Great literature both captures and shapes culture and people. It is a primary resource that societies use to anchor their identity around celebrated ideals, values, and virtues. This chapter explores the question âWhat is good literature?â It illustrates what good novels have in common and how the power of words and story refine and develop oneâs beliefs, dispositions, and habits. The chapter inspires and equips readers to be connoisseurs of good literature so as to become aesthetically aware, culturally astute, and principled leaders.
Not all stories are created equally. The 19th-century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer noted in his essay On Reading and Books (Schopenhauer, 1851/1882):
Hence, in regard to our subject, the art of not reading is highly important. This consists in not taking a book into oneâs hand merely because it is interesting to the great public at the time â such as political or religious pamphlets, novels, poetry, and the like, which make a noise and reach perhaps several editions in their first and last years of existence. Remember rather that the man who writes for fools always finds a large public: and only read for a limited and definite time exclusively the works of great minds, those who surpass other men of all times and countries, and whom the voice of fame points to as such. These alone really educate and instruct. One can never read too little of bad, or too much of good books: bad books are intellectual poison; they destroy the mind. In order to read what is good, one must make it a condition never to read what is bad; for life is short, and both time and strength limited.
Not everyone agrees that there are universal standards of greatness in art or literature. Literary critic Nicholas Shakespeare (2016) noted in the Daily Telegraph in a review of a book on 20th-century British literary culture that,
âTasteâ has fewer guides. There is no single mainstream. The influence once exerted by a circle of middle-class male Londoners has dissolved into the Amazon free-for-all, where every reader is a critic, even if they can find it problematic to distinguish a novel from a biography or, in extreme cases, a book from a beanbag.
While taste is not just difficult to measure but surely impossible to quantify, a common measure is the so-called âtest of time.â Hipple (1992) wrote:
It is commonplace in literary studies to suggest that one of the standards by which classic literature is so identified is that the novel or play or poem has âstood the test of time.â In essence, this criterion holds that a work cannot be a classic unless and until it has been read by generations of readers beyond the time of its writing. Thus, Twainâs Adventures of Huckleberry Finn easily makes the list, as does most of Dickens and Hardy and Jane Austen and virtually all of Shakespeare. Curiously, a book does not necessarily have to be read in its own time â just in succeeding times; witness Moby Dick, not a popular novel when Melville first published it but eminently so after its first few decades of sparse readership.
The âtest of timeâ standard goes beyond mere faddishness. Novels that may be considered great or important or even just popular may not be read at all by subsequent generations. J.K. Rowlingâs Harry Potter series, as but one example, may or may not be seen on a par with J.R.R. Tolkienâs The Lord of the Rings trilogy or C.S. Lewisâs Chronicles of Narnia series in another 40 years. Rowlingâs books may surpass those in reputation. That is not to say one series of books is better than or worse than the others. The test of time is a reasonable measure of long-term appreciation and quality but not a foolproof test of âgreatnessâ or substantiveness or depth. Indeed, many great novels undoubtedly get left behind as time marches on, authors die, tastes change and older books get lost in the glut of newer books in the current publishing boom. Author and professor C.S. Lewis (1944/1970) advocated the reading of âold booksâ noting that people of any generation suffer a sort of blindness from being surrounded only by current ideas and philosophies and largely ignorant, or hostile to, past or future ideas and assumptions. He wrote:
None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it and weaken our guard against it, if we only read modern books. Where they are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill. The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can only be done by reading old books.
Lewis (1944/1970) went on to note that while mere age doesnât imbue books with special wisdom, reading old books can help us avoid contemporary mistakes. In other words, reading about past cultures and characters can inform us of our current times and potential troubles that lie ahead. As Lewis wrote,
People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes. . . . Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction.
While, to some degree âbeauty is in the eye of the beholderâ (or reader in this case), most scholars and teachers would agree that some books are better for us than others even if there is not universal consensus on which specific books would be better. These good books are not akin to the Brussel sprouts (or insert detested vegetable here) of childhood, that while âgood for usâ are not enjoyable. On the other end of the spectrum, some books are so light and fluffy, they are akin to junk food â delicious, but empty and loaded with unfulfilling calories. These books are enjoyable for a fleeting moment, but if over-consumed can lead to longer term negative consequences â lazy thinking and bad ideas among others. Which books are good and which are bad? This volume will not purport to fully answer that question. Instead, this chapter will provide some guidance as to what books are beneficial and to argue that, unlike Brussel sprouts, these âgood for youâ books are not just healthy mentally, emotionally, and spiritually â but are also enjoyable â like a good steak. In other words, people can have their steak and read it too.
The quality and quantity of reading are related issues. Author and professor Karen Swallow Prior (2018) noted that merely reading widely is insufficient to garner the benefits of reading books. She expanded on the theme that people must read not just for quantity but also for quality. âOne must read virtuously,â she stated (p. 14). Reading good books takes some effort. Rarely is the worthwhile thing easy. Reading books that demand the readerâs thought and time is akin to exercise. The more one works out that âreading muscle,â the easier and more rewarding reading becomes. Learning to enjoy the complexity and universality of great books is a major part of the journey. This vicarious experiencing of complex and universal settings and characteristics equips the reader to properly and adequately handle the often tangled knot of real-life problems and personalities. On the other end of the spectrum, Noel Carroll (1994) wrote of âjunk fictionâ that:
Indeed, their story dimension is the most important thing about them. Stephen King, for instance, makes this point by saying that he is primarily a story teller, rather than a writer. Junk fictions aspire to be page-turners â the blurb on the cover of Stillwatch by Mary Higgins Clark says that it is âdesigned to be read at breathtaking speedâ â and what motivates turning the page so quickly is our interest in what happens next. We do not dawdle over Clarkâs diction as we might over Updikeâs nor do we savor the complexity of her sentence structure, as we do with Virginia Woolfâs. Rather, we read for story.
