Tyler Feltmate's Blog

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

A bookstore should sell primarily books.

Now this isn’t a statement that prohibits them from selling other kinds of product, though it does assert that any entity claiming to be a purveyor of printed material should ensure that more than say, eighty percent of its total sales area be reserved for actual books.

This is not a rant against big-box bookstores; I have never discriminated against an outlet based upon the area of its geographic footprint. I am, however, here to finally give voice to a conspiracy that I feel the public has remained blind to for far too long.

Starbucks is an expansionist empire.

Yes, beneath that delightfully frothy top layer steams the heart of a superheated, caffeine-charged juggernaut ready to spread across the map like coffee on a term paper.

I have no moral qualm against Starbucks myself – though I do tend to prefer coffee that can be ordered in one breath and without cashing a cheque – but I have noted with alarm that, in some of the newer large-scale outlets I’ve been to recently, the quiet little coffee area is getting bigger, and when paired with the proportion of space usually devoted to non-book items, the actual books themselves are getting pressed into the back! (I suspect a covert alliance between Starbucks and the decorative-box industry.)

So take this as a call, readers of the world, to storm your local conglomerate and demand that the coffee tables back-off so that the bookshelves may retain their rightful place, i.e. the majority of the store’s sales floor!

Well alright, finish your latte first, but then get to it!

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

If you’ve ever felt that lately, the quest for a unique plot means the creation of a nonsensical one, or that edgy and bold equates merely to crass and tasteless, then perhaps it’s time you stopped looking to the New Releases shelf for your next read, and instead turned to the old mainstays.

One word: nostalgia

Sure, the plot of Ivanhoe is as good-guy/bad-guy as you can get, and anyone with an ounce of foresight can tell within the first few pages that Tom Sawyer won’t up and die in the final chapter, but the reason these old tales are predictable is because they’re the granddaddies which set the standards.

Unlike modern plots, we’re not expecting to be shocked or tricked by classic stories (even though this is well within the power of more than a few) and it’s this removed expectation of something never before encountered that lets a modern audience sit back, become absorbed and enjoy the ride as fully as any 19th century reader.

One could easily concoct any number of reasons for picking up Beowulf, Sun Tzu’s The Art of War or the collected works of Oscar Wilde. In the end though, what more justification is needed than the simple enjoyment of reading a really old book? It will almost surely guarantee satisfaction (they’ve been around for decades, centuries and millennia for a reason), and ultimately, why does that revolutionary twist or cutting-edge character you’re hunting for need to be one of our own century?

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

As any fan of the current bell-bottom fashion will tell you, rarely does a new fad arrive without being birthed by some previous cultural wave. It's often difficult, however, to spot exactly where some of society’s more unusual axioms came from, though a familiarity with the blockbusters and bestsellers of old can help to shed some light on the matter.

To know the now is to grasp the past

As an example, consider our modern mores and morals. Ever wondered why we get hung-up on the things we get hung-up on? In some Eastern cultures, you will find temples devoted to the penis, with giant carven phallic images decorating the grounds in honour of this fount of life. Meanwhile, in its animated films, Disney continues to portray bare-chested male characters without nipples.

It goes without question that Western culture’s moral core lies in Christianity, but is it possible to find a more precise source for such societal quirks as Disney’s denippled heroes?

Well, in addition to the Bible itself, one might also look at Dante’s Inferno; a poetic tour of hell and its environs which provides a neatly structured and extensively detailed outline of not only the Christian world’s fiery nether-reaches, but the exact severity and basic ‘wrongness’ that the belief assigns to each variety of sinful behaviour.

Though we tend to view whatever currently comprises ‘trendy’ in a here-and-now sense, it often helps to know the roots of the beliefs that shape how you dress, act, think and speak, and a basis for modern maxims can often be found among the library’s ‘classic hits’.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

Country singers compare Ronnie and Jenny to Romeo and Juliet, athletes breaking a slump are said to have overcome their white whale, and have you ever wondered why the I.T. guy keeps warning you about the dangers of Trojan Horses?

Commonplace, but not common knowledge

It’s a frequent thing to hear lines like ‘something is rotten in the state of Denmark’ dropped during contemporary discourse – the sort of reference that’s essentially so famous you no longer even need to know the piece it’s from in order to be familiar with it.

And aye, there’s the rub; in that such lyrical gems pop up constantly throughout modern English, yet so often do people use them outside their proper context (i.e. swapping out Shakespeare’s Denmark musing for reasons other than to imply that something seems fishy).

Constantly, we will rely on lines from various literary hallmarks when looking to illustrate a point with flare and style, and it’s a red-faced moment indeed when one drops an honored passage casually and completely out of context.

Reading the odd classic-fiction will not only prove entertaining, it’ll open your eyes to the origins and actual meanings of some of those odd little sayings you’ve often heard, but maybe never quite understood.

So on that note, before someone comments on ‘rotten Denmark’ and you’re left wondering why people are still talking about those racy cartoons, maybe think about taking a look at Grandpa’s old clothbound collection, and perhaps a few numbers by that spear-shaker guy . . .

