You are here, which means that you, in some way, are drawn to the notion that literature - good books - bear immense weight and value. The very best pages are as etched with gold. But in what, exactly, is the value of literature? Is it in the people who inhabit great books, our beloved friends - Jo March, Anne Shirley, Jay Gatsby, and Liesel Meminger? In Peter Pan and Winnie the Pooh and Samwise Gamgee? Is it in the metaphors and the similes, the goldenrod growing through the earth-plated oak? Is it in the tunes and the melodies, the cadence of the writer’s thought rewritten in your mind? Is it in the chapters and plotlines, the sequences of things? Or is it in the soul of the story, the whispers and the shouts of meaning from the pen of man, the lingering truth of the telling, the experience, and the emotion? Is it in the embodiment of the great ideas, the order of the world perceived through imagination? Is it in the quiet and everlasting resounding whisper of truth? I think it is in all of these things, and more.
I’ve lived through twenty conscious years of story - long enough to thirst for a thousand more. I look forward to reading my life away, and to always being first-and-foremost a student of literature, even as I teach it and share it with others. Young as I am, I am eager to defend the necessity of literature to human life, as my literary heroes did, so if you are unsure of the inherent value of a good book, let us convince you now.
Emily Dickinson wrote this:
There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away,
Not any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry.
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll —
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears a Human soul.
John Keats described the worlds inside books as “the realms of gold.”
P.T. Barnum described literature as “one of the most interesting and significant expressions of humanity.”
And as Cyril Connolly so eloquently stated:
“While thought exists, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into reality.”
I’ve been reading through a wonderful book titled Recovering the Lost Art of Reading: A Quest for the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. The authors, Leland Ryken and Glenda Faye Mathes, are true kindred spirits and have put into words many of the things I have been feeling and pondering in my personal literary journey. They attest that the inherent value of literature is in its ability to let us see life steadily and as a whole, to encounter the great ideas and make intellectual sense of the world, and to refresh us with beauty. Truth, Goodness, and Beauty are encapsulated in good literature, and these three capital-letter aspects are what make existence worthwhile. What else does literature offer, according to Ryken and Mathes? Good books offer a leave-taking from the ordinary world to an imaginary one, and replenish our spirit with wonder. In this realm, we forget ourselves and our cares, and get lost in a state of stillness and quietness. Good books provide us with equipment for living: clarity of vision, and a thinking mind. Good books lead us to examine ourselves, for, as Socrates said, ‘the unexamined life is not worth living.’ To be a thinking person is useful as well as pleasurable, and something God requires of us. Reading great literature refreshes our innermost human aspects: our souls, our minds, and our imaginations. The joy is before you. Open a book, and enter (Ryken, Faye).
And what of you readers who write? J.R.R. Tolkien said:
“Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.”
The literary impulse is inherently part of my nature, and the creative impulse at large is part of us all. If you are convinced of the inherent value of a good book, or a beautiful painting, or a well-stitched handkerchief, I want to ask you: what will you do in response? You must do something. You must let good art change you, and you must make good art to change the world. For me, the impulse to write has always been partnered with my impulse to read. The two go hand in hand. Can you relate, dear reader? The joy is before you. Pick up your pen, and write.