Literature’s
Near Demise is Everybody’s Loss
Published in Marietta (GA) Daily Journal, 1/28/18
Those
who think they don’t like literature should think again. For instance, show me your favorite song and
I’ll show you your favorite poem. Or if
you don’t like songs, you probably like letters, instruction manuals, the Declaration
of Independence, or magazines.
Why
the disdain for literature held by so many Americans? Perhaps it’s because the first Americans were
a frontier people. When the Jamestown
settlers hit the coast in 1607, they didn’t form a book club, circle up, and
read. They cut down trees, built cabins,
and raised crops. We should be grateful,
though, that William Bradford of Plymouth Colony began recording what colonial
America was like.
If
ancient Greece was Man Thinking, ancient Rome was Man Doing. The first Americans were, culturally, both
Greek and Roman. The American colonists
bequeathed us not only a Roman ruggedness and a distinct work ethic, but also a
Greek bent for writing things down and preserving them.
No,
we don’t dislike literature. We simply
dislike some of the forms literature takes. Maybe the reason so many claim to dislike
literature is that they equate it with poetry and fiction only. America’s first literature was neither. It was written speeches, sermons, and
political documents. Our earliest fiction appeared almost two centuries after
colonial times.
We
also negatively associate literature with school. Effective schooling requires a good measure
of self-discipline. So does reading. Also, words in a book don’t dance around as
do those on a screen. They sit
still. It’s good that they do. Still words, like still pictures, allow
thought and examination. But seduced by
gadgetry, we opt for the quick and easy.
Smart phones, that is.
Back
to poetry. If you think you dislike
poetry, Google the song “El Paso” by Marty Robbins. Hear its story line of a man’s love for a
woman. It’s a “western” story-poem. Note the song’s rhyme. Zero in on its vivid word pictures: “Rosa’s
Cantina,” “the badlands of New Mexico,” and “the wicked Falina.” Enjoy the song’s poetic elements, then write
me and tell me you’ve never enjoyed poetry.
If
country and western music (poetry) doesn’t ring your bell, hearken to England’s
William Wordsworth, the 19th century nature lover who should appeal
to any reader weary of Atlanta traffic.
In
“Tintern Abbey” Wordsworth reveals a deep nostalgia for boyhood when “Like a
roe,” he “bounded o’er the mountains / By the sides of the deep rivers and the
lonely streams / Wherever Nature led.”
Further
on, “Nature never did betray the heart that loved her / For she can so inform
the mind that is within us / So impress with quietness and beauty, that the
dreary intercourse of daily life / Shall ne’er prevail against us.”
Ok,
Wordsworth is lofty. But Bocephus (Hank
Williams, Jr.) isn’t. Try “If heaven
ain’t a lot like Dixie, I don’t wanna go / If it ain’t got a Grand Ole Opry
like they do in Tennessee / Just send me to hell or to New York City / It’d be
about the same to me.”
Somewhere
between these two wordsmiths stands the gallant Lincoln, known for his way with
words as well: “With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in
the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive … to bind up the
nation’s wounds.”
Literature
isn’t just for escape, but for engagement. Historically, it has been a “ram’s
horn” calling us to ideas and ideals that have enriched civilization. Escape can be found in television’s diet, but
beware: most of it is morally poisonous and intellectually vacuous.
Technology’s effect on literature has been
dire, diminishing the life of the mind. For
civilization’s sake, let’s allow our Wordsworths and Lincolns to inspire us, and
let Bocephus’ humor lighten our load.
Has progress in
technology equaled progress for the human race?
In large part, yes. But
technology isn’t a place where minds and hearts can meet and collaborate. Literature is. Stories, poems, letters, essays, and
histories hold the cure for far more societal needs than we realize (knowledge
of our grandparents, values, cultural norms).
Technology
hooks us on emails and instant messages.
Literature trains us in clear sentences and genuine communication. What we are calling connectivity is actually
distraction. That great blessing, the
internet, has led to very little genuine communication. Our constant connectivity has become a curse
on family life and a killer of true communication.
How
we need to read and talk!
Roger Hines
1/24/18
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