A Little Help Please?

How much of a book’s text do you need to tell if it’s for you?

Imagine you’re in a bookstore and, out of curiosity, you pick up a novel. You might glance at the title, the cover, the author, and—if it catches your interest—read the blurb on the back. Only then do you tend to open the book itself, perhaps at the first page or somewhere in the middle, just to get a feel for the style and tone of the writing.

This past week, I’ve been reading a brilliant book I came across in the Stanford Library: Lost in a Book by Victor Nell. Written in 1988, it’s full of fascinating insights into the psychology of reading for pleasure. In fact I’m enjoying it so much that I’ve already bought my own second-hand copy, which arrived yesterday looking almost brand new, despite being 38 years old! Hooray for Abebooks.

Anyway, a good proportion of this book is based on research carried out with college students and librarians back in the 1980s. One aspect I find especially interesting involved asking people to rank short extracts from different books according to how likely they would be to read them. This approach immediately caught my attention, as I’m thinking about using something similar to explore how well Recommendance can suggest books for you. The idea would be to ask people to sort brief extracts by preference, while Recommendance independently ranks the books for the same reader—then compare the two.

So I’d love a little help.

I’m curious to understand how much text you personally need in order to get a reliable sense of whether a book feels right for you.

Below is one of the extracts used by Victor Nell, which I’ve split into three parts.

In the comments, could you let me know which of the following would be enough for you to make a judgment? Solely about the book’s style and tone.

• A only

• A + B

• A + B + C

There’s no right answer here—just your instinct.

A) As I sat there in that now lonely room; the fire burning low, in that mild stage when, after its first intensity has warmed the air, it then only glows to be looked at; the evening shades and phantoms gathering round the casements, and peering in upon us silent, solitary twain; the storm booming without in solemn swells; I began to be sensible of strange feelings. I felt a melting in me.

B) No more my splintered heart and maddened hand were turned against the wolfish world. This soothing savage had redeemed it. There he sat, his very indifference speaking a nature in which there lurked no civilized hypocrisies and bland deceits. Wild he was; a very sight of sights to see; yet I began to feel myself mysteriously drawn towards him. And those same things that would have repelled most others, they were the very magnets that thus drew me.

C) I’ll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness has proved but hollow courtesy. I drew my bench near him, and made some friendly signs and hints, doing my best to talk with him meanwhile. At first he little noticed these advances; but presently, upon my referring to his last night’s hospitalities, he made out to ask me whether we were again to be bedfellows. I told him yes; whereat I thought he looked pleased, perhaps a little.

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Thank you. I’ll be really interested to see what you think!