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

To my knowledge, these are ideas that have seen little or no use thus far. (Though if anyone knows of a title that sounds like one of the following, by all means, share!) So on that note and without further ado, to any writers currently wracking their brains for a novel alt-history idea or a little-known past event worthy of a recount, perhaps take a stab at one of the following:

The moon landing missed!

Premise: In a speculative twist on this milestone event, the famed moon landing fails tragically when the crew of Apollo 11 overshoot their goal, and ultimately become the long-deceased yet officially confirmed thirty-second manned landing on Mars (having arrived at the red planet 221 years after the first-ever intended journey to Mars, launched in the summer of 2042). The book will be framed as an actual historic account, featuring faithfully fabricated documents regarding the mistakes leading to the overshoot, details of the valiant yet failed attempt to rescue the doomed crewmen and a DVD insert containing the last recorded transmission from the crew; specifically, Armstrong’s voice saying “So I’m thinking something along the lines of ‘one small step for man, one giant leap’ . . . wait, should that be ‘man’ or ‘people’? I don’t want to seem—hold on . . . holy crap! That was it! Back there, turn around! Break you basta—!” –end transmission–

Entitled: No Reverse on a Rocket or One Way to the Stars.

A very alternate history

Premise: Having suffered a crisis of conscience, the world’s consummate blonde vows to forsake her life of glit and glamour in order to pursue higher education, thus encouraging her millions of tweenage socialite followers to abandon the mall for the library, the fashion world for full-time studies and ultimately, to usher in a golden age of American technological, cultural and economic development marked by forward leaps and bounds.

Entitled: Paris Hilton and the Philosophy Degree.

The July 20th Plot

Premise: Sometimes it’s all we can to do wish that history had zigged when instead it zagged. In a very real-world turn of events, at roughly 12-noon on July 20th, 1944, a bomb hidden within a briefcase detonated during a meeting that included Hitler and several other high-ranking Nazi officials. The bomb was a desperate, do-or-die attempt by the German resistance movement to topple the Nazi party and possibly end the war peacefully, thus avoiding tens of thousands more casualties. Hitler survived the near-assassination only, it is believed, because the briefcase had been set too far from his chair during the meeting – a matter of a few feet.

This is the story.

Entitled: A Smidge Too Far or . . . GODDAMMIT!

The Mongols go to Japan

Premise: Like the July 20th Plot, another major historic event that seems to remain surprisingly uncovered by the history section is the combined Mongol invasions of Japan during 1274 and again in 1281. In each case, armies tens of thousands strong were dispatched by Kublai Khan, grandson of Genghis Khan, to conquer the defiant island nation. In the ultimate demonstration of Murphy’s Law, the 1274 invasion was destroyed utterly while still at sea by a monstrous typhoon, whereas the second dispatched horde met with much the same fate seven years later; succumbing to a colossal storm before ever having gained a foothold on Japanese soil.

Entitled: Rather Fight a Land War in Asia or The Mongol Hordes: Won if by Land, Screwed if by Sea.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

Most avid readers tend to have a preferred genre; a particular wing of the library or bookshop that they may venture beyond from time to time, but will always make a bee-line for when first stepping through the doors. As any mystery-nut, romance-addict or thriller-fan will attest, however, there can come a time when that favourite shelf starts to look dismayingly familiar, and one back cover seems to promise much the same as its neighbours.

On that note, for anyone out there interested in a new series that breaks free of convention, either by shining a new light on some mainstay element of the genre or by successfully melding two or more types of fiction into something truly unique, consider the following . . .

The Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon

The story of a World War II field nurse transported back through time into war-torn 18th century Scotland, Outlander is comprised by the books Outlander (a.k.a. Cross Stitch), Dragonfly in Amber, Voyager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross and A Breath of Snow and Ashes, with yet more promised volumes to come.

Tactfully combining themes of romance, historic-fiction and an obvious time-travel component, Gabaldon has been praised for her enlivened and period-authentic characters, the remarkable degree of research apparent throughout the series and her skill at infusing the Scots-brogue (often attempted, rarely perfected) into written dialogue. A collection of definite interest for fans of all things British history, love story and Braveheart.

Stephen King’s Dark Tower series

Call it dark or urban fantasy, surreal horror, classic King or any combination of nouns and adjectives thereof you like, there is no denying that this recently completed seven-book series (the trilogy really does appear endangered; all the modern classics seem to manifest in sevens . . .) is a deftly hybridized tale that will appeal to fans of many walks and myriad tastes.

With over twenty years between the release of first and final books The Gunslinger and The Dark Tower, respectively (and with The Drawing of the Three, The Waste Lands, Wizard and Glass, Wolves of the Calla and Song of Susannah filling the gap), the series has been named King’s greatest work by both its multitudinous readership and the author himself.

