Latest newsletter is a roundup of all the books we read in the Read Like an Artist book club.
Notes on the art of reading books.
Mapping your books
A list is one thing, but making a map of the books you’ve read often reveals connections between them that you might have missed. (More in Tuesday’s newsletter: “A cluster map of books.”)
Read Like an Artist Zine
Lots of people said they weren’t able to get their hands on this zine during Indie Bookstore Day, so I posted the full text in last week’s Tuesday newsletter.
Here’s a preview of the first half:
Read the rest in the newsletter.
Instapaper triage

Alan Jacobs on how he uses Instapaper:
Whenever I see something online that I think I want to read, I put it in Instapaper — and then I try to leave it for a while. Often when I visit Instapaper the chief thing I do is delete the pieces I only had thought I needed to read. So for me it’s not just a read-later service, it’s a don’t-read-later service. But that only works if I don’t go there too often. I try to catch up with my Instapaper queue once a week at most.
Stealing this move.
Fore-edge painting and indexing

The outside edge of a book’s pages opposite of the spine is called the “fore-edge.” Like many things that are neglected or overlooked, it’s a place of great creative potential. Check out this video with fore-edge painter Martin Frost:
I don’t usually do all that much with the fore-edges of my books, except for my notebooks, which I sometimes index by rubbing ink or pencil over the page edges of some sections and labelling them. (See the logbook above.)
Most recently it occurred to me that I could use fore-edge indexing as a way to track the structure of a book. I was reading a book and it was going splendidly and then all the sudden I got bogged down. I suspected it had something to do with pacing and chapter length. So I did a fore-edge index and soon I had visual evidence of my suspicion: swelling chapters broke up the flow. (I could probably find similar evidence based on where I happened to dog-ear a page.)
This might be a good exercise for writers: make a fore-edge index of some of your favorite books, and see how they are structured and paced. For books that alternate narratives or subjects, you can use different colors. (See above.)
Filed under: marginalia
Read Like an Artist Zine + Independent Bookstore Day 2022 events
To celebrate Independent Bookstore Day 2022 and the 10th anniversary of the Steal Like an Artist, my publisher Workman and I produced a free 12-page glossy zine called “Read Like an Artist,” with 10 tips for a better life with books.
Here is a very short list of the bookstores who ordered a ton (250+) of copies:
- Books and Mortar, Grand Rapids, MI
- Skylark Bookshop, Columbia, MO
- Highland Books, Brevard, NC
- Mojo Books & Records, Tampa, FL
- hello again books, Cocoa, FL
- Books Around the Corner, Gresham, OR
- Commonplace Reader, Yardley, PA
- Afterwords Books, Edwardsville, IL
- The Bookstore of Glen Ellyn, Glen Ellyn, IL
- Sweet Reads Books, Austin, MN
- Octavia Books, New Orleans, LA
- Aesops Fable, Holliston, MA
- Next Page Books & Nosh, Frisco, CO
- Reads & Company in Phoenixville, PA
- Round Table Bookstore in Topeka, KS
- The Magic of Books Bookstore, Seymour, IN
There are literally hundreds of bookstores participating, so check with your favorite local indie to see if they got copies!
If you live in Austin, Texas or nearby, on Saturday, April 30, I’ll be at two of my favorite bookstores here in town, signing and drawing in my books and hand-selling my favorites.
10AM-12PM – I’ll be at Bookpeople, our flagship store in town. Get there early — they should have around 100 zines.
2PM-4PM – I’ll be at Black Pearl Books, my hyper-local neighborhood shop. They’ll have about 25 zines, so they might be out by the time I show up.
Our friends at Bookwoman should have about 100 copies, too, so that might actually be your best bet for snagging one in the 512 area code. (If you’re down south, I just found out that Reverie Books has a handful, too.)
For updates, subscribe to my newsletter.
Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics
My May pick for our Read Like an Artist book club is one of my all-time favorites and a bonafide classic: Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics. To join our discussion next month, sign up now.
