Weber State College Comment, January 1988, Page5S In praise of quality literature by Gordon T. Allred This is English 250—Introduction to Literature,” the teacher begins, “and my name is Arden Greenwell. Anybody like to tell me why you’re enrolled in this class?” Thirty pairs of eyes regard him blankly, some perhaps apprehensively. Two or three of them exchange glances, nervous grins. Who is this balding, foureyed Greenwell dude,anyway? What’s his game? “Seriously,” he persists. “Why are you here?” “Three hours required credit,” one of the bolder ones ventures. A little laughter that loosens things up a bit. “T’ll buy that,” Greenwell says, “credit’s credit. Butis that it? Ifso, I’ve gota pretty easy row.” Anemic laughter, swallowed by silence. The windows of the soul, at least the intellect, before him appear vacant. “Well, let’s look at it another way. How many of you have ever read a short story or a novel ... even a poem?” A few hands rise tentatively. Some are reluctant to make a commitment, silently invoking the Fifth on the usual grounds. Still others, an astonishing number, have literally never read a novel, story, or even a poem, barring perhaps an occasional bit of greeting card verse or the offerings of Eddie Guest. Our teacher puts the bead on a student who looks relatively confident. “So why did you do it? Why did you read?” “Entertainment, I guess,” comes the reply. Greenwell nods, arches one eyebrow. “Okay, good enough. Nothing wrong with entertainment necessarily. We all need a certain amount, and, for that matter, all good literature should be entertaining in the sense that it captures and holds our interests.” His brow ripples upward expectantly well past the once-existent hairline. “Anything else, or is that ‘all she wrote?’” A hand attached to a delicate feminine arm flutters moth-like. “Yes!” Greenwell sayS, striving for a proper balance between restraint and cordiality. “Well... sometimes I, well, think that stories and novels can help us understand ourselves a little better.” “Good,” he beams. The catalyst is at last going to work. “And maybe others as well?” The girl nods, feels maybe that’s correct. “Of course, now” Greenwell explains, "nearly all literature can accomplish that to some extent-newspaper articles, psychology texts, history books and so on. So what is it that really makes imaginative literature such as fiction, drama, and poetry different? What can they accomplish that the other kinds of writing don’t?” “Experience?” someone hazards. The spirit of confidence is gradually blossoming. “Like maybe you can, oh, kind of live and feel it.” “Bravo!” our teacher exclaims. “That truly is the most fundamental difference. Other types of literature are mainly just information or argumentative. They appeal primarily to the intellect, which is fine, but if you honestly want to feel the written word, allow it to take root inside, you have to expose yourself to the kind of creative literature we’ve been talking about, the type we sometimes call experiential. It’s one thing, for example, to write in the abstract about the importance of love and caring or even to preach a “As readers begin tp enjo Za riches, fo the fulfillmen¢ es with true that com literary WAN"Y they will NO 10NDeF be sermon on it. It’s another to have it germinate in such stories as Eudora Welty’s ‘A Wom Path,’ which recounts the perilous journey taken by an aged black woman in the South to obtain medicine for her dying grandson. The entire story is highly descriptive, containing the kinds of words and sentences that appeal vividly to our senses. And...” Greenwell raises a forefinger for emphasis, “description, probably more than anything else, is what gives imaginative literature its life’s blood and allows us to live our way into it.” He goes on to contrast the difference in merely informing someone, for example, that Christmas tree cutting can be pleasant and memorable, and in creating a passage like the following from Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory”: And indeed, it is a kind of ocean. Scented acres of holiday trees, prickly-leafed holly. Red berries shiny as Chinese bells: black crows swoop upon them screaming. *** The one we pick is a brave handsome brute that survives thirty hatchet strokes before it keels with a creaking rending cry. Lugging it we commence AA (E y such os the long trek out. Every few yards we abandon the struggle and sit down and pant. But we have the strength of triumphant huntsmen; that and the tree’s virile, icy perfume revive us, goad us on. Some of the previously vacant countenances are acquiring greater interest and empathy, and in the days to come Prof. Greenwell is able to elaborate with greater meaning the vital role of imaginative literature in human experience. In so doing, he cites the words of another content With th 4 — of SUPESTiciay reading tnat furnishes hes es0ane” OMleri ap. ment fOr the Sake of professor named Faber from Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451,” a popular, long-lived science fiction novel which addresses the same subject: Most of us can’t rush around, talk to everyone, know all of the cities of the world, we haven’t the time, money, that many friends. The things you’re looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine percent of them is in a book. Expanding upon the subject, Faber inquires: Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. *** This book can go under the microscope. You’d find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more ‘literary’ you are. That’s my _ definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. In “451” Bradbury often manages to practice what his fictional mouthpiece preaches, and would, no doubt, endorse strongly the Poet Ezra Pound’s statement that “great writing is language charged to the utmost possible degree with meaning.” Laurence Perrine’s observation applies as well, that such language at its best becomes “incandescent, giving off both light and heat.” Although both Pound and Perrine are referring specifically to poetry here, their words can also apply in many instances to fine creative prose and drama. We can readily verify this point by turning to such authors as Shakespeare and Tolstoy or to great literary passages within the Bible. Many of our best modern writers bear witness of the same truth as well; Hemingway, who sought through intense selectivity to achieve a kind of literary “fourth dimension,” and Wolfe, who conversely aspired through verbal profusion “to make tongue say more than tongue could utter.” As readers begin to enjoy such riches, to know the fulfillment that comes with true literary quality they will no longer be content with the kind of superficial reading that furnishes mere escape, entertainment for the sake of entertainment alone. They will begin to recognize the Harlequin Romance for what it truly is, a superficially attractive mannequin bearing no more resemblance to real life than Barbie dolls do to real men and women. They will begin to recognize the “Bondian” suspense thriller and C-grade western for what they are, enjoyable diversions, but poor nutritionally and often narcotically addictive. They will begin to recognize porn, both hard and soft, as sexually titillating but spiritually deadening, written, to borrow from Faulkner, “of the glands and not of the heart.” Learning to recognize good and great literature, on the other hand, may be more difficult, as Prof. Greenwell often reminds his class. But for openers, here are a few basic tests: *Does the work in question lead us away from life or draw us more deeply into it? *Do the key characters undergo any significant and lasting change? *Do they come to life so vitally and compellingly in the process that they and the reader gradually become one? *Does the reader truly learn something of lasting consequence about the human condition, experience a heightened sense of awareness and emotional enrichment? *Does he or she derive greater empathy for people of widely varying philosophies, needs and temperaments? ‘Does the writing itself surge with energy to vibrate thrillingly at times within the heart and soul? Such, perhaps above all, is the hallmark of all great art. Robert Penn Warren, three-time Pulitzer Prize winner and first American Poet Laureate, once observed that we read quality literature “for some slight hint about the story in the life we live.” This holding true, quality literature not only reflects the life we live, but life must also reflect the literature we read. Both merit wise and discriminating cultivation. Dr. Allred is a professor of English at Weber State,and the author ofanumber of nationalandinternationalnovels.