Books

My name‿ is‿ Alice. I read‿ about thirty^thir-dy books‿ a year,│ most‿ of them fiction,│ and‿ I have stopped defending the choice,│ because the case for‿ it‿ is stronger than the case made‿ against‿ it.

What‿ I look for‿ is voice rather than plot. A novel can survive‿ a thin story│ if the narration‿ is convincing,│ an(d) no accumulation‿ of‿ inciden(t) will rescue prose that does not work. Las(t) year‿ I abandoned four novels within fifty^fif-dy pages,│ which would horrify my mother,│ who considers‿ it‿ a moral failure not to finish what she has started. I have‿ also learned to distrus(t) the word‿ unputdownable,│ which‿ in my experience signals the opposite,│ an(d) to be sceptical‿ of‿ a critic│ whose‿ enthusiasm‿ is‿ expressed‿ entirely in‿ adjectives.

I read‿ in translation‿ as much‿ as‿ in‿ English,│ and‿ I have come to think the translator‿ is the most‿ underrated figure‿ in the whole‿ enterprise. Derivative work within‿ a genre‿ is usually published│ an(d) usually forgotten,│ while the canon‿ is largely composed‿ of books that were‿ unfashionable│ when they appeared. My husban(d) reads‿ only non-fiction‿ an(d) maintains that‿ a novel‿ is‿ a well-tol(d) lie. If that‿ is true,│ then‿ a lie that teaches you to feel what‿ another person feels‿ is worth‿ acquiring,│ and‿ it‿ is considerably cheaper than the alternative.