No, it's true. And here is the evidence.
When J and I first started dating, I mentioned that I like to read (shocking, I know). He suggested a few authors and I took a lit. course at BYU. It turns out that, from time to time, in both classic and critically acclaimed literature, things don't always go well.
By that, I mean, loyal dogs die, people are inexplicably crucified, innocent men are accused of murder, and older brothers are less than perfect. Reading these short stories and novels was fairly depressing, assuming I understood the story at all.
Another sore point was all the ambiguity and loose ends. What do you mean there's no ending?!?! How can the story be finished when no one has gotten married or packaged things up tidily? How is that possible? Did she have an affair or didn't she? Was the woman a snake or just weirdly interested in eating rats? What was the author getting at?!
At one point I just got mad at J for encouraging me to read Good Literature,* and squarely placed the blame for all the unhappiness and tragedy within literature on his shoulders. (Perhaps unfair, but whatever.)
After a particularly difficult time with The Brothers K (not Karamazov, just "K") and an even more harrowing experience with Crime and Punishment, I gave up on serious books for awhile. How long, one might ask? Hmmm, how old is Grace now? Almost that long.
(Enter Harry Potter and YA lit. Good times. We've talked about this ad nauseum.)
Oddly enough, I've been noticing a shift. A higher tolerance, if you will, for sadness. Maybe because I'm less angry as a person I can better tolerate the anger in books? I don't know. Maybe I'm becoming a darker person. Any thoughts on that?
Granted, I don't always want a heavy theme or taxing subject. But more and more often these days I do.
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*My words. J would never call my preference in books "crap"—even if they sometimes are. For the record, J is happy for me to read anything that makes me happy or at least makes me happy to be reading, even if it does make me cry.
8 comments:
You have such a way with words, Miss Kitti. So enjoyable; so precisely to-the-point. Could it be a result of all this 'reading'? :P
I don't think a higher tolerance for sadness points to being a darker person, just that your interest in the well-being of others has increased, as well as your capacity for empathy. You can handle the sad because you're more willing to explore the characters' pain in order to see the joy in what perchance could have been, had circumstances or choices been different, and then to go on and experience what actually does happen right along with them, for good or ill. You also have been through your own personal h*ll (trials/difficulties/troubles/anger/fatigue/darkness/--insert what you will) at different times in your life, and so can empathize with greater strength and duration now that you're more mature. (notice I didn't say 'older', because by gum, I don't think that has anything to do with anything!!! )
The only negative thing I could say about books like this is if they stifle the cheery and kind attributes that are your hallmark.
Loved your post, Kitti. You DO have a way with words. I read books now that I know I wouldn't have 10 years ago even, for reasons I won't go into. I love checking out all different kinds and if I don't like something, so what? To each his own, right?
And the last thing you are is dark.
i've noticed that when i'm feeling dark, all i want to do is curl up with a good piece of YA lit, where everything is packaged nicely at the end (like you said). call it comfort reading, like ben and jerry's, without all the fat (or flavor). and like these others said, you are anything but dark. although, even if you are a little bit dark, i don't think that would be a bad thing :)
love this post. love you.
Hi Becky! Welcome and you are a sweetheart.
Shawn -totally agree. Each to her own.
Annie- I so love the comfort reading. And no calories.
I really like this post, MK. Thanks for it.
I wonder, though, if reading literature really does make us more empathetic.
I've given a lot of thought to this, and my (current) contention is that it doesn't.
In fact, I think it probably does almost exactly the opposite. Reading, solitary an act as it is in general today, tends to cut us off from the world, its suffering and joy. Literature may once, long ago when it was a communal (and actually pre-literate) activity, may have softened hearts and knit communities together, but I don't think it does much of that anymore.
(As someone who's dedicated his professional life to the analysis of literature, I can testify that the professional analysis of literature probably makes one worse.)
I find that my reading patters seem to undulate like waves. Sometimes the tide is for "crap", the non-thinking neatly packaged story, sometime it moves toward themes (lately Afghanistan), and sometimes it is for insight and learning and sometime - gasp - I actually don't even want to pick up a book (however I do believe this comes from my deteriorating eyesight and the necessity of ever stronger reading glasses). I guess it's a mood thing. I do know, that since I've met Tom I have read and come to love books and writers that I probably wouldn't have otherwise...and he says he gets all HIS ideas from J. Can there ever really be too much talk about books......I don't think so.
Sometimes I just can't settle to a book that I have to think about or that demands anything from me. I have been like that throughout my pregnancy, and I am hoping with Elliot's arrival that I will be able to read more diversely again. Though truth be told I really haven't been reading much of anything lately, high minded or crap.
A clarification for RD: I didn't say the books helped her be more empathetic, just that MK herself has changed since the time when all she wanted was YA lit, and now (because of her own changes) has a greater capacity for empathy toward the characters in the books.
Everyone grows. Everyone adapts. Everyone changes, to the chagrin of everyone who writes "Never change!" in a high school senior yearbook. And sometimes the growth helps us learn stuff about ourselves, and allows us to explore new things, like literature, of all kinds.
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