Tuesday, March 23, 2010

What Is Literature?

Literary critics concern themselves with many questions about literature.  They may ask the philosophical question concerning the nature of literature, and logically that question needs to precede all others, for how are they able to discuss literature unless they initially know about what they are arguing?  However, critics often have asked other questions about literature before they have determined its nature. 

A critic may ask what literature does, which is to define it functionally.  A critic may ask normative questions to determine the characteristics of good and bad literature.  A critic may employ analytical techniques to arrive at value judgments.  A critic may explore the psychological aspect of creativity.  A critic also may not ask any questions, simply seeking to increase a reader's appreciation of a literary work using a variety of methods.  Thus, a critic's activity may be ontological, functional, normative, descriptive, psychological and/or appreciative, and each activity is useful. 

The philosophical inquiry into the nature of literature--its distinguishable features, its essential characteristics--has been occurring in the West for well over two thousand years.  Each generation seems to answer the question in its own way, for literature is a complex phenomenon with each generation emphasizing different aspects of it.  However, there are familial resemblances among the answers, and it is not difficult to classify them.  Furthermore, some answers, regardless of their connections to a particular literature in a particular time, have been especially useful to later critics who have accepted them, reinterpreted them, or expanded them.  Perhaps the most influential of all critical discussions on the nature and value of literature has been Aristotle's Poetics, written in the fourth century before the common era.  Although it is fragmentary, Poetics is fundamental to any discussion of the question.  Aristotle's definition of literature emphasizes its unique qualities, delineates its function, and assesses its value in terms of that function. 

Possibly due to its fragmentary state, Poetics does not offer an absolute definition of literature.  The question of the nature of literature remains a perennial concern of literary critics.  What differentiates literature from other uses of language?  Early attempts to define literature focused on the features common to all members of the category; possession of those features determined whether a text was or was not literature.  Such attempts failed, however, because no aspect of form or content is common to all literary texts and only to them.  The definition of literature became expansive: the body of works in a specific language, country or age--twentieth-century literature, for example--the body of writings on a particular subject--scientific literature, for example--such printed matter as leaflets or circulars--campaign literature, for example--and the aggregate of musical compositions--Jay-Z's rap, for example.  Attempts to determine a specifically literary form or content, although seemingly plausible, resulted in such a broad definition of literature that it meant anything in writing. 

To solve the problem, we must realize that the basis of categorization is as often a matter of common properties as of common purposes.  For example, consider the following categories: food, clothing and shelter.  A food may not have anything structurally in common with another food, yet they have the same purpose.  Literature is similar in that it is a functional category.  All members have a common purpose.  The ordinary use of language is relative to its immediate context, and that context governs the purpose of the communicative act--to order someone to do something, for example.  One rarely recalls a communicative act in a specific context unless it is to study the act and/or context in retrospect.  The characteristic use of literary texts, however, includes recurrent attention without necessary regard to the contexts of their origins. 

To receive recurrent attention, a literary work must have excellent form or expression and communicate ideas of permanent or universal interest.  But excellence and permanence are relativistic, so we need to consider literature from another point of view.  According to Steven Lynn: 
     Literariness is not in fact a quality strictly within texts but is
     rather, to some degree, the product of a reader's attention.  We
     are used to calling some things literature, and texts that are
     formatted in certain ways on the page are expected to be
     literature--until they prove otherwise.  But "Literature" clearly
     can occur (like "Art") whenever a reader looks at a work as if it
     is Literature (or Art)--that is, with a certain kind of attentiveness,
     in other words.  If "Literature" is a quality in the reader as much
     as it is in the text, then perhaps the right question to ask is not
     "What is literature?" but rather "What kind of attention do
     people bring to literature?"  What do people do when they say
     "this is literature"?  Why do they want to do that?  What, in other
     words, have people said about what they have termed to be
     "literature"?*
A text is a product of the writer as much as a product of its reader.  If a text is literary, it has enduring value to multiple readers, and if the literary work has enduring value, it is complex.  Complexity, in such a sense, does not denote difficulty in comprehension; rather, it denotes that the work means different things to different people.  A literary work has a multiplicity of meanings.  The literary techniques a writer employs when he/she communicates his/her ideas and/or experiences are what make a literary work complex.  Those literary techniques allow multiple interpretations, and readers use different critical approaches to arrive at different interpretations.

