Nick Hornby writes about How to Read.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who harrumphs his way through a highly praised novel, astonished but actually rather pleased that so many people have got it so wrong.

As a consequence, the first thing to be cut from my reading diet was contemporary literary fiction. This seems to me to be the highest-risk category – or the highest risk for me, at any rate, given my tastes.

I am not particularly interested in language. Or rather, I am interested in what language can do for me, and I spend many hours each day trying to ensure that my prose is as simple as it can possibly be.

But I do not wish to produce prose that draws attention to itself, rather than the world it describes, and I certainly don’t have the patience to read it.

I’m trying to think of writers who hit a certain balance: sharp, luminous writing that also catches you off-guard with its everyday readability. Literary MacGyvers, if you will. The ones that come to mind right now are Tim O’Brien and William Gibson.