“The great authors are able to show us nature in microcosm a few pages at a time. You can live life richly and prepare yourself to live it actually by reading great books.”
This was the opening statement in an online course my husband and I are taking through Hillsdale online called “Great Literature 101.” It’s a grand statement, encapsulating the value of well-written fiction, stories that are replete with significant themes and types, yet never coming across as a stuffy academic treatises – “nature in microcosm a few pages at a time.” Great literature, in order to be great, must engage the reader in a character or characters that speak to you, that tell you something about yourself and all within the confines of a cracking good story with language that elevates and edifies – that’s the Lynniebee requirement anyway.
My reading habits are fairly eclectic. I’m not often found with my nose in a book that could be classified as “great literature.” I enjoy mystery novels, some romance novels, biographies and autobiographies, children’s classics, historical fiction, theological books, devotional books, poetry, science fiction and fantasy, real-life dramas and probably more that I’m not remembering right now. But in the last 15 years or so, I have been challenging myself to read more of what might be considered “literature,” or even “great literature.” I read with pencil in hand, prepared to underline those parts that speak to my soul, that inspire me, that comfort me, that bring joy or even weeping.
But how does reading great books prepare you to live life? Think about a book you’ve read in which the main character makes a decision to sacrifice his wants and desires, maybe even his life, in order to save others or in order to achieve the highest good for others under his care. (And please, just go ahead and assume that when I say “his” I am referring to men and women. It’s just clumsy and awkward to have to say “his/her” all the time.) Will you ever be asked to deny yourself something in order to benefit someone else? Unless you live in isolation, you most assuredly will be. As you read about a character like that, you are rehearsing for real life. The character’s example, either positive or negative, will prompt you to ask yourself what you would do in a similar situation.
Or perhaps you will read about a character facing a temptation of some sort. How does the character meet it? Does he resist? Does he give in? If so, what are the consequences? The next time a temptation sweeps over you with its siren call, you may well be prepared to meet it by thinking about how Odysseus tied himself to a mast and stopped up his ears, or by thinking about Frodo resisting the power of the Ring – or even by remember the wreckage of Gollum, who did not resist that same power.
The Bible is the ultimate book. It holds the distinction of being great literature at that same time as being true. It is not a book of fiction, though within its pages you will find stories called parables, and poetry with rich metaphors. But you also find in it plenty of real-life stories of men and women who lived large lives, committed great sins and met with a great Savior who sacrificed all so that those sins (and ours) might be forgiven and to begin the work of making us more like Him. It’s a cracking good story that also happens to be true. So if I could only retain one book on my bookshelf, it would be the Bible. No matter what else I’m reading, I’m always reading through that Great Book concurrently.
But I hope I’ll never be asked to give up other books that have been my teachers, my companions, my source of both good and bad examples, my inspiration, and such books that have been a joy and solace to my soul. Those books have indeed enabled me to “live life richly.”
Although I suspect that many of them may not make it into a syllabus entitled “Great Literature.” 😊
I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but only if I have first read a great book in which the main character struggles against great odds and realizes that in order to makes things right, the blog post must go. Then I’ll do it.
Lynniebeemuseoday 