It is important to mention that there have been critics who have judged the content of literary works in advance.  Such has been the way of Marxists, Freudians, New Critics (those who have searched for and have found ambiguity in every text), and political critics (those who have concerned themselves with gender, race and class).  For critics with such rigid approaches, the considerable diversity of literature has been an insurmountable problem.  Taking into account such diversity, to decide in advance the emphasis of every text is reductive and distortive.  It is not necessary to refute Marxism or psychoanalysis to reach such a conclusion; one only needs to remember that all literary texts are different.

Setting aside such restrictive approaches, one will find an enormous variety of form and content.  Literature is a collection of different texts written by different people with different temperaments and viewpoints.  Literary texts were written at different times, in different places, about different issues, and in different moods.  People write and  read for many fundamentally dissimilar reasons, reflecting the diversity of life.  It is ironic that diversity is a buzzword of political criticism when that criticism ignores the diversity of literature.

If we take from literature only the attitudes we bring to it, then why do we read literature?  Literature expands our lives via the presentation of different people, situations and problems, broadening and deepening our experiences.  The variations were created by writers to give readers an essence of life and an interpretation of it, taking us beyond anything that everyday life offers.

Few writers have the ability of Charles Dickens to create a world full of unique characters, but the remarkable thing is that although we had never met Scrooge before reading A Christmas Carol, we recognize the character instantly.  With all his unforgettable individuality, Scrooge is an essence of versions in the real world.  We never meet someone exactly like him, though we meet many that are similar, and we understand such individuals better because Dickens was able to discern certain human traits and to relate them clearly.  After we have experienced Scrooge, we are more easily able to recognize and understand similar versions in the real world. 

Writers who are read and reread by future generations capture the essentialness of human situations to an extent that profound changes in human life cannot obscure their works' meanings.  It is not accidental that quotations from Shakespeare's plays have become a part of everyday life.  If someone seems paralyzed by indecision, we say that he is "thinking too precisely on the event."  We say such because Shakespeare comments on central issues in human life with an accuracy that allows us to identify and understand them.  It is the precision of his thought and the expression of everyday experiences that keep Shakespeare's language influential hundreds of years after his death.  When we are aware of the way adherence to one critical approach simplifies and distorts things, we are able to understand Hamlet's dilemma.

More examples will emphasize, not counter, the primary point that literature is various and broadens our experiences by deepening our understanding of people, situations and problems, helping us to grasp their essential meanings.  Literature is a forum in which members of a society reflect on the many issues that arise in their lives.  Inevitably, the thoughts of those who offer the most insight into the most enduring issues receive the most attention.  The collective judgment as to what is important is the only limit on the breadth of the forum, which means that the diversity of literature--of theme, content and viewpoint--is fundamental to the continual function of the forum. 

A single critical approach to literature is too restrictive to deal with the diversity of literature.  To put the matter simply, when someone reduces literature to a single issue, her reasons for doing such and her results will have nothing to do with literature.  Because she had decided in advance the content of a particular text, she did not receive anything from it.  What she took away from the text was no more than what she had brought to it.  Such a critic gains no insight from the writer whose work has withstood the test of time, since she evaluated the text against her obsession. 

Furthermore, a single-issue critic rarely enjoys literature.  The word aesthetic is not in her vocabulary.  To the political critic, aesthetic enjoyment is for irresponsible people with no social conscience.  But aesthetic pleasure does not involve necessarily a self-absorbed withdrawal from serious matters.  It is an example of the way human nature supports activities that are beneficial.  We need to eat to survive, and nature ensures survival by making food enjoyable.  We need clothing and shelter for protection, and we find clothes and houses attractive.  We also need to exercise our imaginations, our capacities to think and feel.  Hence, we enjoy literature. 

If we did not enjoy exercising our imaginations, we would deteriorate intellectually, just as we would starve if we did not eat.  The increase in the pleasure we feel from any activity is not necessarily separate from the benefit the activity provides.  Therefore, we have gourmet food, well-designed clothes, and elegant homes.  In the same way, literary works that are aesthetically appealing intensify our pleasure by exercising our imaginations.  That is one reason such texts survive generation after generation.
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     *Steven Lynn, Literature: Reading and Writing with Critical Strategies (New York: Pearson Longman, 2004) 30-31.