Each book sports elaborate illustrations that help add colour to the tale of Roland Deschain, a gunslinger whose quest to find the perhaps literal, possibly metaphorical Dark Tower takes him on an epic journey which winds back and forth between our own world and the alternate realm of Mid-World like a thread along a seam. Definitely a set worth investigating for any curious reader, and practically required reading for any wishing to claim status as a King fan.

The world of Discworld from Terry Pratchett

Although without question a work squatting firmly upon the grounds of fantasy-fiction, Pratchett has made his mark both prominent and original with a gargantuan series that satirizes a genre often guilty of taking itself a bit too seriously. Caricaturing everything from ancient folklore and fairytales to Tolkien and Lovecraft, Discworld is a monster of a collection with dozens of individual books (honestly, I’ll say that the first is The Color of Magic and from there, you’re on your own) that has come to partially define the field it thumbs its nose at – meaning that, somewhere out there, the fantasy-satire-satire awaits.

Up until very recently, Discworld books dominated the British bestseller lists whenever released, with none but a certain young, bespectacled wizard able to finally snatch the crown. If fantasy’s your traditional fare, you’ve likely already taken the occasional wander through Pratchett’s world, though if not and when next looking for something lighter and less dire, Discworld awaits all comers.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

There are a few reasons why some people dislike a long series - those that grow to six- or seven-volume status or even occasionally hit double-digits. For some, three is the magic number, and anything beyond a trilogy appears overly complex and not worth the investment. For others, the suspicion that the author is making a grab at their wallet, rather than their imagination, is enough to turn them away from even the most creative and reasonably sized collections.

Whatever their reasoning, they who dislike the shelf-space-swallowing odyssey aren’t necessarily being unreasonable, as there are indeed a few collected works out there that could do to lose some considerable printed poundage. Whether the publisher is loathe to cut-off a profitable franchise or the author fears leaping to a new project, there’s any number of reasons for a series to be stretched beyond what most would consider its ideal limits.

On that note, for those of you who dread investing time and money in a series that simply refuses to grant closure, here are a few ways to tell if you’re riding a pony long overdue at the glue factory.

Beware the rehash

All authors, when developing a series, must link-back to previous installments. Different writers will take different approaches toward this, with some providing only minimal review of past events and characters, relying on the reader to do the memory-work and focusing on new developments. Others, particularly those with highly complex or lengthy stories, will include auxiliary sections, such as a dramatis personae or list of important factions/terms as a way of providing the reader reference, without taking space away from the new story at hand. Lastly, a third group will see need to embark on elaborate reviews of events long-since transpired, in order to properly frame those yet to come. It is this third variety that readers must be particularly wary of, for though some back-telling is necessary, an overt amount may actually be a disguised attempt to flesh-out a new volume that doesn’t actually contain enough new story to warrant an eighth or ninth installment. If it seems that your author is taking the proverbial one step back for every two steps forward, and one-third to one-half of each new volume is simply rehashing those which came before, be careful that you’re not following a series stretched two or three books too far.

No end in sight

While it’s true that sometimes even the author doesn’t know how their story will end until two or three books in, what many should realize about the success of some great series is the role played by the promise of a climax. Harry Potter fans understood from the start that Hogwarts’ was a seven-year program, and that accordingly, there would be seven books. Harry Potter would have done fabulously as a continuous set of stories going on for as long as people would buy the idea of a thirty-seven year-old student, but part of Rowling’s monumental success lay in the allure of that climactic seventh book.

A relative of mine once had the chance to speak with one of his favourite authors at a signing a few years back, and asked when the then-heptalogy might conclude, as things just didn’t seem to be advancing much as the books came out. In response, the author (who shall remain nameless, I’m not looking to get dragooned here) laughed. Wrap it up? Whatever for? Things were going fine.

Well, perhaps so, but he was down one frustrated fan after that day. If there is no mention by the author or publisher as to when the collection will conclude, be wary, as there might be a good reason for that.

Your hero is God

And by this I’m not referring to the Bible – even that monster of a compilation has its big finale – but rather, to heroes who grow to truly titanic proportions as their stories progress. Both fantasy and thriller genres are repeatedly guilty of this trend, with crusading warriors able to cut down whole armies with nary a wound in return, and Omega Force agents who seem to pick up mastered skills like I do rocks in my sandals . . . you know the type, speakers of all languages ever uttered, masters of martial-arts the world-over, seducers in under thirty seconds, seasoned pilots of all things winged, etc.

The problem with characters that attain ‘uber’ status is that even if the author has an ending planned, it’s unlikely to be satisfactory. On the one hand, it’s highly unlikely that such an untouchable leading-role will be off’ed in the end, while on the other, it would be almost as unconvincing for them to simply saunter off into the sunset, finished saving the world five times-over and now in search of a decent cribbage game a set of adult diapers.

The Bond structure

One point that should be mentioned: It isn’t always a bad thing that a series continues indefinitely, so long as the readership demands more.

