Sophistry for sure

Posted by Justine | May 3, 2008 | 37 Comments

Recently, a dear friend confided in me.

“I didn’t like my book club’s book last month. I’m sure it was beautiful and masterful, but it was about abuse and sex and a horrible sad life. It didn’t matter that there was redemption. It was too awful to read. I must not be a very literary person, I guess.”

A lengthy conversation ensued, in which an unanswered question was left that I will now pose to you.

Literature is not scaled according to a quantifiable set of standards or qualities. It’s kind of like judging gymnastics at the Olympics. Some things are essential, some things are aesthetic — almost all of it is subjective.

That being said, does all literature need to be high-brow? Clearly not…just ask Danielle Steele’s checkbook. Is there value in such literature, though? If someone didn’t like Don Quixote, does that mean they merely didn’t understand it, or is there legitimate claim toward preferences?

My dear friend felt highly incompetent because she did not share the view of others that the book they read was literary and classic (and by some accounts it would be considered such). Isn’t just reading itself enough of an endeavor to sate the individual? Are we sometimes snobby about our preferences because we view certain literature or certain endeavors as somehow superior in intellect? Is there any real merit to that claim?

Because to be honest, I view an enormous disconnect between the real world and the world as we would like to view it. In the sound-bite world on the news, Harper Lee and Cervantes are all we’re reading. In the real world, Stephanie Meyer and James Patterson are millionaires. In the sound-byte world, we are all outraged that Grand Theft Auto 4 is being released, but in the real world, it is selling millions of copies. Are we all more primal than cerebral, more wishful than practical? Is there room for everyone? Do we really need to sneak our new copies of Dean Koontz under the pile of McCarmac and Dumas as we leave the bookstore?

Category: Daily Special

Comments

37 Responses to “Sophistry for sure”

cheryl
May 3rd, 2008 @ 10:56 am

I somewhat agree with your friend. However important it may be to know of the bad to appreciate the good, I think some authors roll around in the bad and leave themselves stinking with selfish justifications.

Why must people be seen as inferior for enjoying the clean and the fluff? I love myself a good piece of book candy, just as much as I enjoy wading through prose that makes me ponder and experience the uncomfortable. But I would never assume a person was of inferior intellect for refusing to wallow through words that create confusion to her own soul.

Wow, that was a tad wordy. In a nutshell, I would say, “to each their own.” And everyone really should respect that “own.”
Elizabeth
May 3rd, 2008 @ 3:18 pm

Do you know the book by Ian Falconer, Olivia? Her mother takes her to the museum and she sees a painting by Jackson Pollock, and says “I could do that!” Olivia’s commentary about art is brilliant because she sees the surface (splattered paint) but entirely misses the bigger picture, so to speak. Sometimes I feel incompetent because I know I’m not seeing the bigger picture in a literary piece.

Literature is how I got into graduate school in social work. In my essay I wrote that I came from an educated, middle class, white American home. What did I know of the world? Had I suffered? Very little. How could I possibly empathize with others because our experiences had been so different? I wrote that my ability to gain empathy came from reading writers from around the world. Sometimes their experiences were pleasant, oftentimes not.
Take the books by Khaled Hosseini. Definitely not pleasant. Do you come away with a greater understanding of people in that region of the world?
Is there a place for happy, fluffy books? Absolutely. Is there too much trash out there to be read? Absolutely. But if we really want to understand the world around us, if we really want to know how fortunate we are, especially as women, and want to be motivated towards greater compassion and charity, we need to read the uncomfortable stuff sometimes.
Nancy R.
May 3rd, 2008 @ 4:53 pm

Amen to that.
Nancy R.
May 3rd, 2008 @ 4:53 pm

And by that, I meant Elizabeth’s comment “But if we really want to understand the world around us, if we really want to know how fortunate we are, especially as women, and want to be motivated towards greater compassion and charity, we need to read the uncomfortable stuff sometimes.”
Justine
May 3rd, 2008 @ 5:47 pm

I have never seen the movie Schindler’s List. My father was Jewish before he converted, and my mother spent most of her childhood walking though Europe during the war trying to find food. I don’t feel I need to see the pain to understand the pain. I don’t need to immerse myself in it to know how real it was.

