Defences of Poetry - 2/23/2002

What sparks this entry was a rather long talk I had with a former student about Literature and the way its often perceived. An added impetus for this monologue is the fact that many of us are very literal, rather than literary.

Anyway, we were talking about how difficult it is to justify the worth and value of literature. The suggestion was that many people who have never studied Literature are convinced that Literature is an irrelevant subject that does not lead an individual very far. Based on that, we thought about why people think so and what does attract us to Literature.

ONE:
I have often found it interesting that many professions do not need to justify themselves. Doctors are needed because people get sick, Lawyers are needed because people get divorced, Engineers are needed because buildings and roads, computers and cars need to be built, Bankers are needed because money exists. And the list runs on. The justification is often economic: these professions are needed otherwise the economy just would not no longer operate smoothly. Yet Literature practitioners (be they teachers, writers, academics or critics) constantly justify their existence. Perhaps it is the particular mode of existence that is justified but even at a very elementary level, ie at Secondary school, the relevance of the subject comes under scrutiny. In comparison to many other functions however, literature deals with more immediate and pressing concerns, language, relationships, emotions, and ideas. Many professions on the other hand deal with artificially constructed systems: the legal system, the financial system, accounting systems. Why is it then that the pressing and the immediate, that which we participate intensely in comes under close scrutiny, while the plainly constructed is accepted as a way of life? Perhaps it is that very fact that ideas, relationships, emotions and language are so commonly discussed without the reference of specialised knowledge that caused Literature to be considered irrelevant. It is not that we are alienated from the concerns of Literature that causes Literature to appear irrelevant. It is the very opposite: we are so engaged with the currency of Literature that when we see it ossified on a page, or explained as analysis, we find that representation distant. And so the irrelevance of Literature is not so much a product of what Literature is about but really is due to the way we Literature is practised.

TWO:
Language is the heart of literary thought. And we fear the unmasking of Language. Fear in the sense that Literature often de-stablises assumptions about language. Literature has to continually justify itself is because its claims that language can be thought about, that language is so fluid and communication is so unstable, that language can so powerfully manipulate, are often so distressing in their conclusions that we rather not have to deal with them. To some, this ability to see through the operations of language may be an enriching or even thrilling process. Yet to a vast majority the abyss that this act provokes causes them to shirk away. The limits set by rule bound systems assure us of some end. But language systems are so dislocated from hard and fast rules that Literature's attempt to think about language is perhaps an extremely mind-boggling enterprise. The claim of the literary practitioner that the manipulative nature of language can be charted is often a claim that is scorned upon. Why is this so? I think we believe very much in our ability to be free from the influences of language.

THREE:
The range and complexity of what actually constitutes Literature is a difficult definition. Complexity has never been used as an excuse to say why a body of knowledge is unapproachable. The finer details of chemical engineering and the mind-boggling array of molecular principles never dissuades individuals from the subject. What is however the case with Literature is it's seeming complication of the simple. For example, after an elaborate explanation by the teacher on the strained relationship between Cassius and Brutus, a sleepy looking face peers up and drawls, " So you're just saying that they don't like each other?" Why does Literature seem to make difficult that which could otherwise be so simply expressed? Does Literature indeed build airy theoretical castles that are merely fabrications of the "heat oppressed" mind? Even novels expound reality in a manner that takes so much time to say so little. The issue then is our perspective on nuance and detail. The big picture is fine for certain modes of living but surely humanity consists of the slow motion replays and the re-runs as well? What distinguishes detail from superfluidity is its discovery. The superfluous exists on the surface, proclaiming its irrelevance and disconnectedness but nuance and details lie embedded, forming part of essence yet not proclaiming it so. And so the mining for nuance enriches not only the analysis of a book, but the analyser's ability to become sensitive to these unspoken currents that often drive desire and action.