On the charm of literature

Fundamentally, literature is a means of introspection, an intuitive method in which human psychology over the span of millennia can be preserved, retrieved and then deposited on the lap of a new unsuspecting reader. It is an anthology that every author who wanted to share his or her two cents contributes to; their knowledge is made relatable. We can see literature (and there are a vast number of examples) as some vessel to impart philosophy, allow for the progress of civilization, provide a unified narrative and a model for ethical conduct, and to create a union between the past and present. Many other commendable functions of literature exist as well. We see that authors bring into the light the ensuing battle between the inexorable human instincts and the societal structures we’ve created for ourselves, beautifully detailing the virtues of both in, the best of which are written in subtle, tactful yet penetrating manner. There’s a quote by Adam Smith, and it dictates that “Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse.” I think that similarly, literature never lays its finger on its pulse – good literature aspires for its readers to not be actively aware of the effects it has on us until it is just too late. I feel that literature is about bringing forth the paradoxes of life while also defamiliarizing us (ridding us of that godforsaken ennui) with what we see to be the encrustations of the mundane in order to reinvent the world as something “new” again – or at least so, reinvigorated in our eyes.

Literature is then, a method to achieve awareness of our lives, to see into the heart of things, and to realize that most of the time, these things we feel are not that unique although revisions are made tailoring the common human experience to particular time periods – essentially, all small alterations. Good literature is the sort that does not bombard you actively with morals so that you are keenly aware of it; it is not didactic, but is passively absorbed the reader through the narrative which is exactly what allegories and other literary techniques do. Though, being aware of literature’s own limitations is also a good thing to keep in mind. Borges puts it well in his short story, The Aleph in the lines: “What my eyes saw was simultaneous: what I shall transcribe is successive, because language is successive.” It’s these little morsels of wisdom and truth, about writing and more importantly, about living that are contained within every piece of good literature. We soon realize that we are not the first people to be confused or sickened at human behavior or notice the paradoxical patterns in which we behave. One of my favorite quotes by J.D. Salinger follows appropriately with “Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them — if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.” I think it’s this extension of the invitation to take part in a discourse about human nature that makes literature so worthwhile.

Sue majors in Neuroscience & English and tends to lurk in bookstores.