On the other hand, reading Left to Tell by Imaculee Ilibagiza was an amazing experience that broadened my understanding of what it means to forgive. There are places for both sides of this issue, I think.

There are also places, I think, for candy novels. Not everyone needs to be moved by Toni Morrison or Wallace Stegner to be a competent, thinking, capable adult.
Shelah
May 3rd, 2008 @ 9:35 pm

I appreciate the great works of literature, but reading for entertainment definitely has its place! Every third or fourth book has to be fluffy, otherwise I get too weighed down and feel like not reading at all.
Legacy
May 3rd, 2008 @ 9:51 pm

I studied French at the university, and once we got past the grammar and conversation, the only language classes offered were literature. I got so weary of the 18th and 19th century French novels with their constant fixation on illicit affairs, and I made the teacher mad by telling her so. I wasn’t objecting to the sex so much as I was to the monotony. Any one of those novels was probably a fine work of art, but taken as a group, they were tiresome.

Anyway, there are all kinds of legitimate and unexpected reasons for not getting all goosebumpy at what somebody else calls literature.
m&m
May 4th, 2008 @ 12:35 am

This makes me think of Elder Oaks’ talk on good, better, best where he said:

Of course it is good to view wholesome entertainment or to obtain interesting information. But not everything of that sort is worth the portion of our life we give to obtain it. Some things are better, and others are best. When the Lord told us to seek learning, He said, â€œSeek ye out of the best books words of wisdomâ€ (D&C 88:118; emphasis his).

The question remains, “What are the best books? Pres. Hinckley used to talk about the classics. I think this in many ways is likely like everything else…it’s a personal decision. But I like how that scripture talks about words of wisdom. Do we feel more wise, more able to apply divine counsel, more able to love after reading a book? I think each spirit might resonate differently with different material, too.

I can related, btw, to your friend. I didn’t like My Name is Asher Lev and I have always felt a sort of inferiority for not liking it, because, you know, many consider that a classic. It left me feeling rather empty and unfulfilled. And I didn’t really feel all the wiser for it. Call me crazy.
Sue
May 4th, 2008 @ 12:56 am

Elizabeth nailed it, I think.

It’s just like regular food. Eat nothing but junk food, you’re eventually gonna get fat. A well balanced diet is good for you.
Maralise
May 4th, 2008 @ 2:16 am

I think ‘great’ literature should be (and often is) classified by how well it explicates nuance. In my opinion, that’s what keeps people coming back, makes the work timeless, and provides fodder for various opinions about the work. And of course, not everyone needs to choose to read or like a book because of the sometimes questionable methods that the author uses in order to explicate that nuance.

However, that doesn’t mean the book isn’t ‘great.’ I think in the discovery of nuance in our literature, each other, and ourselves, we find room and reason to empathize. If novels presented only black and white stories, there would be no need to waste our time on them. We would already know the answers, the plot, the methods, the characters. If novels could be simplified into morality stories, then we wouldn’t need to read novels at all, oral tradition could pass them down as or more effectively.

However, I don’t think that’s why we read and love novels. I think we love them because we love learning the details of others’ and our lives. I think in discovering nuance, we discover part of the beauty of being human.

I have an opinion on escapist or candy literature as well (that being that I think it serves a purpose and is worth a part of our time), however my comment is already long enough.

And M&M: I actually liked the second Asher Lev book better than the first. Might be worth a try!
AzÃºcar
May 4th, 2008 @ 9:27 pm

I guess I don’t understand why someone would think that their feelings about a particular book would form some sort of value statement about themselves. Own that you didn’t like a book; it doesn’t make you any less and it says nothing about the piece of literature other than you didn’t like it.

Books are subjective. I hated Girl with a Pearl Earring, even though it seemed like everyone in the known universe loved that book. Does that mean that Girl is any less of a book? No. That I didn’t like the book has absolutely no meaning on the worth of the book to someone else.

Since books are subjective, so is their value.
Deborah
May 4th, 2008 @ 9:40 pm

“Not everyone needs to be moved by Toni Morrison or Wallace Stegner to be a competent, thinking, capable adult.”

Granted.