Here’s my intro:
This a comic book about comic books. But it’s also much more than that: using the medium of comics, Scott McCloud explains a whole world of visual communication and teaches lessons that apply to anyone working in any kind of visual medium. To quote Art Spiegelman, the “simple-looking tome deconstructs the secret language of comics while casually revealing secrets of time, space, art and the cosmos!” Originally published in the early 90s, this book has become a contemporary classic, and is in my top 10 all-time influential books on my own practice. Even if you’re not at all interested in comics, I promise that you will learn something from McCloud. And who knows? It might even open up a whole genre for you. I love this book because after you read it, you see the whole world differently.
To join our discussion, sign up for the club.
My most important rule for reading
In this week’s Tuesday newsletter, I wrote about my most important rule for reading: “Read at Whim!”
10 good books I read this winter
This winter was not quite as tough as last winter, but it was still very bleak in streaks. My reading life didn’t quite match up to last year, but it was still good. Listed in the order I read them:
The Dancing Plague
Gareth Brookes
A comic like I’ve never seen, based on a dancing plague that happened in Strasbourg in 1518, made with a combination of “burning, stitching, and Photoshopping.” (I recommend this wonderful post about the process of making the book.) Does what comics do at their best. A perfect blend of materials and story. (This interview is really excellent, especially this part: “I’ve heard people say it takes 10,000 hours to master your style or your line or something, but to be honest I think it takes 10,000 hours to become boring and mediocre. The moment you master something is the moment you stop being creative.”) The medieval, mystical visions connect it with my favorite book from last year, Lauren Groff’s Matrix.
The Denial of Death
Ernest Becker
Elisa Gabbert said that when she read this book she “had the immediate sense that it belongs to the canon of books that… explain everything.” I feel a bit like that, too. I am especially interested in “The Creative Solution,” in which Becker talks about how many artists replace religion with art, only to discover that it’s never enough. “Whatever [the creative person] does he is stuck with himself, can’t get securely outside and beyond himself. He is also stuck with the work of art itself. Like any material achievement it is visible, earthly, impermanent.” Becker says: Look, if you’re an average person, you make gifts “that society specifies in advance,” but if you’re an artist, you give gifts that basically nobody asked for. And so, “there is no way for the artist to be at peace with his work or with the society that accepts it.” Bleak? Depends. For me, it was extremely comforting. As I’ve said for years, Death and Deadlines are my great motivators.
A Little History of Philosophy
Nigel Warburton
I came to the the Little Histories series after discovering and loving E.M. Gombrich’s A Little History of the World. I love samplers like this that introduce you to a great number of thinkers, giving you a very broad overview, and then you can pick and choose who you want to study in more depth. I think I may try to read a book from this series each year. (This episode of Warburton’s podcast Philosophy Bites is a good short introduction to the book. I was tickled to learn that the philosopher he most regretted leaving out was my favorite, Diogenes.)
Station Eleven
Emily St. John Mandel
I read this because everyone told me I was going to love the TV show. I enjoyed the book very much, and, in fact, had one of my first bathtub reading experiences with it! I had a delightful weekend afternoon soaking and finishing the final pages. As for the TV show: I found it completely bewildering. They changed the story in so many fundamental ways! While watching, I would say to Meg, “That’s not in the book,” and she would reply, “How is that possible?? It’s a major plot point!” and I would say, “I know!!!” I will say the costume design and the music supervision on the TV show was wonderful. I’d love to know what it would play like without the swelling strings and manipulative score. (In contrast, I re-read No Country For Old Men, and thought the same thing I thought when I read it over a decade ago: “This will make an amazing movie.” That movie is both extremely faithful to the book AND it uses no music! It’s a horror western without music! Incredible.)
The Varieties of Religious Experience
William James
The thing to know about William James is that the dude could write. He invents turns of phrases and sentences that just kind of leap out at you. Underlines everywhere. The other thing to know is that he was sort of a failed artist. (People have often joked that his brother Henry James was the psychologist and William James was the real storyteller.) I love reading him. This is a centripetal book — I was sucked into it from other books that point to it — but it’s also centrifugal, in that it spins you out to original sources that James uses. I will admit I did a lot of skimming of the individual stories in the books, which James sometimes quotes in several pages long blocks. But this is one of those books that goes up on my list of personal classics, one that I’m sure I’ll be returning to again. (I might revisit Robert Richardson’s bio of James.)
