How to Read Nonfiction Like a Professor: A Smart, Irreverent Guide to Biography, History, Journalism, Blogs, and Everything in Between

An argument is the logical structure through which a writer advances a claim supported by evidence and reasoning. Foster emphasizes that most nonfiction beyond pure reportage is inherently argumentative, seeking to convince readers of a particular interpretation. Understanding an argument enables readers to evaluate credibility and detect manipulation.

“Bias” refers to the subtle or overt leanings that influence how information is presented and interpreted. Foster insists that all writers possess bias, whether their work acknowledges it or not, and that readers must identify it without assuming that bias equals falsehood. Recognizing bias is essential for balanced, critical reading.

Drawn from philosopher Stephen Toulmin’s The Uses of Argument, these three components form the backbone of persuasive reasoning. Claims are conclusions, grounds are supporting evidence, and warrants connect the two logically. Foster introduces this framework to teach readers how to dissect arguments and recognize flawed or incomplete reasoning.

“Clickbait” refers to sensationalized headlines designed to attract online engagement rather than convey accurate information. Foster critiques this practice as a symptom of the internet’s attention economy, wherein emotional manipulation often outweighs truth. He uses examples from contemporary news to illustrate how clickbait erodes public trust.

Critical literacy is the ability to interpret and evaluate texts beyond their surface meaning, identifying purpose, bias, and credibility. In Foster’s view, it is both a personal skill and a civic duty and is necessary for navigating misinformation. His book’s overarching goal is to cultivate this capacity in readers.

Borrowing from the concept of “dark matter,” Foster defines “dark information” as the misleading or false data that saturates digital spaces. It appears identical to legitimate knowledge, complicating efforts to distinguish truth from deception. The term underscores his warning that the internet’s structure inherently breeds misinformation.

“Defensive reading” is Foster’s term for a proactive, analytical approach that protects readers from manipulation without lapsing into cynicism. It involves questioning evidence, verifying sources, and identifying motive. He presents it as a habit of mind essential to modern information literacy.

Originally used to describe tabloid fabrications, “fake news” now encompasses deliberate misinformation presented as factual reporting. Foster tracks its evolution from print hoaxes to political propaganda, noting how the term itself became weaponized after 2016. He urges readers to retire the phrase in favor of specific critiques of accuracy and motive.

These forms of front matter introduce nonfiction works but serve distinct purposes. A foreword is written by someone other than the author, a preface is penned by the author, and a prologue often provides a narrative setup. Foster warns readers not to skip these sections, as they establish credibility, tone, and context.

A hook is the rhetorical or narrative device that captures readers’ attention at the start of a text. Foster defines it as the writer’s “advertisement for themselves” (9), securing goodwill and setting up the book’s essentials. Recognizing a hook helps readers understand a writer’s persuasive strategy.

Imaginative reading, introduced in the conclusion, is Foster’s call for readers to engage creatively and empathetically with nonfiction. Distinct from fantasy, it invites readers to become “cocreators of meaning” through active interpretation (301). This practice transforms literacy from skepticism into connection.

An introduction, whether labeled or implied, orients readers to a work’s central questions, methods, and purpose. Foster emphasizes that introductions are not optional reading; they are “up front” for a reason. Understanding them allows readers to anticipate structure and argument.

Foster categorizes nonfiction into a broad ecosystem of interrelated forms, each with its own conventions, aims, and reader expectations. These include journalism and reportage, which emphasize immediacy and factual precision; biography and memoir, which explore personal and historical lives through narrative; history and political analysis, which interpret events and systems through argument and evidence; and science writing, which translates specialized knowledge for a general audience. In addition, he highlights essays, opinion columns, and creative nonfiction: genres that blend reflection, persuasion, and storytelling. By surveying this diversity, Foster shows that nonfiction is as structurally varied as fiction, encompassing the pragmatic “how-to” text and the investigative exposé alike. Recognizing each form’s conventions, he argues, allows readers to adjust their expectations, understand purpose and bias, and engage more critically with a text.

The term “proof” encompasses the evidence that writers use to substantiate claims, forming the backbone of nonfiction credibility. Foster identifies five primary types of proof: personal experience, professional expertise, eyewitness testimony, statistics, and expert sources. Each offers a distinct form of authority: Personal experience provides immediacy and authenticity, professional expertise and expert sources establish specialized credibility, eyewitness testimony supplies firsthand perspective, and statistical data offers empirical support. Foster emphasizes that nonfiction’s reliability depends not only on the presence of proof but also on how transparently it is presented and contextualized. By analyzing the type, quality, and balance of evidence used, readers can separate valid reasoning from manipulation, recognizing when writers substitute anecdote for evidence or distort data to persuade.

“Reportage” refers to factual reporting that prioritizes accuracy and observation over argument. Foster treats it as the foundation of journalism, contrasting it with opinion or advocacy writing. Understanding reportage helps readers differentiate objective reporting from interpretive commentary.

The “silo effect” describes the isolation of individuals within self-reinforcing information bubbles. Foster likens these silos to doorless “prisons,” warning that they limit perspective and breed mistrust. Escaping them, he argues, is essential to informed citizenship.

Subjective nonfiction blends personal perspective with factual reporting, encompassing genres like memoir and new journalism. Foster highlights writers such as Hunter S. Thompson and Joan Didion to show how voice and style shape truth telling. The term reminds readers that nonfiction’s power often lies in its tension between objectivity and experience.

Derived from the 2004 Swift Boat Veterans for Truth campaign against John Kerry, “swiftboating” denotes political smear tactics disguised as legitimate reporting. Foster uses it as a case study in how misinformation manipulates perception. The term encapsulates his warning about emotional persuasion in modern media.

From the Greek for “goal” or “endpoint,” “telos” refers to a text’s ultimate purpose. Foster uses the term to show how structure shapes meaning: Rearranging events or perspectives entirely shifts a work’s telos. Recognizing telos helps readers see not only what a book argues but also what it aims to accomplish.

This phrase describes how the internet has erased traditional hierarchies of expertise, placing professional research and amateur opinion on equal footing. Foster views this as both democratizing and dangerous, as it enables misinformation to thrive. The concept reinforces his central concern with restoring informed discernment.