But identifying “good literature” isn’t simply subjective — at least not in the way I’ve seen people scoff at classics as simply “yeah, who says?” When I began this school year, one of my juniors asked that classic question: “C’mon — do author’s really *mean* to put in symbolism (etc) or is that just something you English teachers read into to it to torture us.” Last week, after finishing Morrison’s *Bluest Eye,* this same girl verbalized (unbidden) that she “got it” — that Morrison, at least, clearly knew what she was doing. That she was “brilliant.” Part of this had to do with my student’s maturation — she has a language of literary terms that she didn’t have in September and could see the brushstokes. A careful reading of Morrison (to use one author’s example) reveals a master, and I so think it’s good to acknowledge such gifts even if they do not speak to us. Morrison measures her words like sugar, alternating narrative perspective to either hold us back or implicate us in the tragedy (the book ends with three pages of first person plural). She constructs brilliant metaphors, creates a narrative structure in the first four pages that becomes a puzzle for the reader to assemble.

I may not be moved by Michalangelo’s David, but I would be petulant not to recognize his prodigious talent, not to marvel at what he could do with the raw material. I really didn’t “like” Roth’s widely acclaimed American Pastoral — he shows us Job without without redemption — but I can read certain passages and say, This man knows words the way physicists know equations. (Ironicaly, one of my favorite lines in all of literature is in this book — one I’ve since memorized for it’s emotional truth).

And when good writing and personal connection intersect — that’s just a gift, like finding that painting that causes tears to spring to your eyes.

All that said, I give most books 30 pages — if they don’t speak to me or teach me or challenge me or delight me — I move on. Too many good books in the world to feel guilty about not connecting with one.
Deborah
May 4th, 2008 @ 9:45 pm

Yeah, and it certainly speeks whell of my english abilitys that I had, like, 10 typoos in that commment.
Maralise
May 5th, 2008 @ 1:38 am

Deborah–amen. I think sometimes we say things like “it’s subjective” as a way to cement our own dislikes and likes (and release us from having to explore the work further). I’m a fan of re-evaluating our ‘likes’ and ‘dislikes’ from time to time and trying to find something else in the work that might be valuable/interesting/insightful. I think there is a language in which to talk about ‘great’ pieces of literature even when we didn’t like them. And I think we should seek to learn that language.
Dalene
May 5th, 2008 @ 9:28 am

I’m loving this discussion. I don’t have any more to add except to say how much I love Morrison and Stegner and My Name is Asher Lev (however did I miss the second book?). And I find it interesting how different works speak to me or move me in different ways at different times of my life. Great literature, however subjective “great” may be, never gets old.
Maralise
May 5th, 2008 @ 10:21 am

It’s called ‘The Gift of Asher Lev. Potok wrote it almost 20 years after the first one and it presents an interesting and wise perspective on religious community and the value of artistic expression within and without the community. I highly recommend it.
Justine
May 5th, 2008 @ 10:53 am

I love Stegner so much, but Henry James? By all counts, he’s a classic writer, but I can’t get through some of his works.
Thomas Hardy is another example. I love his work, but really can only read it in small measure because it’s just so sad and tragic — every last novel…

I think that’s where there’s room for everyone at this table. I agree with you Deborah that there are benchmarks and accepted standards by which we judge literature, but that doesn’t necessarily mean every piece will speak to me, or be something I want to read.

And I really think that there is an honorable place in the world for JK Rowling and vampire romances. It gets people to read. I think that holds value alone.
m&m
May 5th, 2008 @ 2:09 pm

Thanks for the Asher Lev sequel recommendation. I might just give it a try.

And I really think that there is an honorable place in the world for JK Rowling and vampire romances. It gets people to read. I think that holds value alone.

WELL SAID.
Melissa
May 5th, 2008 @ 2:26 pm

Deborah, I may need a copy of your syllabus for The Bluest Eye. I read it a few years ago and couldn’t figure out what all of the fuss was about. But I am thinking that it must be a book that takes a closer read to find the layers of meaning.

Great topic.
Deborah
May 5th, 2008 @ 2:41 pm

Well, I think JK Rowling is bloody brilliant — anyone with such an *insanely* well-developed imagination who can likewise can likewise manage to weave in every single solitary archetype from Greek mythology and the hero’s journey deserves our collective admiration.

