recommend them. However, if I knew someone who liked mysteries AND characters, I could heartily recommend my favorites, even though they are generally considered to do “so-so” on the mystery section. What I mean is, I don’t know what makes a mystery novel great, only what makes the ones I like readable. That makes me a poor choice in recommending one to a friend.
On the other hand, there are any number of written works I didn’t either particularly enjoy myself or didn’t find on my list of books I’ll read again that I’d have no trouble recommending to people who appreciate those aspects I recognized, but didn’t personally respond to.
Because I read what I like, I don’t have the experience or education to recognize admirable aspects of books I truly detest. Therefore, I’m at a loss to “be a good reader” in those circumstances, despite my best intentions.
Wait, is that more cryptic that your answer?