Literature, part 1: What is it?

The new PhD comics got me thinking about literature. What is it good for? First, let's try and sort out what things are and aren't literature. Camera instruction manual: not literature. Thermodynamics textbook: not literature. "The Telltale Heart" by Edgar Poe: literature. Dictionary: not literature. So the rule so far seems to be a story, which may or may not be true, that is read purely for enjoyment.

But what about "All the King's Men" by Robert Warren? In high school I was assigned to read it, and if you managed to trudge through it, well you have much more stamina and tolerance for unpleasant things than I do. But even if you enjoyed that book, there must be some book that you were assigned to read, but didn't enjoy. The goal in these English classes was to ... make sure we can read? make us think critically about hidden meanings? make sure we can express ourselves clearly? I think it might be that last one. But where does the literature come in? Why not read passages from Transport Phenomena (2nd Ed) (by Bird, Stewart, and Lightfoot - best book ever!), and analyze those? Anyway, this means that even things we read that we don't enjoy are still considered literature. So let's modify our definition: "Literature tells a story."

What does Wikipedia have to say?

Critics may exclude works from the classification "literature," for example, on the grounds of a poor standard of grammar and syntax, of an unbelievable or disjointed story-line, or of inconsistent or unconvincing characters. Genre fiction (for example: romance, crime, or science fiction) may also become excluded from consideration as "literature."

So it can be unenjoyable, but it can't have a disjointed storyline (like "Slaughterhouse Five," which appeared in the Time magazine list, '100 all-time best English-language novels written since 1923'). It doesn't even need to have a purpose, does it? In fact (if I may be allowed to build my straw man), purists might argue that a real work of literature must not have any purpose. For example, this straw purist might read a hypothetical short story, in which the main character stops at one point to enjoy "an ice-cold Pepsi. Man, nothing quenches my thirst on a hot sweaty day like today quite like Pepsi. Oh man, that's good and refreshing." The purpose, obviously, is to plug this brand. But if it's got a believable storyline and realistic characters, then is it still literature? Maybe not. What about a parable, a story with the purpose of teaching kids moral values? If it's well-written and teaches "good" morals then everyone supports them, right? Like the tale of the tortoise and the hare. But if it teaches, I don't know, racism and violence, but is still well-written, is it still literature? You tell me, straw man: "No, it's not!" he might croak.

OK, let's be fair. Whether or not something is literature seems to be a matter of opinion, and so we can't expect that all definitions will be consistent.Here's what we've got so far: "Literature tells a story (well)." It doesn't have to be true, it doesn't have to be enjoyable, and it doesn't need to have any sort of purpose.

Any of you out there secretly love literature and want to stick up for it? Comment below.

Forrest's sarcastic book reviews: "A Man in Full"

Welcome to the first of what I hope will be many sarcastic book reviews. Today I will review Tom Wolfe's A Man in Full. Some quick stats:

pages: 742
year release: 1998
believable characters: 0.4
entertainment value: 0.0

I would start this paragraph off with a spoiler alert, but the book has no plot. Tom Wolfe uses "reporting techniques" to write this entire novel, and it shows. Almost all of the first two hundred pages consist of endlessly detailed descriptions of people and their places. I didn't get much further than that, but in order to pass the course I was taking I read a quick summary. If you don't include all the crappy description, the book is about four pages long. It's as if Tom Wolfe watched ten minutes of "Days of our lives" and decided to base an 800-page colossus on it.

"But," you might argue, "detailed descriptions have some merit!" Yes, if you're describing interesting or beautiful things. But not a dingy Atlanta apartment, with the sniveling tenant inside, who has a nose like a harpsichord and boots to match. The ceiling fan spins like it's got somewhere to be, but the grit on the door speaks volumes about the ...

It goes on like that for the rest of the book, and makes about as much sense. Squeezed between the inane recitation is the crude outline of a plot. A wealthy, behind-the-times southern businessman has financial difficulties, and then goes crazy and joins a fringe religion. Various other characters are also described. In fact the whole book seems to have been written with Atlanta readers in mind, with a shout-out to every dull neighborhood between Chamblee (northeast of Atlanta, GA) and Oakland (just east of San Francisco, CA). But it seems like a successful strategy. Get all the rich white people who have lived in, or who have relatives from, Atlanta, to buy the book. "Moving to Atlanta? Here's a great book that (I'm told) is about Atlanta!" or "You've never been to my homeland, Atlanta? Here's a great book you have to read before you come!"

Worst. Book. Ever.

Until the next installment of of "Forrest's sarcastic book reviews." Any suggtions?