“Science says the first word on everything, and the last word on nothing." - Victor Hugo
I enjoy reading nonfiction. My current book is Maryanne Wolf’s Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain (2007). I like writing nonfiction, too. Blogposts are a form of nonfiction. Longer than tweets, briefer than all but the very thinnest short stories.
Nonfiction answers questions you didn't even know you had. What is the relationship of various brain sections to the facility of reading, how have our brains evolved to encompass different types of symbols, do Chinese readers’ brains differ from those of English readers? When children have trouble learning to read, what parts of the brain are responsible? How can teachers work around faulty brain synapses?
Nonfiction writers answer those. Especially Wolf.
But fiction ... ah, fiction. It poses the “what if?” questions.
What if, in a far-off land, a struggle for power encompassed multiple noble houses while the countryside itself was under threat from an unseen and barely believable source? The Game of Thrones series.
What if a quiet boy who had tried to commit suicide met wacky thrill-seeker classmates who made him feel valued? The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
What if . . . and then what if . . . and if later . . ..
Meanwhile, the reader goes back and forth between the scenes on the page – hey, old-school, paper only – and the scenes in her head, not only of what is described but also of what she has seen and experienced in her own life. Compare and contrast. Better, worse, entirely new, old as the hills.
And what would she say in that character’s place?
Reading fiction raises a slew of questions – the writer’s, the reader’s – in a never-ending series of what-ifs, even after the last word.
Even better, and unsurprisingly, with all that what-if going on, reading stories improves brain function.
Take that, nonfiction-only fans.
I enjoy reading nonfiction. My current book is Maryanne Wolf’s Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain (2007). I like writing nonfiction, too. Blogposts are a form of nonfiction. Longer than tweets, briefer than all but the very thinnest short stories.
Nonfiction answers questions you didn't even know you had. What is the relationship of various brain sections to the facility of reading, how have our brains evolved to encompass different types of symbols, do Chinese readers’ brains differ from those of English readers? When children have trouble learning to read, what parts of the brain are responsible? How can teachers work around faulty brain synapses?
Nonfiction writers answer those. Especially Wolf.
But fiction ... ah, fiction. It poses the “what if?” questions.
What if, in a far-off land, a struggle for power encompassed multiple noble houses while the countryside itself was under threat from an unseen and barely believable source? The Game of Thrones series.
What if a quiet boy who had tried to commit suicide met wacky thrill-seeker classmates who made him feel valued? The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
What if . . . and then what if . . . and if later . . ..
Meanwhile, the reader goes back and forth between the scenes on the page – hey, old-school, paper only – and the scenes in her head, not only of what is described but also of what she has seen and experienced in her own life. Compare and contrast. Better, worse, entirely new, old as the hills.
And what would she say in that character’s place?
Reading fiction raises a slew of questions – the writer’s, the reader’s – in a never-ending series of what-ifs, even after the last word.
Even better, and unsurprisingly, with all that what-if going on, reading stories improves brain function.
Take that, nonfiction-only fans.
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