So I have always had a problem or a mental block in visualizing things when they're described in a book. I have often skipped those parts because it's just boring and doesn't contribute to my enjoyment of a book.
Lately though I've read some with incredibly strong visual descriptions and I'm starting to be able to picture stuff. And I learned that I think I can learn how to visualize, if I build that muscle.
The ones I read that have actually been able to paint mental pictures for me:
Bleak House and Little Dorritt
Far from the Madding Crowd
Regency Buck
Jane Eyre (to a lesser extent, because the descriptions are SO long and lost me in the middle)
The Woman in White
One modern one I can think of is The Rent Collector, about a super poor village in Cambodia. THOSE descriptions were also super vibrant and I could get a mental picture. Also, Lonesome Dove, I was able to visualize the catastrophic weather events that were described.
So, definitely a bent to 19th C literature, but I am open to all eras including modern. I can't read modern romance/any smut; fantasy is not great for me especially for this reason; mysteries aren't my favorite but I can be persuaded.
Help me build that muscle in my brain! Thanks in advance.
by DTownForever
4 Comments
Something very similar in tone to Bleak House is Daphne du Maurier’s {{Rebecca}}. I read it years ago and still can’t forget the first few pages and the vivid picture it paints of the house of Manderley.
I love Anne Rice for her vivid descriptions. I feel like I’ve been to the Garden District in New Orleans because of her. I recently read The Servant of The Bones. Although the dialog felt a little clunky compared to her other books, I felt like I traveled to ancient Babylon. Her books are considered horror/fantasy but they don’t feel like it to me.
“The Crimson Petal and the White” by Michel Faber
“The Name of the Rose” by Umberto Eco
“The Sheltering Ski” by Paul Bowles
Very different from each other, but with beautiful and captivating descriptions
I personally hate descriptive prose 😆 So my thinking is that the book I hated the most on those grounds might be just what you’re looking for: The Books of Jacob by Olga Tokarczuk.