Moreover, junk fictions are the sort of narratives that commentators are wont to call formulaic. That is, junk fictions generally belong to well-entrenched genres, which themselves are typified by their possession of an extremely limited repertoire of story-types.
Leaving aside Carrollâs characterization of many mass market novels as âjunkâ fiction, his point remains that some novels aim for more complex story and characterization by using more complex sentence and style and avoiding standard tropes of character and plot. Needless to say, many great works also trade in archetypal figures and plots such as the quest, the redemption story, and the Christ figure to name but a few.
What makes a novel great?
The questions of what makes literature great, how to identify great literature, and how to apply the benefits that flow from reading great literature, can be daunting, especially to the uninitiated. This and the following chapter also explore what great novels have in common despite their different settings, characters, and plots. Broadly speaking, great novels, those that stand âthe test of timeâ or reach some level of universal acclaim, will often (though not solely â there are always exceptions to general rules) touch on universal themes, characters and plots, setting and symbolism that transcend culture and time (Baym, 1979).
Common elements of good literature (i.e., good story)
There is some debate as to how many basic plots there are and that debate is beyond the scope of this chapter, but the various lists have some commonalities: quests (of which Don Quixote and Moby-Dick have aspects), overcoming adversity, comedy (of which Don Quixote and Pride and Prejudice have aspects), tragedy, and others.1 Taking the three novels discussed herein as exemplars of good and great novels: each of the novels present some aspects of many of the fundamental plots. Don Quixote has elements of a quest as well as comedy as readers follow Don Quixote and his squire Sancho Panza on their series of misadventures seeking fame and fortune. Cervantes also uses his novel to satirize and critique Spanish mores and society. Likewise, Moby-Dick contains multiple plot aspects including the quest plot as Ahab and his crew relentlessly pursue the titular white whale. It also has aspects of tragedy as the captain and crew lose everything as a result of arrogance among other character traits that contribute to the demise of the crew of the Pequod. Likewise, Pride and Prejudice has aspects of different core plots. It is considered by many to be a comedy. Jane Austen occasionally, but gently, pointedly satirizes the social structure of Great Britain as well as the social mores regarding marriage, the landed gentry and the ways that the different strata of society can suffer from pride and prejudice. Austen expertly guides us to the storyâs conclusion by setting up and then resolving the conflict that initially separates the protagonists and then ultimately brings them closer together. The ability to incorporate various plot devices expertly is one way to identify great literature. The great authors provide compelling stories in ways that avoid contrivance, but â even if set in an extraordinary or exotic locale or era â strike the reader as familiar â even universal.
Great novels have at least one great protagonist â a main character that drives the plot and is the hero or at least the one whom the reader âroots for.â Many novels have multiple protagonists or a rich array of characters that populate the novel and provide various opportunities to highlight and represent values and traits. Great novels also have an (or multiple) antagonist â a main character (or whale perhaps) who challenges the protagonist along the way to the novelâs conclusion. There is no formula for what constitutes a good protagonist or antagonist, but the ones in the three examples used in this book are emblematic. Great characters, like great novels, often stand the test of time and usually have one or more character traits that help the audience empathize with their struggles and successes. Great antagonists are also often characters with whom the audience initially identifies. They are sometimes the more interesting of the two main characters.
One of the more famous examples is the general conclusion that in John Miltonâs epic Paradise Lost, the character of Satan is much more complex and interesting than his portrayal of God. Thatâs not too surprising given the limits in portraying God as anything other than as perfect given Miltonâs censorious time. Villains are often more liberating for an author in terms of portraying character. Moby-Dick is a good example. Ishmael, the narrator and protagonist of the novel is a good-natured sort and somewhat of an innocent. Heâs an interesting character and one with whom we empathize and identify. But Captain Ahab, the antagonist, is the âjuicierâ character with all of his obsessive rage and mysterious habits. He is, in almost every way, more extreme than Ishmael and Melville highlights Ahabâs lack of virtues in ways that Ishmael never could. In Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen does not use a main antagonist though there are a few characters who work to keep the two protagonists apart. Austen mostly makes Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, the two protagonists, their own worst enemies. It is their character flaws that work to frustrate their own desires and thus she is able to use their growth in emotional intelligence and self-discovery to resolve the main conflict of the novel. Austen simultaneously fills their world with interesting minor characters who exemplify and satirize various aspects of English society.
Character development through depiction and not solely through explicit description is also an aspect of great novels and characterization. For example, Elizabeth Bennet, the female protagonist in Pride and Prejudice, is portrayed as prejudiced toward Mr. Darcy, the main male protagonist, and others of the upper classes of British society. Of course, Austen sometimes explicitly describes Elizabeth as prideful, prejudiced, or joyful, but the more impactful illustrations of her come through plot, or from another characterâs description of her or in the moments of self-discovery expressed in conversation or the written letters between various characters. In describing the depth of her marital bliss compared to her...