Why we should all read more fiction

Do you remember the last fiction book you read? 

This post isn't about bashing non-readers nor non-fiction books. We obviously should also read more non-fiction, if we're even reading at all. But fiction books are seriously under-read, especially in our achievement-focused hypercapitalistic nation that is Singapore. Even in recent years when our high-level ministers have been promoting reading, it has always been about non-fiction books. Seems like the only place where fiction is acceptable is by kids. Why aren't adults encouraged to read more fiction? 

The human psyche itself is wired to live on stories. In fact, the fundamental essence of human society is based on stories. Yuval Noah Harari talked about this 'intersubjective reality' in his books Sapiens and Homo Deus (non-fiction, yes) as the basis for why humans outcompeted every other species, even our other Homo genus ancestors. The government obviously recognises this; that's why every national day is filled with the latest inspiring story of 'what it means to be a Singaporean'. Seriously, they have a specific page on the SG60 website dedicated to 'stories'. Every 'in-group' we feel we belong to are due to the stories we, humankind, have manufactured and inculcated in our young. Be it through nationality, religion, or even the football clubs one supports, the belief in the same story is what binds people from vastly different backgrounds together.  

Photo by Blaz Photo on Unsplash. 

Films, TV series, these are all stories, just told in a different visual format. But watching something, where it's all told and shown, as compared to reading, which stimulates our imagination, are quite different experiences. A book is considerably slower; it forces us to concentrate for a longer period of time, bringing our attention onto the power of the words and the illusions they foster. Whereas even the most diehard directors don't make films longer than 4 hours, fiction books often take a much longer time to finish reading, offering more space for both breaks and plot development. Of course, not all fiction books are equal in their depth, story-telling, and intention.

I generally like to summarise fiction books into two broad categories:

1) Commute fiction, aka easy-going fiction

These are the kind of books that anyone can read. Simple, flowing language that brings you into the story, and serves as a getaway from the hustle of our workday. They don't have to offer anything deep, it could be read just to bring our attention back into focus. These are the books I like to read to and fro work, hence 'commute fiction'. Agatha Christie fits the bill here perfectly. Die-hard Agatha fans, please don't come after me. I can choose to actively think about the clues in her book, who might be the most probable murderer, but often times I just enjoy the flow of her writing and read it as an alternative to using my phone. I don't read her books with an aim to really obtain any knowledge, or evoke deep emotions within me. Her books are an enjoyment for me, and that's enough. 

These are usually the type of fiction which non-fiction lovers, or even non-readers, like to look down upon and criticise. 'Oh you don't learn anything from them'. Well. At least I can read them on my commute instead of some economic theory which my work-fried brain can no longer internalise. I would also gladly take the opportunity to read rather than to use my phone, as though I've not already spent enough time looking at a screen. Some of them also offer a fictional escapade to a different world, and makes me wonder what life could or would have been in an alternative universe. Of course, there are times where I read non-fiction on my commute, but I often lean towards those that tell a story - Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang (biography), and Dibs: In Search of Self by Virginia Axline (a really old book from my dad's collection) are two of my more recent reads.

2) Deep, thought-provoking fiction, aka seriously literary fiction

These are the books which make you think. Like seriously think. In a similar but vastly different manner in which commute fiction offers an escapade, seriously literary fiction offers an intellectual escapade, where we engage the 'humanities' part of our brain through active interpretation and attention to the details. Such fiction are by no-means easy reads. But it is precisely through the challenges of internalising, deciphering, and understanding the author's creative choices that we really feel the meaning of the literature. 

Here are where classics belong: they're classics because of the relevance of the themes to society, either in the past or in the present. These are often fortified through stylistic writing, world building, a critique on the political and social situation in countries or just some peculiar charm to the way the author pens the story down. The good news is that we've all most likely read at least one classic before in our English lessons. I'm not sure what the compulsory reading list is now, but for my cohort, it was Animal Farm and To Kill a Mockingbird. Though I could not appreciate much of the nuances or literary choices made by the authors back then, the premise and the lessons remained with me. I've not gone back to reading them, but I'm inclined to believe that when I eventually do (assuming I can find the book in my bookshelf), that my perception of the book will differ vastly from when I read it as a thirteen year old.

This is another major point of these thought-provoking fiction books: they can be re-read many times, and one is likely to feel differently. Perhaps the memories of the first time you read the book are re-ignited. But the way you internalise and understand the prose would have changed. New lessons could be gleaned; new thoughts arise; new emotions stirred. I can only speak for myself, but it isn't easy for me to find a book which does all of these things. Even some classics don't really hit deep, perhaps because of their historical significance which seem too far away for me (The Old Man and the Sea was once such book). But when I do, I find myself entangled deep into the realm of the author, trying desperately to find a way out but failing every time, only to discover endless caves of wonder. Then the eventual journey out makes me feel, 'Wow'. 

