Turning to Literature

Growing up as a middle sister, I learned many lessons through the experiences of my older and younger sisters. I was constantly seeking to protect them, understand them, and support them, even when their struggles, triumphs, achievements, disappointments or goals were different than my own. However, this closeness changed and shifted as I grew up and we all attended different boarding schools. As I began studying French literature, I found myself deeply connected to Marcel Proust and Levi-Strauss. Their perspectives on how to handle themselves, their own darkness, their thoughts and perspectives on the world and how they conceptualized their reality all served as models to me when I was doubtful or struggling to understand my own reality. Feeling a connection to another person through their writing gave me great peace when I needed it most. Just as Steve Martin felt after reading W. Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge, a story about a quest for knowledge, I felt that through learning, and reading in particular, I “could have secrets possessed only by a few” (Hitz 28). That’s what people need most in their youth, some words of guidance, which I think literature can provide, which in turn can make people, if not better human beings, at least feel better for a period of time in their lives.

Throughout my life, literature has provided me with guidance, reassurance and a sense of comfort. I’m inclined to believe that my personal experience serves as enough evidence for me to believe that literature makes people “better,” kinder, and softer. In “Does Great Literature Make Us Better?,” Gregory Currie argues that there lacks “causal evidence: we need to show that exposure to literature itself makes some sort of positive difference to the people we end up being.” I would include myself in the group of individuals who “will probably soldier on with a positive view of the improving effects of literature, supported by nothing more than an airy bed of sentiment.” But that airy bed of sentiment is all the evidence I need! After all, if literature has the capacity to show us how to relate to others, find connection and find solace in it, then I think that literature has improving effects on people, whether those effects are short-term or long-term probably depends on the person.

I was particularly fond of Currie’s reference to Martha Bussbaum’s book “Love’s knowledge,” in which she argues that narrative form gives literary fiction “a peculiar power to generate moral insight.” I love this! Narratives have a beginning, middle and end. It’s nice to read a story that presents a character, a challenge, a (hopefully) journey towards overcoming obstacles and eventual triumph. I agree that narratives would generate moral insight by allowing us to see the beginning, middle and end of a tale, imparting a lesson or wisdom to the reader.

I agree that reading can help us to empathize with other human beings, in addition to helping us connect with ourselves.  In the article “Does reading fiction make us better people?,” Hammond discusses how books can teach us about the world, especially through our identification with characters in books. The article states, “without necessarily even noticing, we imagine what it’s like to be [the characters] and compare their reactions to situations with how we responded in the past, or imagine we might in the future.” Reading stories gives us the opportunity to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes, to empathize with another person’s experience, to dive into another culture, assume a different perspective. Specifically when reading fiction, the reader is more likely to “suspend disbelief without questioning the veracity of what people are saying,” and view a characters life over a span of time, even many years. For me, reading fiction and other literature, has given me the ability not only to better understand human beings, but also to better understand myself. I have found comfort in knowing that my struggles, challenges or feelings at a certain point in my life are shared by another person (an author, character, sociologist, philosopher).

3 thoughts on “Turning to Literature

  1. I so agree Hannah, some of the first lessons we learn are from our siblings and I think that these are some of our best lessons. I think then we spend the rest of our lives trying to find that same emotional connection in books and other literature. Like you said, we find these lessons in characters, philosophers, and authors, but even further I feel like we find our people (siblings, parents, friends) in these books as well. Great job!

  2. I found it insightful reading about your perspective as a middle sibling, having been separated from your sisters when you attended boarding school. This offered me a unique perspective from my own since I’m the younger sibling of two children and was separated from my older brother in a different way since we’re half siblings. But we share that same experience of learning more about ourselves and the people around us through literature, having experienced a sort of social/familial lack! I also appreciated how you brought up Currie’s comment about only needing an airy sentiment as proof that studying literature has beneficial effects, because I feel the same way! Their insights on scientific data was interesting to read about, but experiments like those are not fool proof, so I agree it’s largely dependent on an individual’s take on the subject.

  3. Your post demonstrates, Hannah, repeatedly (and in a good way!), the various kinds of effects reading can have on us. You point toward literary texts that engaged you once you were away from your sisters, providing alternative methods for developing your understanding of others; you highlight an array of non-fiction writing that helped you to think carefully about your relationship to literature. Your post attends carefully to key ideas from Hammond, Currie, and (through Currie) Nussbaum, all of which you tie together (even sometimes pushing against the author’s claims, with Currie) to reveal your understanding of the role of reading in your own life. (I appreciated how your images connected to the ideas in your post.)

Leave a Reply