Accordingly, there has arisen the ‘stand-alone’ series format, in which each volume is a story on its own, sometimes with nothing more in common between installments than a few primary characters. Each new adventure for James Bond presented a novel villain with accompanying unique plot for global domination, while a new Sherlock Holmes story promised, not the continuation of the last tale, but a new crime separate unto itself. This episodic format works fine for everyone but those actually looking for a grand finale (though even Sherlock Holmes had that), so just be sure of the nature of the series you’re looking at before taking the plunge.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

Here’s one for all my fellow writers out there (my fellow readers will hopefully indulge the divergence).

Perhaps the most common piece of advice dispensed to the yet-to-be-published writers of this world is to read, and read broadly. The idea of a writer who does not maintain a healthy reading habit is pretty much up there with ‘political integrity’ and ‘sober socialite’ in the oxymoron hierarchy, however it can sometimes be easy to fall into the rut of our favoured genre and forget that there is a great deal to be gained by treading new paths through the bookstore, and occasionally even forcing down a title or two from a genre that you’d normally have nothing to do with.

All writers have strengths and weaknesses. Some of us are able to create characters as real as the readers themselves, but then go and ramrod them into a setting and plot with as much life and realism as a Barbie dream home. Others are the exact opposite; forging elaborate worlds and page-turning storylines, only to populate them with characters about as imbued as the denizens of your average Where’s Waldo? page.

That being said, reading is very much like eating. Too much of one thing leaves many a bodily need unattended, while the ideal goal is a healthy, balanced and reasonably diverse diet. With that in mind, consider adding a little variety to your bookshelves, as a study of each genre will yield benefits in different areas.

Romance

Alright, to be fair, I’ll start with my own personal anti-purchase (I own about as many of these as Fabio does shirts with collar buttons). As little interest as I might have in reading romance, I can still see the merit of hesitating when next I pass the Wal-mart checkout. For one thing, while perhaps no other genre has been criticized as much for cookie-cutter character variants and clichéd storylines, it remains that the core of any romance novel is strong and complex inter-character relationships (and yes, that’s true in about every way you might take it). The best-done of this genre can serve as templates for how to get away from both the boy-meets-girl plot and those which are unnecessarily complicated by behaviours that a reader will find bizarre, unmotivated and unlikely to occur in their own world. There are certainly a good many writers of other genres who could do with a bit of practice when it comes to depicting people interacting realistically, be it in a romantic situation or otherwise.

Mystery

For anyone who’s ever been told that their plot was too predictable, straight-forward or simply not all that interesting, consider plucking something of the whodunit variety from the shelves. A mystery done well will keep readers enthralled until the end, desperate to prove capable of solving things before the hero does, and then have them flipping in reverse to review any and all glanced-over details before finally letting go. This isn’t to say that your non-mystery must involve a murder, butler and/or parlour (those three do tend to go hand in hand . . . millionaires take note) but that deciphering the plot structures of some of this genre’s better examples can reveal tricks for adding that same intriguingly addictive quality to your own work.

Fantasy

I have said it before, I shall say it again: There is no other field of writing that requires quite as much imagination and as broad a knowledge-base as does fantasy. Those who have not yet been won-over by the resurgence of Lord of the Rings or the emergence of Harry Potter may still sneer at fantasy as the realm of childhood fable (and it is, of course, along with other sub-genres that no one unable to earn a license should be allowed near), but it remains that to write quality fantasy is to exchange ten-percent of the effort involved in research and fact-finding – you often make your own world – for double that required in complex creative detail – you often make your own world. For those not familiar with fantasy, while a brief break from reality may not leave you ready to start writing of quests and quidditch, you will certainly gain exposure to new ways of imagining settings, characters, themes . . .

Non-Fiction

R-E-S-E-A-R-C-H. Some may find the world outside of fiction a dull, dry place, but like the Klondike and the Alberta Tar Sands, it’s often the seemingly barren locales that yield the greatest resources. Anyone struggling with character development would be depriving themselves of a valuable source of inspiration if they didn’t consider picking up a biography or two, while histories can yield-up new environments and settings (particularly for historic-fiction) and subjects on politics, science, economics, etc. will all prove literal mines for future plot twists and turns.

Classic Fiction

There is a reason why journalism majors are subjected to classes like ‘JSM 101 - The History of Journalism’, bio-students to ‘The Origins of Science’ and so on. For anyone looking to break into a field with a venerable past, it is a not-always obvious benefit to know the history of your career (not to mention a sign of respect). An author who has never read works such as Ivanhoe, Dante’s Inferno, Treasure Island or 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one who has turned their back on a host of examples showing – quite literally – exactly what they should trying to do. There’s a very good reason why, even if you haven’t read a one of those titles, you still recognized them. Think about it!

While by no means an exhaustive list, this should be enough examples to prove that, while very few people truly have a genuine interest in all forms of writing, anyone who intends to write well enough that someone else might one day look to their work for hints should keep an open mind, and an expansive bookcase.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

For the average fiction-writer today, the age-old complaint of ‘there’s simply no new fiction anymore’ is a constant irritant. This isn’t because they fear that anything they might write will be by-definition a rehashed piece of work, but because it’s simply not true.

