The Pilgrim Reader

Too many people approach books with an attitude of achievement and arrival. I can't count the number of discussions I've overheard that treat books as if they are the equivalent of running a marathon or summiting some famous peak - "Yeah, I've read Infinite Jest, I thought it was pretty good. "Oh, I haven't read that, but I did make it through Ulysses."


The reason I take issue with this spirit is that it reduces a wonderful art form to a sort of masochistic endeavor. I think that literature is unique among art forms in this dilemma, largely because of the effort that reading requires. With visual art, such as paintings or sculpture, all the activity that is required is to find a museum, pay for admission, and walk around with your eyes open - you can typically see an entire piece in an instant (I said see, not comprehend, calm down, artists). With music, even the avant-garde stuff that is parading as genius nowadays (what, I don't have a bias, what are you talking about), you typically are in a seat in an auditorium, and once you're there, all you need to do is stay seated, and the music will at least hit your ears, even if you don't want to hear it. With performance arts such as opera, dance, and theater, the effort may be slightly more involved in that you have to use both your eyes and ears, but again, typically, you're already in a seat in an auditorium, and unless you try to fight your way out mid-concert, you're going to witness art. With reading, though, you have a page in front of you, and you are the one that dictates the pace - your abilities as a reader impact the performance, and if your attention wanders, you aren't obliged to keep sitting there, staring at the page.



I feel like this attitude is the reason so many people have a disdain for reading, or at least a disdain for those who read. As the proud owner of a B.A. in English literature, I have taken part in a number of such discussions, and it really amazes me that talk of this ilk far outnumbers actual conversation about literature. Aside from the prosaic, "Have you read any good books recently," and "What books do you think I should read," our literary discourse is rather stunted (To be even more to the point, the first question is only ever answered with pretentious titles, and the second is just a chance for someone to boast about the famously difficult and long titles they've "enjoyed").


There may well be good cause for this; people seem more inclined to discuss other forms of media like music or movies (no judgment on that); chances are small that people will have read the same books, which discourages discourse; it's safer to admit to reading and liking a book that's famous and pretentious like The Brothers Karamazov than an unknown piece that is suspected to be pretentious, and so on. In the end, though, I feel that no matter how understandable this trend is, it should not be accepted and excused.


Fear not, gentle reader, I do in fact have a suggestion for remedying this grave disease (note that I said "suggestion," as opposed to "solution," I really don't know if it will work, but I can dream). What I propose is this: when we read, why don't we focus on the journey itself, as opposed to the destination. Hooray, a platitude! Let me explain what I mean in quasi-literary terms.


Anyone who has taken a writing course will no doubt be familiar with the so called "fire triangle" of writing. Much as actual fires need oxygen, heat, and a fuel source, stories need a plot, characters, and a setting (Yes, I'm sure some brilliant new metafiction piece has proven this to be false, but right now, I don't care, I'm making platitudes). I am not really going out on a limb when I say that the most noticed of these features is plot - again, I cannot number the times I have heard people remembering a book based solely on the incredible plot twist, while the number of conversations about incredible characters or settings are rare indeed.


Now, plot is indeed an important and thrilling element to literature, but I feel like the words of Qoheleth in Ecclesiastes are appropriate -"there is nothing new under the sun." Aristotle laid out the basics of plot in his Poetics, and it is truly rare to find a plot that doesn't ape some earlier archetypal progression. Let me put this more simply - the vast majorities of plots have already been written, and all that happens is that authors adapt them for a more modern environment. I'm not saying that this is bad, but I am saying that it is the simplest and easiest element of literature to do well.


My clever reader, you have no doubt deduced that, plot eliminated, a book must be great based on characters, setting, or both. Ha, I surprise you again, for you are wrong to assume so! In my opinion, the true measure of greatness for a piece of art is the extent to which it illuminates our lives, and yes, I think that characters and setting achieve this more readily that plot (most of us can't relate to the majority of plots, but we can find things in characters and locations that remind us of our own lives). But the true measure of greatness lies elsewhere, and to explain, I must go on another tangent.


In the modern era, most people view the career of the writer as the ideal - set your own hours, exercise your creative spirit, and bathe in the money and fame. The blog Stuff White People Like has my back on this one - most (white) people view writing as their shot at an easy life. Unfortunately, this isn't the reality of the matter. A quick survey of writing blogs out there  will show you that most people simply don't write very well, even if they try, and the reason is this - it's really hard to be a good writer. Just like very, very few people possess the physical abilities of a Lebron James or Calvin Johnson, very, very few people have the intellectual and creative abilities of a William Faulkner or Jane Austen.


Moreover, just as an elite athlete must hone their bodies, reflexes, and minds to achieve success, writers must work damn hard at what they do to achieve success. I've studied a fair number of authors, and I find that a quote from Mozart (perhaps the most naturally gifted composer in history, and certainly the most famous for the seemingly effortless way in which he composed) describes the craft of writing best:

It is a mistake to think that the practice of my art has become easy to me. I assure you, dear friend, no one has given so much care to the study of composition as I. There is scarcely a famous master in music whose works I have not frequently and diligently studied.

Even the most naturally and sublimely gifted authors had to toil to achieve success. Shakespeare, Keats, Joyce, Milton, and anyone else you care to name had to spend years writing before they wrote masterfully.


Now, to return to my original point, which is the drubbing literature receives from topical conversation, let me suggest again my better way. When I spoke earlier of focusing on the journey of reading, what I meant was this - revel in the characters, in the dialogue, in the narrative passages, in the long, elegant descriptions, and see the beauty that is before you.


To wit - in Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, the plot is quite remarkable (though sadly spoiled by that god-awful musical[yes, I despise musicals on the whole, what of it?]), but the characters of Marius, Cosette, Jean Valjean, and Javert (to say nothing of the wealth of more minor figures, including my favorite, the splendid Bishop of Digne, Moseigneur Bienvenu) are absolutely overpowering, and the setting - ah, what to say? If you have not read Les Miserables, you cannot understand how wonderful a chapter devoted to the history and evolution of Parisian sewers can be. But, on top of the superb triumvirate of plot, characters, and setting, rests the craft of Hugo, most notable to me in his chapter on slang - yes, and entire chapter devoted to the history of slang, and its philosophical and philological necessity. If Les Miserables is a great book (and I believe it to be so), it is not due primarily to the plot, but to the other three categories I have mentioned.


I titled this post 'The Pilgrim Reader,' primarily because I was thinking of Josef Pieper and his reflections on hope (long story, email me if you want an explanation). Ultimately, what I wish to suggest is this; Perhaps we would be better served by viewing ourselves as literary pilgrims, always journeying, looking to the wonders that surround us instead of counting the mile markers. When we read, let it be from love and a yearning for beauty and truth, not from a desire to impress or intimidate others, nor to mortify our flesh and subdue our wandering minds.