Nathan Thrall: The Art of Immersing Readers in Nonfiction Writing
Nathan Thrall: The Art of Immersing Readers in Nonfiction Writing
By Tim Brinkhof | Published: 2025-01-28 15:09:00 | Source: High Culture – Big Think
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“During Q&A sessions, readers will sometimes refer to the novel as a novel, which I should point out is strictly non-fiction,” journalist and author Nathan Thrall tells Big Think. Thrall points out that he won the Pulitzer Prize book, A day in the life of Abdel Salama: Anatomy of the Jerusalem tragedy (2023) tells the story of a horrific car accident in Jerusalem that claimed the lives of six Palestinian children, including Abed Milad’s five-year-old son.
That many readers make mistakes A day in the life Because fiction is a testament to Thrall’s skills as a writer, his ability to describe complex events and identify with his themes. However, this kind of confusion also raises important questions about the craft and ethics of nonfiction writing. What distinguishes fiction from realism, and literary realism from ordinary journalism? How can you produce an upside-down article without distorting the facts, which may not always lend themselves to an easily digestible narrative? Is it okay for non-fiction writers to take creative liberties, and if so, when?
Thrall’s ideas aren’t just for aspiring Pulitzer Prize winners, but knowing how to communicate clearly and honestly is useful in any career, let alone our personal lives. Studying well-researched and carefully vetted nonfiction can help us navigate a (social) media landscape full of opinions and political propaganda disguised as actual, unbiased news.
Shaping the nonfiction experience
Common advice given to both imagination and Nonfiction writers should not overwhelm the reader with details, but rather present scenes, characters, and ideas piece by piece in the service of clarity. to some extent, A day in the life He throws this commandment out the window when Thrall overwhelms the reader with explanation during the book’s introduction. He does this not only by moving through different locations within Jerusalem and the West Bank in mere paragraphs, but also by jumping back and forth in time, moving between Abed as he makes his way toward the accident site and flashbacks that establish his relationship with his son.
While a news reporter might choose to tell the story as it unfolds, Thrall manipulates narrative structure to grip the reader and—most importantly—convey Abed’s confusion and uncertainty. “My goal was to immerse the reader in this world,” Thrall explains, “a chaotic and desperate place: a gated ghetto within the Israeli capital surrounded by high-rise buildings. I wanted to convey the stark juxtaposition of the environment and the constant bustle.”
Sharply innovative structure It contrasts with Thrall’s simple, streamlined style, inspired by writers such as John Hersey and George Orwell, the latter of whom became famous. Argue That flowery and convoluted language obscures and distracts from the objective reality that a nonfiction book is supposed to represent.
“Writing about Israel and Palestine is particularly challenging because it is so complex,” says Thrall. “Even experts struggle to fully understand what is happening there, and knowledge of the topic varies from reader to reader. Some may not be able to locate these countries on a map, while others are deeply familiar with their history and politics. I wanted to make the topic accessible to everyone without oversimplifying it.”
With Orwell in mind, Thrall’s creative liberties are less about substance—that is, the information presented—and more about form, or the way the information is presented to the reader. “One example involves video recording the immediate aftermath of an accident,” he explains. “The book is written primarily in the past tense. However, I have described this video in the present tense because that is how I experienced it myself, and I think it makes the scene more vivid while at the same time staying true to the facts.”
“Then there is the structure of the book,” he continues. “The narrative backbone is the tragic bus accident. Characters move in and out of chronology, which could overwhelm readers if you told everything in a linear fashion. To address this, I chose to focus on the most intense and important moments for each character and stay with them for a sustained period before moving on. The big challenge here was balancing the chronology of the accident with the characters’ backstories. If one character’s backstory is tied to the Second Intifada and another to the First Intifada (two Palestinian uprisings against… Occupation is more than a decade apart), I needed to structure the flashbacks so they flowed logically, and these decisions shaped not only the narrative, but also the characters who were included.
However, the creative liberties Thrall took were preceded by extensive research, which saw him contact as many people connected to the accident as possible, from the bus driver to bystanders, neighbours, paramedics and doctors. He also examined court and police records, including video and audio recordings he obtained either from law enforcement or from attorneys, if law enforcement refused to cooperate.
The only condition for realism
When asked what distinguishes fiction from nonfiction, Thrall points to a quote from author Richard Flanagan: “He said, ‘Labels are for jam jars,’ and I agree. Good writing is good writing, whether fiction or nonfiction.” Thrall insists that this distinction has nothing to do with form or style. Any literary device available to fiction writers—be it a simile, metaphor, foreshadowing, or internal monologue—should be available to nonfiction writers, provided they use it well. “The only requirement for nonfiction is that it be true. Beyond that, the order of storytelling, perspective, focus, and lens are all open to experimentation. Nothing can be invented unless you explicitly tell the reader that you are inventing.”
Some argue that nonfiction writers, like journalists, should maintain a degree of separation between themselves and their subject. This ensures that the writer remains uninvolved and, therefore, unbiased, the argument goes. While this approach is not without its merits, Thrall, who has lived and worked in Jerusalem for several years, opposes it—pointing out that just as detachment does not guarantee objectivity, personal engagement does not inherently lead to bias.
“Personally, I am fully in favor of in-person participation,” he says. “From the beginning of this project, my goal has been to write something that can make people cry, which – for me – means that I have to cry while I write it. Empathy is essential to absorbing and conveying a story. All of my writing is emotional in some way. Even my most analytical work, editorials, and historical pieces are driven by emotion, often anger. A day in the life Covers a wider range of emotions. “Not just anger, but also sadness, grief, and jealousy.”
Unlike traditional journalism, which is (in theory) exclusively concerned with reported facts, nonfiction also seeks to capture something that can be loosely described as emotional truth: the way external facts or realities affect people mentally and emotionally.
“They’re very different,” Thrall says of the two. “You can gather information and check it, and still not understand what happened or why someone did something. I don’t feel ready to write until I have that understanding, and I tend to interview my interviewees frequently until I can fully get their perspective. If writing, ultimately, is about putting yourself and the reader in someone else’s shoes, then you need to understand what that person is thinking and feeling.”
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