The Listening Book: Discovering Your Own Music
W.A. Mathieu
I read a handful of these essays on the art of listening at each meal. I started out with a library copy and then was taking so many notes that I ordered my own. It’s very beautiful and very unique. (The closest thing I can think of is R. Murray Schafer’s Ear Cleaning.) If you search for this book on a streaming service, there’s actually an audiobook of Mathieu reading some of the essays, accompanied by his own music. (Which, depending on your taste, might be a bonus and might not.) Many thanks to Derek Sivers for the recommendation.
King-Cat 81
John Porcellino
This is a zine, not a full-length book, but King-Cat is like a great ongoing book, and each issue means so much to me. I am a $5/month subscriber to Porcellino’s Patreon, which means I get every issue he makes mailed to me the minute it’s in the world. I set aside an hour or two and I go outside in the sunshine and I read the issue cover to cover. This one was especially wonderful. I think John P. is a true American original, a punk-zen-midwestern heir to Thoreau. Give him a MacArthur, you cowards.
All About Me
Mel Brooks
I can’t imagine digesting this in any form other than the audiobook, which includes Brooks frequently breaking into song. Brooks was born around the same time as my grandparents, and now that I don’t have any left in the world, hearing him tell stories was very comforting, like visiting a world that no longer exists. That said, the whole time, I was also reminded of Orwell: “Autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats.” The highlights of this highlight reel were the chapters on the making of The Producers and Young Frankenstein. Again, I’ll admit I did a bit of skipping around. If you just want to get a warm dose of his reminiscing, try this Fresh Air episode. (Related reading: “Say yes and never do it.”)
Anatomy of a Song: The Oral History of 45 Iconic Hits That Changed Rock, R&B and Pop
Marc Myers
When I am bottomed out with my reading, I look for quick music books, and I especially love oral histories. This is not the strongest one I’ve ever read — it’s a bit hit or miss, depending on who’s doing the talking — but it’s an enjoyable collection of Myers’ popular column. Sometimes I need a book like this just to regain my momentum. When you’re cycling, there’s something called a “recovery ride”: you don’t actually stop to rest your legs, you just go easy, get the blood flowing. That’s what a book like this does for me. (If you want something a little deeper on songwriting, check out Paul Zollo’s Songwriters on Songwriting books.)
Just Ride: A Radically Practical Guide to Riding Your Bike
Grant Petersen
This was recommended to me after I shared my new obsession with bicycling. Because the world is very small, I discovered that my current editor at Workman, Mary Ellen O’Neill, worked on this book around the time that Steal Like an Artist came out. (Sidenote: this is the kind of book Workman does best: unique trim size, paperback, but feels classy, great design and illustrations.) This was the perfect book at the perfect time: after a few weeks of riding with serious cyclists, and starting to feel the pressure to give into the synthetic stretchy shirts and clipless pedals, it captured the spirit I want in my own cycling (and in my art): The bicycle is a toy, and you’re supposed to have fun with it. Just ride. (Just draw. Just write. Just read…)
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Two more books worth mentioning: Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire (trashy, which I enjoy, but too long) and Joy Williams’ Ill Nature (ranting, which I also enjoy, but back-loaded: the essays on “Autumn” and writings at the end are worth the price of admission.)
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Nell Painter’s Old in Art School
My April pick for our Read Like an Artist book club is Nell Painter’s Old in Art School: A Memoir of Starting Over. To join our discussion next month, sign up now.
Here’s my intro:
Is it ever too late to become an artist?
At the age of 64, Nell Painter, an accomplished historian and writer, best known for her acclaimed bestselling books, The History of White People and Sojourner Truth: A Life, A Symbol, decided to go back to art school. This book is her “memoir of starting over” and details her time navigating a world that is predominantly young and white. Her classmates are shocked by her age and one professor tells her that she will never be a real artist. Despite it all, she finds meaning in the art and artists she loves, and investigates age and race in the art world. This book is a first for the club because… I’ve never actually read the book! It’s been recommended to me by countless people whose taste I admire, and I’ve been meaning to read it for years, so I’ll be reading it along with y’all.
To join our discussion, sign up for the club.
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