With over six billion minds in this world all daydreaming on a regular basis, the idea that there can no longer remain any revolutionary fictional plot-concept or character is laughable, yet so often do we find our eyes rolling while halfway through a movie or book wherein the hero spouts that old clichéd line, the villain stops to describe a master plan that you’re pretty sure James Bond already thwarted a few years back, or the climax becomes clear a good half-hour before it actually rolls around.

So if humanity as a whole really has no limits when it comes to make-believe, why does it seem like so many works of fiction are simply old stories being played out by new faces?

Well for one thing, bear in mind this idea that the Fiction Well has gone dry is really only a few hundred years old, with complaints about there being nothing new in print appearing at pretty much the same moment that print did. With the development of the printing press and the mass-production of books, stories that had previously been restricted to a local region by word of mouth or to the affluent (who could afford hand-copied collections) were now spreading. As the amount of fiction available to one person began to grow, it obviously became more likely that two or more stories encountered would share certain traits, and once we reach the point we’re at today, with the internet, a globally connected publishing industry and thousands of authors churning out thousands more titles each year for public sale, it’s easy to see how overexposure can mask a truly new story.

So is it harder to create something utterly unique today? Most assuredly, but impossible? Take a look at just some of the most recent bestsellers and you’ll find plenty of novel novels. Harry Potter, for example, has been rightly heralded as a revolutionary work of fiction, while another newsmaker, The Da Vinci Code, created controversy in almost every market it hit by presenting a new take on the figure of Christ that had previously enjoyed almost no public consideration.

Now, despite the rather unique qualities of these two works, any detractor would have an easy time picking out the ‘old’ threads in an attempt to expose either as a clever rewording of a story already told. J.K. Rowling might be accused of encroaching upon Tolkien’s territory, with her use of witches and wizards, magic and the inevitable return of an old evil, while the idea of children escaping a troubled life by discovering an enchanted world smacks of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. Similarly, Dan Brown’s plot for Da Vinci has in the past been vindictively boiled down into nothing more than a high-speed treasure hunt, framed around a blatantly sacrilegious notion intended to provoke interest.

The problem with these critical comparisons isn’t that they’re inaccurate, but that they’re unreasonable. To demand that each and every newly published work of fiction have absolutely nothing to do with anything that came before is to require that an author forge a new genre with every book. The notion that using already used themes, character-variants or settings prevents an author from penning ‘new fiction’ is only true if that author uses them in the same old way that they were before. In the case of Harry Potter, it was the combination of wizardry and English schoolboys (you’d heard of both, pre-Potter, I’m assuming) which gave rise to the utterly unique world of Hogwarts, with its house-elves, quidditch tournaments and haunted lavatories.

As fiction continues to be written, there will always to be overlaps and yes, plagiarism shall abound. That being said, characters as refreshing as Jack Sparrow will continue to emerge in settings as imaginative as Diagon Alley, and meanwhile, new and groundbreaking forms of fiction will develop out of a revisit, revision or re-evaluation of older ones. So long as they entertain anew, there is no reason why possessing an obvious literary lineage should mar an otherwise original piece of writing.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

For those among us married to their careers, the personal is often sacrificed for the sake of the professional, and in no other aspect of life is this truer than the allocation of time. Friends are cancelled on, moments with family become a cherished commodity, and hobbies lie abandoned in the garden or atop the garage workbench. Of all recreational activities however, it seems that reading for pleasure is so often the first victim upon the alter; a fact that is particularly tragic when one stops to consider the obvious benefits that recreational reading offers to the professional promotion-seeker.

On that note, it’s time to remove dust from bookshelf and dog from armchair, as aside from the shear joy of it, allowing a mere half-hour for a good book at home will eventually make for better performance at work.

Communication – speak as you read

I’m not even going to bother arguing that developed communication skills are paramount in near every corner of the modern working world. The ability to speak clearly and with eloquence can be the difference between business deals and job offers sealed or spoiled, while nothing inserts that nagging doubt into the mind of an employer, client or partner like receiving a poorly worded, typo-infested email. If there is nothing to be gained by illiteracy, then there isn’t a person alive who shouldn’t constantly seek to expand their vocabulary and tighten their grip on wordplay.

That being said, there is no experience that can surpass a heavy reading habit when it comes to linguistic education. Constant exposure to old words in new contexts and new words used properly will eventually see more rounded sentences issuing from your lips, and manicured emails from your Blackberry.

You graduated . . . so what?

Just because you’ve hung that obscenely expensive piece of framed paper on your wall doesn’t mean you must stop seeking an education. Thankfully, pursuing one no longer requires a truckload of student debt, years of focused study and the ability to perform the One-Hand Superman Keg Stand. As with improving your grasp of language, an increased knowledge of more than just your area of expertise will ultimately help move you forward in any profession. Marketers must be aware of developing trends and understand the nature of that isolated fringe culture about to leap into the mainstream (think Lord of the Rings . . .), doctors will be better equipped to identify with patients of all walks if they know something of foreign cultures and traditions, while the difference between a machinist and the machinist who owns the shop he works in can often be little more than a grasp of good business practices and the psychology of salesmanship.

