A Backward-Bound Book: The Role of Books in a Young Writer’s Life

By Fiona Broadie

 

          I started writing when I was seven or eight. I made my first book (accidentally bound backwards) out of printer paper and marker, a tale about an insufferable blond princess in search of a magic comb. This was my first brush with using and abusing narrative structure, subverting expectations with an unlikeable but ultimately loveable protagonist. I probably got the idea from Junie B. Jones and Judy Moody, two of my early favorite anti-heroes. 

          My reading picked up in middle school and I adopted the unimaginative nickname of “Bookworm” by classmates who watched me bump into walls and walk down stairs while keeping my eyes fixed on the page. I stole and returned books from the school’s library when my borrowing tab was capped. My favorite series at this time was A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. Once again, I admired the subversion of the literary norm through the absolute refusal to indulge in a happy ending.

          In high school, I loved 1984 by George Orwell for its own anti-hero and its dive into the multilayered human subconscious within the larger context of a collapsing society. At this time in my life when my own subconscious was ripening with age and my society was showing signs of deep political division, I related to Orwell’s portrayal of fear and the limits of selflessness. 

          When I needed to choose a major for college, English was the obvious choice. Reading and writing were the only subjects I’d ever been skilled in, let alone sustainably enjoyed. I found a purpose through writing humor columns for my first college’s newspaper, The Mass Media. I reread Bill Bryson for inspiration, trying to find my funny voice by learning the fluctuations of his. I transferred to Boston University two years later and chose Journalism as my new major. With the help of nonfiction writers like Dave Cullen and Megan Twohey, I was beginning to find my voice. I knew I wanted to write for the purpose of change, fighting climate change with words in the hope that the old adage was true: the pen is mightier than the sword. I started a new column at The Daily Free Press where I educated my fellow students about climate change and kept them updated with environmental policy changes.

          Now, at age twenty-one, my all-time favorite book is Truth and Beauty by Ann Patchett. I love this novel because it is an honest look at lifelong female friendship, and it honors its subject through its wrenching detail. Patchett chose to share every delicate, thorny truth about her late best friend to not shortchange the beautiful picture she was creating of their lives together. I believe this is the pinnacle of great writing: to write for yourself and to share without restraint, all for the sake of what Patchett sweetly named Truth and Beauty.

          This Spring I am graduating from college, and I return to my young memories more often than I ever have. They come to me suddenly, brought about by some latent correlation between present and past. Once, it was the way the wind shifted, carrying the light scent of nearby cherry trees— and behind my eyes flashed a still of age fourteen, lying in Long Hunter State Park. My mom and dad took me there to hike, and when we got hungry we found a spot to eat our cheese sandwiches and read our books. I reread chapters of All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot. It was one of my favorites and I had consumed it until the pages were furled and stained. I loved Herriot’s fictionalized veterinary adventures because of the author’s dependable voice, his slow and quiet romance, and his characters— gritty, warm and somehow more real than life. The series he wrote has always inspired me to write my sources and characters in great detail, hopeful that they will jump off the page in the same way his did.

          As I graduate from university and begin my career as a professional storyteller, I know that the books I read growing up and the books I read now will continue to inspire and guide my writing in every new interest and endeavor for change. I know I will not write well without reading what’s been written before me and mastering the structure of that genre. Just as a baby learns to talk by listening to others, I learn to write on each new beat by reading those who formed the path long ago. I admire their writing and hope that one day fresh writers will admire my own.