I’m a little tepid about “anything that gets them to read” — because I’ve seen some social/intellectual trouble caused by really trashy chick-lit in the middle school — vacuous books marketed to be devoured (ever seen a seventh grade purposefully groom her speech to match Gossip Girl?). I believe in the cultural vitality of rich literature, and so I’m going to take students through books they may not read on their own (while also encouraging independent reading just for fun). And I think Book Clubs can play this role for adults — not that every book club book needs to be an old classic or a modern critically-acclaimed book — but something of our collective humanity is stored in Cather, in Faulkner, in Shakespeare, in Walker. And in some of the new bright lights who have come along to challenge us. If we only read what’s “easy” — in terms of prose or theme — I think we lose something.

I’m probably coming across as a book snob, but I’ve watched books *do things* in my classroom in the last ten years, seen girls begin to change the way they perceive themselves, seen conversations begin that needed to happen, seen students find role models. And that vampire book managed to pull one of my students away from the Clique series and served as a . . . “gateway drug” . . . to better and better literature.
Deborah
May 5th, 2008 @ 2:43 pm

Melissa — I don’t have a syllabus for that book (all class discussion and writing exercises) but I could send you a list of discussion topics if you send me an e-mail
Dalene
May 5th, 2008 @ 3:33 pm

Deborah I agree with you about Rowling. I consumed Nancy Drew mysteries when I was a child but looking at them as an adult I see how formulaic they are and the writing is just sad. As an adult I consumed Harry Potter and I enjoyed much more than just the compelling story. I love an all out war of good-vs. evil. I also relished certain phrases and vocabulary and I was thrilled to see first and second graders reading them clear through.

This discussion is making me want to go back to school and get that English major all over again (only not on the back row and certainly not half asleep this time).
Elizabeth
May 5th, 2008 @ 4:33 pm

Dalene, I had the experience of my 7 year old reading all the Lemony Snicket books, and I thought maybe they were too dark. So I directed her back to ‘nicer’ topics, and she went back to Encyclopedia Brown, the American Girl series, etc.
I just gave her Gossamer, by Lois Lowry, and she loved it. She loved it, even though it was sad, because she had to figure out what the author was trying to tell her. It was the complete opposite of “formulaic”.
Justine
May 5th, 2008 @ 5:43 pm

Deborah, I do not think you are a book snob! And there certainly is vacuous literature that is damaging and hurtful to our souls. But if my friend thinks the greatest thing since sliced toast is The Ladies Detective Club Series, I can’t deny her that right to love it.

I think on the whole, as we talk about literary writing versus mass marketed writing, there’s room for a lot of variance. There are trashy books I would never let my kids read, and there are great literary works that I wouldn’t let my kids read — not yet anyway.

I loved the Harry Potter series, but know many who thought they weren’t very “literary”. I really liked Dan Brown’s book, but it’s not anywhere near a literary wonder. I mostly read classical writing, but just don’t want to have to feel guilty for picking up something “fun and easy” once in a while, either. That’s all I was trying to convey, I guess.
m&m
May 5th, 2008 @ 6:09 pm

And I really think that there is an honorable place in the world for JK Rowling and vampire romances. It gets people to read. I think that holds value alone.

WELL SAID.

And I reacted as I did because my son is a reader because of Harry Potter. Rowling had a huge effect on my kids’ love of reading, and that makes me happy.

But I, too, agree with what Deborah said. I still think ‘best books’ is the model for all of us.
Laura H. Craner
May 5th, 2008 @ 10:13 pm

For me, the most important thing about reading is connections. I know the experience of literature is subjective but I think a hallmark of ALL good literature is that it fosters connection making. Those connections can be made between the reader and the text, the writer and the text, the reader and the writer, within the reader alone, or among a group of readers. Good literature-whether high or low brow–encourages people to connect characters, symbols, ideas, and themselves. There are so many, many different kinds of readers in this world that we need many, many different kinds of books. The connections are what make reading magical.
Sue
May 5th, 2008 @ 10:42 pm

Well, as long as we’re making confessions – I HATED Crossing to Safety and have not wanted to read anything else by Stegner as a result. The characters are completely pretentious and unlikeable. I thought it was overwrought and predictable. GACK. It was a very unpopular book club choice – not because of anything objectionable, but because nobody enjoyed the book.