No matter the subject, be it Freakonomics or Harry Potter, National Geographic or Teen People, reading equates to knowledge, knowledge leads to success, and your brain does not come with a maximum capacity.

Avoid the overload

While your brain cannot be overlearned, it can very easily become overtaxed, and there exist very few things in the average Westerner’s life that are more likely to blow a synapse than the all-consuming career. Though it may seem counterproductive to try removing stress by reducing the amount of time you have to complete the job causing afore mentioned anxiety, that time will be better invested if put toward a task that will allow your mind to shut-down and cool a few pistons. By leaving one’s self time to simply relax and read at the end of the day, we introduce two things, the first being the obvious benefit of relaxation, while the second is the aid of anticipation. Even if it’s only noon and you’re trapped in your fourth meeting of the day, the knowledge that at some later point you will be able to fall into bed and snap on the reading light for thirty minutes can make all the difference.

Additionally, those who indulge in fiction enjoy the pleasant effects of escapism. Whether fantasy, sci-fi, romance or mystery, one of genre-fiction’s most potent attractions is the promise, not of a mere distraction, but of an entirely new set of problems and events far separated from our own, and which are not ours to deal with. A good book that ensnares its reader can temporarily banish the nagging concerns of the day and allow your brain to deal with little more than speculation as to who did the deed on the Orient Express, or why Frodo can’t simply get one of those giant eagles to drop the One Ring into the volcano for him.

Taken alone, any of these perks are of obvious benefit in the working world, yet as all three are guaranteed gains for anyone willing to set but half an hour aside each day to read, the advantages of turning off the cellular, closing the laptop and opening the hardcover are evident. A person who arrives at work each morning relaxed and refreshed is easier to deal with, while one who can speak on more than just shop-talk and who can do so engagingly is a pleasure. It is the energetic, eloquent and unendingly educated who will excel at work, and the secret is little more than an open book waiting back at home.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

Lately, I’ve begun noticing an odd little trend in the way people tell me about what they’re reading, and it seems to have something to do with whether it’s a man or a woman who’s doing the describing.

Now before anyone starts mentally pre-wording their angry letter to Suite, this is not going to be a sexist spiel about how one half of the species is better than the other, nor is it a rehash of that old and narrow-minded stereotype of ‘romances are for the ladies, while guys get the military non-fiction’. What I am talking about is the way in which we tend to describe a book—any book—to another, and more specifically, the elements of that book which we consider most important and worth focusing on.

To put this into context, I’ll describe the first two experiences I had which initially tipped me off to this quirk. On one evening now several evenings ago, my girlfriend and I were on a double-date with another couple. At one point, she started to talk about her latest reading material – a fashion murder-mystery; the kind with a white background and pastel-colour image of an uber-skinny woman in heels walking across the cover. At any rate, she told of how the book’s main character, an assistant for a high-powered fashion-designer—I’m going to glance over details like names, not because I don’t remember them (for I do, sweetheart, every word) but because I save the descriptive reviews for the articles—who discovers that her employer has been linked with the deaths of certain famous models. Our heroine is faced with an agonizing decision at first, because hers is the ultimate job and she never did like those conceited models anyway. In the end however, she is the heroine, and so cannot allow the crimes to go unsolved.

There, now contrast that with what my buddy, male-half of the couple we were with, said next about his current favourite, describing it as a historical-fiction about English sailors during the Napoleonic Wars, and their naval skirmishes with French galleons attempting to break through the English blockade.

Both descriptions are perfectly coherent and functional, yet one—‘the murdered models’—focuses more on a specific character and their motivations, actions, and role in the story and provides only as much information about the plot as is needed to put the character’s qualities into context. Conversely, the ‘war at sea’ story is laid out in terms of overarching plot, theme and with almost no mention whatsoever of actual characters.

Now, as many of you are likely thinking, this could have easily been a matter of two individuals differing in their approaches, and never mind gender. You’d be right in concluding such, but do trust that I wouldn’t have decided to write this if I hadn’t noticed the same tendencies in other examples since then, with men leaning toward reference to theme, plot and broad descriptions, while women appear more inclined to use the specific elements of a book, such as characters and the way they interact, to define what they’re reading.

That being said, I hardly expect you to take my experiences as evidence, so by all means, the next time you hear someone discussing a book, pay attention to whether the words “Well, it’s about . . .” are followed by either an introduction to the main character and whatever it is he or she gets up to, or a description of some defining theme or general plot.

