First of all, time for a mini-celebration. If you’d told me back in October that I’d write 50 posts – at all, let alone before 6 months were over – I wouldn’t have believed you. The idea that I could find the time to regularly write and edit and share 50 essays of Thoughts on Books would have seemed beyond belief. At the time, I was a Reading Machine, but mostly kept my thoughts to myself.

Yet here we are, 6 months later, at post #50! I’ve found that blogging has created a new mode of reading for me – one that’s more consistently thoughtful and engaged. So far, despite 6 months of book blogging, I’ve managed to avoid any reading binges into mediocre series. (After all, there’s not much to write about with those particular reads…) And I’ve also enjoyed highlighting the elements of genre fiction that I find under-appreciated, whether it’s the epistolary format or the traditional mystery.

In that spirit, I want to spend this post on a re-read, and an epistolary one at that. Last year, one of my favorite books was The Twyford Code by Janice Hallett – a modern master of the epistolary genre. The book itself comprises (mostly) a series of transcripts of voice notes left by an ex-prisoner, Steven Smith, as he investigates an episode from his past. It’s full of twists and turns, and Hallett uses the full power of the genre to create an intriguing adventure. The rest of this post will be a breakdown of my re-reading experience – so be warned: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Taking it slow

When I first read the book, I devoured it, rushing through the pages. The code in question was created by (fictional) children’s author Edith Twyford, a clear play on Enid Blyton. While critics have repeatedly cancelled Blyton, several of her series served as my entry into reading (and mysteries in particular). As you can imagine, reading a book in my favorite format which referenced a highly nostalgic author kept me flipping pages pretty quickly. And though I left happy and satisfied, I did wonder if I’d missed out a bit based on the speed of my read-through. Enter: the re-read.

It’s a weird trait, but I strongly prefer experiencing stories once I know the ending. (I’ll often spoil myself for movies, which drives my husband nuts.) While I appreciate the first impact of a dramatic ending, I love breaking down exactly how the writer enabled that impact. A twist ending isn’t any good if it comes out of nowhere – it needs to have the proper setup to make it worthwhile. The best twists are those that can hold up to repeated scrutiny – rereads and breakdowns.

So with this read of The Twyford Code, I took it a bit slower, to see how I felt about those pieces. (Last chance – MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD! Don’t say I didn’t warn you…) And happily, the big twist mostly held up. Reading the novel with the understanding that Steve had invented the Code for his son made the effort seem so much more impressive. It also made the interludes about the Harrison gang feel less disjointed (I’d rushed through them on first read).

A minor linguistic interlude

But – it was a bit of a double-edged sword. Because as impressive as Steve’s feat is, this re-read made me question how feasible the transcripts actually were. Lucy the librarian has a unique and highly educated voice. There were certain long sections where I found myself doubting that Steve could have kept up the charade (or mustered the vocabulary) for quite so long.

I recognize that Steve is a completely unreliable narrator with potentially deep wells of vocabulary… But that’s only shown through his invention of Lucy, and it’s a bit harder to buy it he second time. While I was able to re-suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy the read, it did mess up the twist. Because while Lucy’s voice makes perfect sense for a librarian, the idea that Steve could so quickly and completely shift personalities for such an extended period of time is… interesting, to say the least.

With the benefit of hindsight…

I find that my re-reads often focus on the techniques used by an author. I focus my re-reading energy on the books that merit some kind of intense reaction – surprise, or pleasure, or calm. High on the list are the books I can’t stop thinking about, even months or years later.

You can’t step in the same river twice, and I don’t expect to recreate the same level of reaction. Instead, I re-read to understand both the author and myself – what elicited my response, both technically and emotionally? It’s a bit meditative – and in many ways, similar to blogging (especially when I write those thoughts down later).

With The Twyford Code for instance – what made me love it so much last year? Yes, it’s a well-written novel in a genre I adore, but it goes deeper than that. The Enid Blyton references – and the guilty appreciation for her works – made me feel seen. The idea of a clever ex-con making good for his son caught my imagination at a time of family stress. And the cleverness of the format caught my attention – I’ve never seen someone create such a complex puzzle from voice recordings!

This is what I mean by “Hallett uses the genre.” Transcriptions are old hat, we’re used to the idea of epistolaries as “found footage”. But Hallett takes our assumptions about transcribed voice notes – that they must reflect real occurrences – and uses them to set up a huge twist. And she uses our assumptions about Steve to further the ploy. It’s the perfect setup, combining multiple elements of the genre to push it farther than others before her.

Could I have articulated this on the first read? Maybe – but unlikely. I was too caught up in the wonder of it to break down what I’d just read. But that’s the magic of a good re-read – it’s the peek behind the curtain. And it’s the insight into our own preferences and pleasures, as well.

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If folks are interested, I’d love to more consciously pursue re-reads here. (Although it might take a while… I’ve over scoped myself quite a bit this year!)

Until next time – stay cozy, and stay curious!