I know that has NOTHING to do with the subject at hand, but I just had to get that off my chest. As you were.
Wendy
May 6th, 2008 @ 8:16 am

I’m really late in this, and am only thinking of little snippets of various comments. I like to read some of the meatier stuff, like “Left to Tell,” and don’t think I have to read trash to get good substance. I saw Schindler’s List as a single woman and was far more “traumatized” by the sex scene than I was moved by the Holocaust information, which seemed to be less information than I had gotten from PBS and school when I was younger. I have always regretted seeing it. I am picky with what I read that way, and don’t see myself changing there.

I can picture myself having the exact conversation Justine started her essay with. There are some things I can’t stomach (heard it all in my office at work, thankyouverymuch), and I choose to limit what I read.

I think of myself as not very literary when I am discussing a book with English majors or other well-read people. I can’t say what draws me into a book, and I can’t analyze them or find the words to describe them like the English majors in my book club.

Thank you Azucar for saying our likes and dislikes don’t mean much about us or the books we like or don’t like. I confess I have felt “less than” when I am around my more literary friends and relatives. My recent bookclub recommendation was met with “the author should’ve edited out the cheesiness.” I thought, “What cheese?” I LOVED the book. Am I less literary because I missed it? I guessed so.

Re: my book tastes, I couldn’t finish Crossing to Safety–ho hum. I devoured Portrait of a Lady (need to try more of James), I couldn’t get through Sense and Sensibility–such an annoying beginning, I loved Voltaire’s Candide, Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine, and Card’s Enders series.

I find myself at a loss for knowing how to find a book I’d enjoy, so I lean towards the classics and take a chance on the modern stuff when it comes with a really good recommendation.
Dalene
May 6th, 2008 @ 9:00 am

I completely respect anyone who loathes Crossing to Safety. But I have to say I loved it. Maybe because I know and love at least a few people who are pretentious and unlikable. Maybe because I’m insanely jealous of a successful writer who gets to live in Italy for a year and vacation on a lake-front cabin where someone else does the cooking. Maybe because I like to ponder the thought of staying in a relationship that is difficult and painful at times. (Maybe they’re not admirable–maybe they’re just codependent?) Maybe because I am so flawed it didn’t bother me that the characters were flawed. I don’t know. But I loved it the first time I read it and I loved it again when I just finished it last week.

Here’s my confession: I don’t love Jane Austen. (Except when someone really hot is cast as Mr. Darcy in a film version.)

I loved Dandelion Wine, too. It’s probably time for a reread of that one.

Oh this is fun. Now I want to write a “True Confessions” post about literary classics we hated and non classics we secretly loved. It’s kind of fun to come out of the closet about that!
Deborah
May 6th, 2008 @ 5:30 pm

Dalene: I think that’s your next post. That’s where I’ll admit I’ve never read Moby Dick — but have successfully pretended more than once. Oh, Ishmael!
Justine
May 6th, 2008 @ 5:52 pm

I forced my way through Moby Dick two years ago. It’s such a man book. Really. All that blubber and knives and whaling and revenge and such. Man man man man man man man book!
Sue
May 6th, 2008 @ 10:16 pm

DALENE! You don’t love Jane Austen?!!! What in the – how is that even possible? Her stuff is – it DEMANDS that you love it.

HERESY.

:>
Sue
May 6th, 2008 @ 10:17 pm

P.S. You MUST write that post.
Dalene
May 6th, 2008 @ 10:18 pm

Sue, still friends? And yes, this is definitely my next post. Save your truest confessions for me–I can’t wait (but I have to, it’s not my turn)!
Rachel
May 7th, 2008 @ 2:53 pm

Jane Austen is the soap opera/romance novel writer of her day. Her writing is one of the big reasons I learned to question authority about what the canon of classic “literature” really is. You can make up your own mind! Sometimes the classics are just pop culture trash that lasted longer than most. Fight the power! Resist others who try to force their opinion on the rest of the world.
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