So what does this all boil down to? Does it mean that one gender makes for a better book critic than the other? No, both approaches, focused or broad, do a fine job of describing a book. Does it mean that the minds of men and women work differently in some of the most unusual and random ways? Probably, and I doubt anyone’s really arguing the contrary. Does it mean that I need to spend less time thinking about books and book reviewing, and more time doing . . . well, some of that other stuff that people apparently get up to? Oh, indeed so. For yourselves however, take note of the next few book-related conversations you get into and see if you don’t pick up on this gender preference. To that end, you can even experiment on yourself – if you were going to describe a book briefly, in what way would you do it?

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

As I’ve said before on this site, it’s a rare individual who wouldn’t enjoy learning that their recommendation was taken to heart by a friend or loved-one, so why not put some effort into it when next plugging a preferred author or title?

Consider the following scenario: You and your friend have met-up and fallen into idle conversation, the course of which has now turned toward books. You’ve recently acquired a newfound favourite and believe your friend will enjoy it as well. You have also managed to open the conversation with a grab-line more imaginative and enticing than ‘It’s really great’ and so your friend now appears genuinely interested.

Your foot’s in the door; what do you say next?

Genre and how to use it

For some, it’s a book’s cast of characters that truly grabs their interest, while others look first for a stimulating plotline or a unique theme. Given that it’s often unlikely you’ll know your audience well enough to understand which of these they’re perked by (we often don’t even notice such details about our own preferences) why not broadly define all three in one go?

A book’s genre sums up its general qualities in one or two words, though while this might seem the ultimate marketing tool, simply declaring your book a romance, mystery, fantasy or alternate-history will also pigeonhole it in record time.

The trick

Try to avoid actually stating the genre, and instead look to what the terms ‘horror’, ‘thriller’, etc. really entail. For example, if you’re recommending a fantasy, try leading off with ‘It’s set in an alternate world, where an imperial court has become dominated by a dark, foreign stranger intent on using its armies to destroy his native homeland, as revenge for his being exiled years ago.’ (PS – I actually have no idea what book this might refer to, but if it comes close to anything you’ve read, by all means clue me in to it).

Here, we’ve basically used more words than necessary to dub a fantasy a fantasy. Alternate history, armies on the move, courtiers, at least the suggestion of magic and/or high political intrigue – all of these smack of fantasy-fiction and will accomplish two things that simply using the term ‘fantasy’ would not have; the first of which being that they declare the book a fantasy for those familiar with the genre and tell about the book’s unique features, rather than just those of its literary grouping.

Secondly, an extended description allows you to present the book in an interesting fashion for those normally turned-off by fantasy (and who would have lost interest immediately, had you simply used the f-word). Note that the goal here isn’t to deceive or trick someone into reading a book they wouldn’t normally go for, but to get around the stigma that genre-association can cause. A terrifying psychological thriller may be classified as horror, despite a complete lack of blood and guts, and so those who enjoy being frightened, yet who are turned off by the gory slasher aspect usually associated with the word ‘horror’ will likely pass it by.

In the end, your friend may simply cut through your clever wording with a dismissive nod and apply the genre title anyway, though don’t feel you can’t argue in defense of your book simply because of the section you found it in. Does a book in an alternate reality, but without any magic to speak of, really qualify as fantasy in the stereotypical faeries-and-princesses sense that turns off most critics? Does a book that can make you jump and sweat without disemboweling half the dramatis personae really rank as horror? When describing your book, use the qualities of genre to get passed the genre itself, and save your story from being judged by its shelf cover.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

With critics so often criticized as being over-opinionated and detached from the common readership, many of us look to our friends and family for insight on a book. Yet while we’ll tend to put more trust in the opinions of those we know, it remains that literary reviewers are professionals, and so when acting professionally, can draw attention to some of the finer points of plot, character and theme that your buddy may have glanced-over during his encapsulating review of “It’s great man, go buy it.”

Who then to trust? Or at least, who to trust more, when friend and featured review differ?

The synchronicity

Often enough, when you poll both the papers and the fellow reader, results will be more or less concurrent. Critics are people too, after all, and even if the author of your literary review column matches the cigarette-dangling, coffee house-haunting stereotype, chances are they’ll understand who the book’s intended audience is, and so long as it seems to hold appeal for that group, will keep their own strictly personal preferences out of the equation (though should the term ‘dreck’ appear anywhere in their review, fell free to file that column under ‘kindling’).

Chances are that the only real difference between an agreeing professional opinion and grapevine review will be the wording/level of detail involved. I once read a review for Erik Flint’s The Philosophical Strangler, a fantasy-satire and a book that now ranks highly among my personal favourites. In their description, the article’s author waxed eloquently about Flint’s unique cast of characters, descriptive wordplay and humour so wacky it may as well be British. Well, as it happened, I mentioned my intent to buy the book to a friend I met in a pub later that day, and received the following endorsement.

“Dude, you gotta read that one. At one point, [the hero] actually beats a guy to death with his own arm.”

Well, low-brow–beat me all you like, but this was the kind if thing I needed to look into, and never mind who’s advice I was acting on.

