This week saw the second in a series of Critical Theory seminars that I am obliged to attend as part of my course. Despite my slight lack of enthusiasm for them, due to their part in my being late to dinner and potentially missing the best food, so far I have found them very interesting and amusing.
In preparation for this week’s seminar, we were asked to read the introduction to Terry Eagleton’s book, Literary Theory: An Introduction, which suggests that “We can begin, by raising the question: what is literature?” before even attempting to criticise literature. Once I got over the excitement at being given the incredibly meta task of reading an introduction of an introduction, I knuckled down and got thinking about what literature means.
In my mind, there are two forms of literature: Literature and literature.
The latter is simply defined by being the written word, regardless of whether it is fiction or non-fiction, published or un-published, “good” or “bad.” As long as it contains words (of any language) on some sort of page/screen/wall etc. then in my mind it is literature, as it can be read. And I think it is important to establish this idea in the minds of others, as to my mind ALL reading is good reading. Too many people shrug away the idea of becoming a reader, because it seems to stuffy/difficult/highbrow/posh/intellectual…when actually we are all readers. Whether you’ve devoured all the classics, like to read the occasional Glamour or simply glance over the ingredients on your cereal packet each morning, we are all readers. Which is good. Reading increases knowledge and also increases your desire for knowledge. And knowledge is power and knowledge means engaging with the outside world and giving a shit about what is out there.
The former, Literature, with a capital L, is what we as a society commonly believe to be literature. That is, a written work that is most likely fiction, although sometimes this loose definition also includes poetry, dramatic texts and non-fiction, in the forms of autobiography, biography and philosophy, and also a work that has, for some reason, been deemed to be worthy of reading. This could be because it is on a particular subject matter, comes from a particular place (most “Literature”, as you may have already noticed, is written by dead white men), but for the most part it usually contains a display of supposed mastery of the literary technique. Therefore, you can enjoy and learn from a book, without actually liking it.
However, while I do see the merits of Literature, I do think that it is an out-dated way of looking at the world of writing and can also be poisonous. It can encourage people to stick at reading books they don’t enjoy, which could potential stress them or put them off reading and it can also discourage others from reading altogether as they think that it’s “not for them.”
As part of our seminar, we were asked to list 13 examples of literature that we would give to a martian if he turned up right now and said “I have just arrived on earth, took a look in Waterstones and I am very confused about literature. What is literature?” Of course, most of the works and authors we chose were from a literary canon that our society impresses on us as some of the finest works of literature; Shakespeare, Simone de Beauvoir, Homer, The Bible…but this got me thinking. Surely we all have our own, personal literary canon? That is, a group of books that we have enjoyed, even loved and that have changed our lives. With this in mind, here are my 13 books that would be in my canon if I wanted to show a martian (or anyone willing to listen, really) what literature means to me:
A Little Love Song by Michelle Magorian.
This one is an obvious choice for me, as it is without a doubt the book that I have read the most times. I discovered it when I was far too young for it, fell in love with the story, even if I didn’t understand some of the more grown up parts. Despite not having particular literary flair, it is written competently and has a timeless story that draws me back to it again and again. And as it was something I picked up at a very young age, it feels as familiar as an old friend.
Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov
This was probably the first book to show me that you could at once disgust and entice me in a reading experience. The experience of reading it is so uncomfortable as you feel completely immersed in Humbert Humbert’s brain, which is not a very nice place to be, and yet it is written in such a gorgeously poetic style that you can’t help but be drawn in and what to know more.
Havisham by Carol Ann Duffy
The poem that taught me the meaning of the world ‘oxymoron’, renewed my love for writing poetry and sparked my interest to read more poetry. It also introduced me to a darker side of literature that I had not really explored before.
Oranges are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
A beautifully written, powerful story of the pains of growing up and how it feels to be cast out by your community for being different, made all the more heart-wrenching because of the beautifully metaphoric descriptions of the world of King Arthur and his lover, Lancelot. This sadness is further heightened by its belonging to the memoir genre.
London Assurance by Dion Bouccicault
A fine example of a Victorian farce. Not a particularly pleasant read, but reading it led to the most pleasurable acting experience I have ever had.
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
One of the first classics I read and one of the first examples of literature where its genre is so strikingly obvious. I adored the elements of gothic and loved being able to hate the protagonists for the first time.
This Be The Verse by Philip Larkin
One of the first poems I encountered with strong language, it also helped me to deal with a slightly tough situation that was going on at the time I read it. The poem shows us that usually people have the best intentions, even if it may not seem like it, and that you shouldn’t judge others’ imperfections, as they too have their own crosses to bear.
The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy
Such a simple poem and yet full of such meaning. I find its simplicity and obvious confusion so striking and feel it really encapsulates the character the poet wanted to portray.
Room by Emma Donoghue
Again, the simplicity is what makes this book. Donoghue tackles the difficulties of writing as a child head on and performs wonderfully. So interesting and so dark at the same time.
The History of English in 100 Words by David Crystal
The first non-fiction book I have read since horrible histories that really grabbed my attention and held my interest. It has encouraged me to seek out more non-fiction in my reading, as it is so informative, so well written and yet so readable!
Horrible Science Series by Nick Arnold
The series of books that really sparked my interest in reading. As a child, I was precocious and did not understand the importance of reading. This series changed my mind.
My Naughty Little Sister by Dorothy Edwards
A fantastic series of stories that I loved having read to me as a child. It still holds a very fond place in my heart, so much so that I bought them for my niece for Christmas. Fun, light and entertaining, yet still somewhat moralistic.
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling
Possibly the first book I decided wasn’t worth finishing. Thanks Jo, for pointing out to me that just because everyone else liked it, didn’t mean you had to and that it was ok not to force yourself to finish a book.
Gosh, I really thought I was going to struggle to make it to 13 and yet I could still go on and on for pages about the books that have influenced my life (I won’t, don’t worry.) However, to finish up this post, someone honorable mentions:
Why We Broke Up – Daniel Hadler, The Fault in Our Stars – John Green, A Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde, The Constant Princess – Philippa Gregory, Disgrace – J.M. Coetzee, Mates, Dates and…series – Cathy Hopkins, Dancing in my Nuddy Pants – Louise Rennison, Girl, Missing – Sophie Kinsella, Twilight – Stephanie Meyer, 50 Shades of Grey – E.L James, Pulling Princes – Tyne O’Connell, Love Lessons – Jacqueline Wilson, A Streetcat Named Bob – James Bowen and A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens.
Please note: Books were not necessarily chosen because A) they are any good, B) I would recommend them or C) I actually liked them.
After delighting in the fact that I attend one of the institutions mention on the title page of this work, I set about reading it.
