I Don't Play "Favorites"

I had an interview the other day, and was twice asked (by separate people) “Who are your favorite authors.”

Now, how the hell am I supposed to know that?

The trouble with such a question is, like most dedicated readers (you know, the ones that skew the numbers of the NEA’s report on literacy in America), I read a lot. More than just “a lot,” though, I am fairly diverse in my reading choices, especially at this time in my life. If you had asked me, say, ten years ago, the answer would have had no trouble finding its way from my mouth: David Eddings, Orson Scott Card, Stephen King, Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman (Dragonlance, baby!), and probably Dean Koontz (for Lightning and Oddkins alone, I’d put him up there). A few years later, I probably would have added J.K. Rowling.

Today, though, despite the fact that I still enjoy those authors, I find it hard to think of any of them as one of “my favorites.” For starters, I feel like many of these writers (except for Rowling, so far) have fallen off their game at one point or another. Eddings, whose Belgariad series was the first adult novels I ever read, is a great story-teller. His books, for me, are like macaroni and cheese – warm, comforting, and, well, cheesy. I love them and I love the characters, but his style never shifts from series to series: there are always strong, sassy women characters whose job it is to keep their men from getting too big for their britches. Here’s a line that seems to make it into every book he writes:

(After a group of women, in sync with their feminine desire to take men down a peg without needing to discuss it, verbally eviscerate our hero):
“Want to play again?” she asked archly.

I have nothing against strong women characters – they definitely add an element to the genre that hadn’t really been seen until then. The fact that it’s a male author writing it is impressive, too. But when the same dialogue creeps up from series to series, and the characters start to exert eerie similarities (tell me Polgara, in the Belgariad and Mallorean series, and Sephrenia, in the Sparhawk series (Elenium and Tamuli series, for all you/us nerds), aren’t almost exactly the same person. Go ahead, tell me it), you start to realize that maybe the writing isn’t as strong as you once thought.

And yet I still read these books, usually once a year. The stories are simply that good and my connection with the characters is, at this point, very personal.

Based on that, what I realized was that with all the authors I would have mentioned ten years ago, what made them my favorites were individual interactions with their works, and not necessarily their corpus (corpuses? corpi?) as a whole. I might like multiple novels of theirs, but I might also actively dislike some of their other works. For every Misery King writes, there’s an Insomnia. For every Ender’s Game there’s an Empire.

Basically, then, I’m left with a list of books I like, but have trouble bestowing “favorite” upon the authors. Even thinking about it now, I’m still not completely sure if it’s correct to make a list of authors I love. For while I might throw names like Jonathan Lethem, Zaidi Smith, or Douglas Coupland out, I’ve only read one of Lethem’s books (and an article I really enjoyed), only loved Smith’s first book (while not actively disliking her other two novels, I wouldn’t say I was enthralled), and have only read 1.66 Coupland novels (not really sure what the actual number should be, but I’ve read all of one, which I loved, part of another, which I couldn’t get into, and I’m currently reading one now, The Gum Thief, which I will review entirely when I’m finished). So are these really favorites?

Consider this: I do have favorite actors. Generally, no matter what the movie is, I enjoy the way the actor performs, even if I don’t like the film. For some reason, Ryan Reynolds is in that category for me – that man can do no wrong. More obviously (or seriously, depending on your interpretation), Denzel Washington, Will Smith, and Gene Hackman are all actors I find always work for me on the screen (oddly, I couldn’t think of a woman actor that fits this bill; while there are many truly fantastic female actors, I just can’t think of one that makes me go: I need to see her movie).

But that’s one of the more blatant differences between acting and writing – acting is in your face, and there’s a face attached to it. Writing, though, is simply a name – if you’re lucky! – and usually it’s a before- or afterthought of the audience. Once you’re immersed in a book, you aren’t constantly thinking Stephen King wrote this! Stephen King wrote this! Whereas, when you’re watching a movie, you are always aware, in some way, That’s Denzel! That’s Denzel! (God knows I am; that man is beautiful . . .). With books, we connect with the writing itself, while with movies, you connect with the story and/or the people.

This isn’t, then, simply a matter of loving everything someone produces. I’m sure the most ardent James Patterson or Janet Evanovich fan has at one point said “I don’t like Book X.” You can’t please all the people, etc, etc. But I think it goes beyond the matter of like/dislike, and ventures into a social reality on the state of reading.

First, there are way too many books. I may have mentioned it before, but it bears repeating (quick note: I totally brain farted over “bears repeating,” having no idea which “bare/bear” to use. I’m still not sure it’s correct . . .): Whenever someone asked if I’d read something, and I had to answer no (or worse, answer that I’d never even heard of said book/author), I always felt like it’s a shortcoming of mine for having not encountered this cultural artifact. That is, until I realized that for every book of yours I haven’t read, I can raise you one of mine. The fact is, there are thousands of books published each year, so reading all of the “good ones,” in addition to all the classics I’ve yet to read, is not really a doable task. And yet it’s one I attempt anyway, meaning I don’t have a great deal of time to spend on any single author – I’m playing catch-up here, folks!

Second, books are not objects that create “brand loyalty.” Never mind the publishing house; the author as a brand is virtually non-existent. Part of the problem is timeliness – even the most prolific authors, such as Danielle Steel or Stephen King, only produce at most, 3 books a year (and hey, you bust out 3 books a year and I’m going to question if you have a soul or not). We measure our time in YouTube clips, so imagine waiting a year for someone’s next book. While that’s not to say people don’t eagerly anticipate a new release, I think that generally happens with series (Harry Potter, anyone?) and genre-fiction (Harry Potter, anyone?). Readers either don’t have time for loyalty for an author or aren’t so enmeshed in author’s fabric that they aren’t distracted by other things.

Who are my favorite authors? I don’t think I can answer that. Unfortunately, as my rambling is testament of, I don’t know if I can explain why I can’t answer that. I guess, put simply, there are stories I’ll read that make me go: “I wish I had written that.” These books make me glad I spent time to read, and I usually want more of that book. While I may not like other offerings from the same author, I think it is the hope for that anxious contentment that makes me love reading so much. So if a writer can make me feel that, then I’d say you’re one of my favorites.

But I still think the question is flawed.

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By the way, I once again apologize for the gap between posts. Between school, work, and pretending to be a social person, sitting down to write in a blog seems low on the priority-list.

It has made me respect bloggers, though. While the vast majority of blogs are probably crap (we’re talking millions, people), some are very, very good. And these are updated on a daily or weekly basis. While perhaps not typing up 1000-word opi (plural of opus) like moi, they are still, at least, gathering information and providing commentary. Try sitting down once a week and doing that, and I’m sure you’ll see what I mean by respect.

I’ll try to write more soon – plenty to review, just got to sit down and do it.

Peace.