Opposing opinions

As you might guess however, the main consideration here is what happens (and who to go with) when it’s heads that are meeting, rather than minds. Your friend is a fiery supporter of the text in question, while the local critic is organizing a public book-burning later that day, for the good of the literary community (or vice versa).

Which to side with? Well for a number of reasons, my advice is to favour the friend. First-off, consider preference – while most critics have a specific genre/area that they specialize in, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that in this particular case, they decided to try broadening their scope and found themselves reading something they wouldn’t deem worthy of propping their off-kilter table. Critics are paid to review after all, and such can occasionally mean reading something that you normally would not. In the case of your confidant, unless they’ve got one truly unorthodox relationship going with the local librarian, chances are they’ve no reason at all to read anything they’d prefer not to, and so you can at least trust that a negative review from them was not made so by a simple dislike for mystery, horror, fantasy or whatever the case may be.

Secondly, there is the matter of accessibility. While a critic’s column will normally prove long enough (and those of you giggling now can head right on back to the children’s section), what they’ve written is what you get, and any questions not tended to will be left to nag at you while you stand before the bookstore shelf. Here then, is where the friend wins points for obvious reason. You may ask of them whatever you like, and as long as you’re not doing so with a 100-watt bulb in their face and a Russian accent, they’ll likely be happy to provide as much detail as your wallet demands.

That all having been said, know that there is a reason that we have critics in this world (as with lawyers, politicians, auditors, etc.). Barring Paris Hilton’s bio-picture album, books are complex things, and whereas a negative critique of a work you yourself enjoyed may only bolster an anti-critic bias, a positive one can drive you to not only purchase a new soon-to-be favourite, but lead to a re-read of that dog-eared veteran, which reveals enjoyable nuances and themes that you missed during the first or even second pass.

I of course expect you to reach your own conclusions on this and take my words as naught friendly advice; I am being a bit critical, after all.

Posted by Tyler Feltmate

“You should read it some time; it’s a really great book!”

Stripping away a few adjectives and perhaps an expletive or two, this little blurb sums-up what most satisfied readers convey when beginning to tell a friend or colleague about their latest favored title. It’s certainly positive, but put plainly, the chances that this’ll sway their audience are small and if it was a search for conversation-fodder which led to the topic of books in the first place, well they’ve just purchased about a good half-second’s worth (and back to that awkward silence we go . . .).

Like movies and music, it’s an odd thing to find yourself at a party where at least one fellow fraternizer hasn’t tried to plug a favourite book or author during small-talk. So given the frequency of the topic and the fact that it’s a rare individual who wouldn’t take satisfaction from learning their recommendation carried enough clout to see a friend or family-member reading the same book a day or two later, why not put a bit of style and effort into that next coffee-shop talk or beerside commune when someone mentions what they’ve been reading lately?

Consider this an ongoing challenge (and likely an ongoing blog topic): When next you start uttering niceties about a book, try employing the following hint and see if you actually manage a sale. Check back in a week with your interlocutor . . . were you the sage advisor of literary selection, or a mere stop-off on the conversational route toward ‘so you’ll never guess what my cat did yesterday . . .’?

Mind your language – and your opening

As most advertisers will expound, the key to a good campaign is a cornerstone phrase that’s short, sweet and encapsulating. Now, I’m not saying you need such a refined tool here, but wording - particularly that used in the first sentence spoken - does play a far more important role than would be suggested by the actual amount of thought most of us put toward it. Bear in mind that you’re after balance here; you want phrasing that’ll stick with your friend – all the way to the bookstore – but at the same time, don’t go getting too formal on them. For instance, avoid quoting whatever Joe Critic blurbed on the back cover.

First and foremost, consider that opening caption up top, for it balances upon the one word that should be avoided like any given plague you’d care to name. It’s ‘great’ . . . fair enough, the book likely is great, but this is unfortunately such an ubiquitous descriptor that it carries almost no weight at all in most contexts. There are a good many things in this world that are really, truly ‘great’ and you’d be amazed how few I’d be willing to spend $37.95 on (and perhaps appalled as to which I’d spend it on . . .).

Since ‘I’m reading this great book’ is usually the lead-in for most of us in this situation, know that whatever you swap for the g-word will be your grab-line, your first chance to secure their attention, lest they simply start nodding politely and contemplating what to interject with when next you stop for breath.

Consider the type of book if you’re unsure what to open with. If it’s a romantic drama, then something akin to ‘This new book honestly has me in tears by the time I put it down each night’ might work, whereas for a horror, perhaps try ‘I swear I’ve got to re-bolt my doors and grab the crucifix before I flip each page’. So long as you speak with sincerity and aren’t the type to bawl when the waitress gets your order wrong, or jump at her shadow when she brings it, then you’ve just given the book a certain potency in the mind of your audience, and hopefully gained their interest for what you’ll say next.

On that note, I’ve mentioned that the art of recommending reading will be an ongoing topic here and my word-count’s wracking up at present, so for now, take this hint to heart whenever talkin’ books, and always remember that far too often does a good book go unread, simply because someone couldn’t be bothered to recommend.