I'm curious: how far into the book were you when you came across the sentence that stopped you? It's probably easier to take a pause and allow yourself to be vulnerable if the author has taken their time to establish trust. I read a book once that made a bold pronouncement on the very first page, which raised my suspicion for the entire story (honestly I should have stopped there--I only read it as a favor to a friend and it was... pretty awful). The point is that it was hard to give the writer my trust so early on, and in a time when it seems a lot of writing tends toward short (social media posts, etc) that really limits the amount of time to build it.
I understand the importance of establishing trust early on, but I sometimes wonder if the first task is actually to establish space for the reader rather than immediate agreement.
To answer your question directly, the line that stopped me appeared in the second paragraph of the introduction. I remember thinking, “Well, that’s presumptive.” I didn’t agree with it then, and even now I’m not sure I do.
What kept me reading was not trust so much as the sense that the author was offering a perspective worth examining. Over time that willingness to engage slowly built trust.
That experience was with nonfiction, though. With fiction the threshold is much stricter for me—if I don’t trust the storyteller very early on, I’m usually done.
Yeah the one I was talking about was fiction, and that book ended up being a thinly veiled political rant. 🙄 I can see wanting to explore a different perspective further in a nonfiction work, especially after the introduction.
I like the way you say it, "establish[ing] space for the reader." That's pretty foundational to what trust is, I think. I'm going to open this door and invite you into a narrative, but I need to assure you I'm not going to push you and I'm not going to force your point of view.
Your words today remind of when reading Stephen King's *On Writing* when it first came out. He warned about taking writing classes and the phrase that stuck with me was the students in the class tend to use fancy words to create an "artificial sense of profundity."
As an English major I'd tried to read many books like that, Michael Chabon comes to mind first, and I could sniff the chest puffing words and really struggled to get past it. Contrast that with books by the Bronte sisters or say Flaubert, and I was mesmerized but the simplicity. I don't just find room for those stories, I'll stop everything for them because I've connected with the natural storytelling. It's not "try hard."
That doesn't mean it's cozy or light -- on the contrary! It means I feel alive while I read versus needing to pause every five words to grab a dictionary or look for hidden meanings.
And if we're being honest here, it's the kind of writer I always strive to be.
Thanks for this post. You've really peeled back the layers on narrative trust and it's making me look deeper even more.
I know exactly what you mean. Writing that feels like it’s trying to impress rather than communicate can break the connection for me as well.
Simplicity—when it’s genuine—is often far more powerful. The Brontës are a great example of that: nothing feels ornamental, yet everything carries weight.
I think that’s where narrative trust quietly forms. The reader senses the writer isn’t performing or showing off, but simply trying to tell the truth of the story as clearly as possible.
Thank you for reading so closely and for the thoughtful reflection.
I'm curious: how far into the book were you when you came across the sentence that stopped you? It's probably easier to take a pause and allow yourself to be vulnerable if the author has taken their time to establish trust. I read a book once that made a bold pronouncement on the very first page, which raised my suspicion for the entire story (honestly I should have stopped there--I only read it as a favor to a friend and it was... pretty awful). The point is that it was hard to give the writer my trust so early on, and in a time when it seems a lot of writing tends toward short (social media posts, etc) that really limits the amount of time to build it.
I understand the importance of establishing trust early on, but I sometimes wonder if the first task is actually to establish space for the reader rather than immediate agreement.
To answer your question directly, the line that stopped me appeared in the second paragraph of the introduction. I remember thinking, “Well, that’s presumptive.” I didn’t agree with it then, and even now I’m not sure I do.
What kept me reading was not trust so much as the sense that the author was offering a perspective worth examining. Over time that willingness to engage slowly built trust.
That experience was with nonfiction, though. With fiction the threshold is much stricter for me—if I don’t trust the storyteller very early on, I’m usually done.
Yeah the one I was talking about was fiction, and that book ended up being a thinly veiled political rant. 🙄 I can see wanting to explore a different perspective further in a nonfiction work, especially after the introduction.
I like the way you say it, "establish[ing] space for the reader." That's pretty foundational to what trust is, I think. I'm going to open this door and invite you into a narrative, but I need to assure you I'm not going to push you and I'm not going to force your point of view.
Exactly! Well said, young one!
Such a good question!!
Your words today remind of when reading Stephen King's *On Writing* when it first came out. He warned about taking writing classes and the phrase that stuck with me was the students in the class tend to use fancy words to create an "artificial sense of profundity."
As an English major I'd tried to read many books like that, Michael Chabon comes to mind first, and I could sniff the chest puffing words and really struggled to get past it. Contrast that with books by the Bronte sisters or say Flaubert, and I was mesmerized but the simplicity. I don't just find room for those stories, I'll stop everything for them because I've connected with the natural storytelling. It's not "try hard."
That doesn't mean it's cozy or light -- on the contrary! It means I feel alive while I read versus needing to pause every five words to grab a dictionary or look for hidden meanings.
And if we're being honest here, it's the kind of writer I always strive to be.
Thanks for this post. You've really peeled back the layers on narrative trust and it's making me look deeper even more.
I know exactly what you mean. Writing that feels like it’s trying to impress rather than communicate can break the connection for me as well.
Simplicity—when it’s genuine—is often far more powerful. The Brontës are a great example of that: nothing feels ornamental, yet everything carries weight.
I think that’s where narrative trust quietly forms. The reader senses the writer isn’t performing or showing off, but simply trying to tell the truth of the story as clearly as possible.
Thank you for reading so closely and for the thoughtful reflection.