Why You Deserve Great Literature

I interrupt my abecedarian literary journey to bring you this important message.

Every single book in the world is about you.

There's a mistake that many people make about the books recognized as literary masterpieces, a mistake that English majors likely make more than anyone else. They think that reading a work of literature is about finding the meaning that the author put behind the words. You can probably reel off a list of examples from your high school reading list: the meaning of Heart of Darkness is that colonialism is the true evil of Africa, the meaning of All Quiet on the Western Front is that war is a hell that destroys innocent lives, the meaning of Jane Eyre is that the outcomes of a moral life transcend appearance and social class.

These are excellent conclusions. Having read all three, I can say with near certainty that Joseph Conrad, Erich Remarque, and Charlotte Brontë were trying to convey these messages in their writing. I don't mind the general understanding that these particular meanings apply to these particular books. What troubles me, what makes me afraid that you will stop reading great literature once it isn't for a grade, is the idea that people who find other meanings are not reading the books correctly.

There is no wrong way to read a book. If you read Animal Farm and thought it put forth a wonderful message about how pigs might revolt someday if we keep raising them for food, then you are not wrong. It's certainly not what George Orwell was thinking, or what he wanted readers to think. But it's what you think, and the significance of a book comes from its accumulation of insights by people like you. Too often, potential readers are discouraged from great literature because they have been told otherwise. They don't see themselves as worthy or capable of understanding a book that challenges scholars and professors.

"But what about the author's purpose?" you might ask. "Didn't the teachers tell us a thousand times that it was absolutely critical to our book reports, not to mention our ultimate survival on the planet, that we find the author's purpose?" Sure, but you can do that with the Internet in less than a minute and not even have to open the book. You can't Google your own insight, and it's every bit as worthy.

For example: L. Frank Baum wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as a fantastical tale for children in which the lines of good and evil are clearly drawn. (Unless it was really an allegory about populism, but that's opening up a whole other can of worms.) Gregory Maguire saw the story of a badly misunderstood woman within Baum's book, and four best-selling novels and a hit musical later, Elphaba is more popular than Dorothy. Not many people can read the original now without a twinge of sympathy for the so-named Wicked Witch.

I hope that even after you've been handed your last diploma, you'll read literature that seems scary or intimidating or confusing. I hope you'll find yourself in it, just like you do in the lyrics of your favorite song, and realize that it contains the number of meanings it contains is infinite.

Thank you for your patience. The original purpose of this blog will resume tomorrow with Part II, Chapters 1-3 of Anna Karenina.