Why People Read (or Struggle to Read) Literature (Part 2)

Although I agree with Professor Davis, that reading great literature makes for a better life, the idea that we can make better decisions by reading great literature seems a bit absurd.

Great literature is not an expert system, and exposure to great works does not automatically improve our decision-making. For instance, reading Romeo and Juliet in ninth grade did not have any discernible impact on who, or how, I dated; nor did repeated exposure to Hamlet cause me to reconsider my position on romance with royalty. (Okay, I'll 'fess up - I didn't know any princes then, so Hamlet's cruel rejection of Ophelia meant little to me). When I discovered D.H. Lawrence, I was entranced by the idea that sexual intercourse could include a profound sacred element; I seriously doubt that Professor Davis would consider D.H. Lawrence a positive influence on my life.

I often used literature to justify choices which would later seem irrational, regrettable, or hopelessly romantic. If you used my life as an example, you would probably conclude that reading good literature to aid in decision-making is a bad idea. Nevertheless, reading has had a positive impact upon me.

Upon mature reflection, I realize that those books and poems changed me, no matter what choices I made, and whether or not I remembered what I had read. James Collins explains this phenomenon as follows:

One answer is that we read for the aesthetic and literary pleasure we experience while reading. The pleasure — or intended pleasure — of novels is obvious, but it is no less true that we read nonfiction for the immediate satisfaction it provides. The acquisition of knowledge, while you are acquiring it, can be intensely engrossing and stimulating, and a well-constructed argument is a beautiful thing. But that kind of pleasure is transient. When we read a serious book, we want to learn something, we want it to change us, and it hardly seems possible for that to happen if its fugitive content passes through us like light through glass.

...we have been formed by an accretion of experiences, only a small number of which we can readily recall. You may remember the specifics of only a few conversations with your best friend, but you would never ask if talking to him or her was a waste of time. As for the arts, I can remember in detail only a tiny fraction of the music I have listened to, or the movies I have watched, or the paintings I have looked at, but it would be absurd to claim that experiencing those works had no influence on me. The same could be said of reading.

Fortunately for my adolescent self, reading helped me realize that there was a larger universe outside my own relentless self-absorption. Others, in reading, have also experienced a gloriously expanded involvement with something greater than themselves:

“It’s that excitement of trying to discover that unknown world,” said Azar Nafisi, the author of “Reading Lolita in Tehran,” the best-selling memoir about a book group she led in Iran (Rich).

Perhaps the greatest benefit of reading is that it gives us a perspective on the human condition that life alone cannot offer. Books free us of the constraints of time, place, culture, race, and gender to offer us experiences we otherwise never would have. The writer distills universal human experience into a single moment of sublime awareness for a character (Zahran).

Reading great literature is truly and deeply transformative.

No matter how independent or unique we consider ourselves, the truth is that we become like the people we spend time with. I once heard it said that who you will be in five years depends largely on two factors: (1) the books you read and (2) the people you spend time with....

If who you are is not who you hope to become, the surest remedy is improving the quality of the books you read and the people you spend time with (Partow 128).

Henry David Thoreau said that he did not wish to come to the end of his life and discover that he had not truly lived. As a result, he chose to live deliberately and read widely.

What better way is there to live?

There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by. A life of good days lived in the senses is not enough. The life of sensation is the life of greed; it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less; time is ample and its passage sweet. Who would call a day spent reading a good day? But a life spent reading -- that is a good life (Dillard 32,33).

Today's Links

Interview with Annie Dillard

The Annie Dillard Log

Bibliography

Collins, James. "The Plot Escapes Me." New York Times 17 Sept. 2010, Sunday Book Review sec. Web. 16 Nov. 2010. <http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/19/books/review/Collins-t.html?_r=1>.

Dillard, Annie. The Writing Life. New York: HarperCollins, 1990. Print.

Partow, Donna. Walking in Total God-Confidence. Minneapolis, MN: Bethany House, 1999.

Rich, Motoko. "A Good Mystery: Why We Read." New York Times. 25 Nov. 2007. Web. 12 Nov. 2010. <http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/25/weekinreview/25rich.html>.

Zahran, Mary. "Why Read." Big Read Blog. National Endowment for the Arts, 18 May 2010. Web. 16 Nov. 2010. <http://www.arts.gov/bigreadblog/?p=1940>.