The latest fiction book I finished reading was 100 Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquiez. And oh boy, was it the deepest, darkest, most evocative book I've read probably in my whole life. It is a book which I hated reading at the start, and only as I got deeper, and deeper into the realms of his magical world, did it hit. Hard. It is like eating a chilli padi. You start with dipping it in soy sauce, then realising it's barely shiok enough. Proceeds next to eating a tiny piece, followed by more. Soon, you've finished the entire chilli padi. Only then do you realise your mouth, throat, nose, and your body is on fire. It's too late though, you gotta get the ice cream out to douse the flames, but even then it doesn't help much. That's what I felt like reading this book. It was dark pretty much from the start, but quite descriptive and relatively banal. It was of course well written, so I followed through. Damn, I really really hate some of the characters here, but I'm too far invested in it to give it up. So I trudged on. And somehow, I find myself flipping page after page. Then I find myself in such a deep state of contemplation, sadness, and well, solitude. God damn.

Definitely worth a read.

The caveat is obviously that one has to be in a good mental state to read this. This is not a book I would want to read on my commute. If I was not recovering post-op, I probably would not have found the headspace to read 100 Years of Solitude. It's a book that I would only read when I'm not under high pressure, as it's likely to make me even more stressed. However, there are definitely easy-reading books which are also thought-provoking. Mitch Albom's books hit home really hard, and I've definitely cried reading them. It's a mark of a great author who could write simply yet evoke deep emotions within the reader. If you've not read a fiction book in years, I would highly recommend starting with Mitch Albom. Just be prepared to tear up. 

Could it be that we don't want to spend the time and effort to understand and dive into the fictional world created by the author? This was one of the main points a friend of mine brought up, when I was discussing this topic with him. Non-fiction doesn't require as much effort and patience to immerse ourselves in the world, since the background is the current world we live in. That makes it easier for us to think about the points posited by the author. But surely disregarding alternative universes stifles our creativity, no? If we're not even open to hearing about different worlds, different political systems, different value systems, how are we meant to develop solutions to solve 'worldly' problems?

It's difficult, I get it. Some times it's easier to pick up our phones and turn on Instagram than to pick up a book. I've definitely been there. But just like any other routine or hobby, it takes time to build up the habit. Personally, I don't have a dedicated time to read, as long as it's during the day (I like the natural sunlight rather than a harsh white light). I also have books scattered in a few places around the house, strategically placed to catch my eye and remind me to read. Perhaps you could try a phone alarm or a reminder to read at a dedicated time. It's a process of trial and error; do what works for you. 

The choice of book, at least for me, depends heavily on my mood at the time. This is why I actually read at least one non-fiction and one fiction book at the same time. I don't force myself to read something I don't feel like reading at the current moment. Contrary to what it may seem, non-fictions are quite a staple in my collection, although I'm generally in more of a fiction phase. Yuval Noah Harari's Homo Deus was probably the book that got me back into reading seriously, during the boring days of time-wasting that was NS. A brilliantly written outlook on worldly affairs that is perhaps one step closer and relatable to our society than most seriously literary books. It definitely got me thinking about the world in a way that I've never before thought about. A mark of a great book. But it still doesn't make me feel the same way a thought-provoking fiction book does. 

Singapore is notoriously famous for 'lacking in creativity'. I don't think that's completely true, but could reading more fiction allow us to toy with unconventional or completely crazy ideas? Even if it might not immediately see results or might just fail? I wouldn't be able to tell. Maybe, let's ask your MP about the last fiction book they read. 

If you've read till here, good job. Go pick up a fiction book mate ;)

In case you're intrigued, here are 5 fiction books (in no particular order) I've enjoyed reading the most in the past few years. It'll probably change over time, it's just a reflection of what I think at the current moment I'm writing this.

• The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom
• Why I like it: No fancy language needed. Purely a heartfelt and emotional story from the heart. It made me think of what really is important to my own life, and the things I should prioritise.
• 100 Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquiez
• Why I like it: Everything I wrote up there...
• The Good Earth, by Pearl S Buck
• Why I like it: Another generational story, this time based in late Qing/early Communist China. I'm not sure what draws me so much to generational stories, but perhaps the parallels I see in my own family history? It just feels so real and I could only imagine the struggles and the thoughts of the people who lived then...Fun fact: Min Jin Lee quoted this book as one of her inspirations too! 
• Pachinko, by Min Jin Lee
• Why I like it: Again, a powerful fiction rooted in history. Fantastic character development, conveys the pains, horrors, discrimination that Koreans living in Japan had to experience. Truly deserving of the fame it has. 
• Grey Bees, by Andrey Kurkov 
•  Probably the least well-known book of the lot. I stumbled across it in Primhose Community Library (in London) while borrowing books related to bees for my dissertation. The bees weren't that important to the plot, but it was a surprisingly enjoyable read. It's what I imagine an 'arthouse' book would be like: a slow, thoughtful reflection of the lives of innocent people who no longer can navigate a world that throws their entire livelihood into chaos.
• Honourable Mention: Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens. 
• Very sus circumstances surrounding the author and her husband, I don't like her potential involvement in crimes so it's only a HM. 
• Why I like it: Fantastic creation of mystique and character development. Incredible world building, with so much detail of the plants and birds. 

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Music of choice: As usual I wrote this over multiple sessions. I couldn't remember all of the songs I listened to, oops.

Miles Davis, Circle in the Round (1967) 

Elza Soares - A Mulher do Fim do Mundo (2015). Full Album

杨乃文《推开世界的门》，《女爵》