Dorothy Noyes Blurring Boundaries: The Separation of the Classical, Popular, and Representative
Classifying literature: picking and choosing, dissecting the works of
authors and pigeon-holing them into a category where we, in our infinite wisdom,
feel they belong. That has always been my biggest problem when it comes to being
a Lit major; the apparent need to classify and assign merit to a piece of work
only applicable to the classification it was given. When I read a piece of
literature, whether it be traditionally categorized as classical, popular, or
representative, I try to separate that classification from my reaction to it. It
was both comforting and liberating to see the sub-heading over the three
categories on the course website: “These categories are not mutually exclusive.”
That simple phrase let loose a lot of frustration I had been holding inside
about the classification and rating system I had seen previously put into action
among Literature classes and class-mates alike.
Classical literature is traditionally defined as the literature that has
a long life-span, is accessed by more educated individuals, and really
challenges previous schools of thought and ideas. While I find all of these
characteristics accurate, I think the most prominent aspect of “classical”
literature is what makes it ultimately popular as well: its applicability to the
lives and feelings of those who read them. When you read a piece of work that is
characterized as classical, you’re usually reading about something that is meant
to evoke deep emotions and change the way you feel about the world and yourself.
Classical literature, as it is defined, becomes personal literature as one tends
to apply it to themselves. Emily
Dickinson’s poetry, when found and read became popular because of the aspects of
the classical that it presented. Who couldn’t, on some level, relate to the
questions of loneliness and the struggles with identity and fear of death that
Dickinson expresses in her poetry? Her work created larger questions and
examined deeper meanings to common emotions, but at the same appealed to the
general public because it was relatable.
Popular literature tends to get a pretty bad reputation in the classrooms
and conversations of literature students and, as an avid reader of any type,
this has always offended me a little bit. As a rule, I feel that for any book to
have ever become a classic, it had to have been popular enough for people to
read again and again, taking the time to infer the deeper themes and meanings of
the works. If those books had never been popular literature in their own right,
they would not exist to be read and re-read on the shelves and in the many
anthologies they are a part of today. In my opinion, it is in the ability of a
piece of popular literature to withstand the test of time and shifting frames of
reference that allows it to ever become a classic.
The implications of calling a book “popular” are that a reader will infer
automatically a shallowness to the text and perhaps not deem it worthy of
reading. By definition, popular books are passing fads, only relevant to the
time in which it was written and a reflection of current public situations. It
is considered easy to process and will typically leave you with nothing of true
worth to reflect upon. Basically what my mom would call “cotton candy for the
brain.” This categorization, however, is not only demeaning to possible great
pieces of literature, it simply can’t be one-hundred percent true of any one
work. Take for example, Washington Irving’s
Rip Van Winkle. While considered a
wildly popular work at the time of its publication, it is not simply a shallow
story. It is a tale that concerns the preservation of identity and tradition in
a rapidly changing society, which is a theme that is relevant and important as
well as being entertaining within a story. Irving, like many authors of the
American Renaissance, is just another example of the lines between categories
blurring and losing distinction.
Representative literature crosses the boundaries of what defines both
classical and popular literature as well. While it is the emergence of a new
voice and population in the literary community, it is not only relevant to the
culture it was originally aimed towards. By reading representative literature by
authors like Frederic Douglass or Sojourner Truth we are not only reading the
words of influential minorities, but are reading a reflection of the human
condition, and a journey involving struggles and pain, but ultimate fulfillment.
Taking a more recent example, Toni Morrison is a favorite author of mine
who is represented by every one of the categories. Her works such as
Song of Solomon, Beloved, and
Paradise were books with classic
themes and revelations, books that examined not only gender differences and
racial tension of the South, but the constant struggle for understanding of
one’s self, and did it beautifully. However, her induction to Oprah’s Book Club
caused her timeless books to be deemed “popular,” thus belittling her epic and
moving works of fiction.
Taking all of the works this semester, and looking at them in light of
recent revelations, I think it is fair to say that none of the literature we
have read can fit snugly and solely into one particular category. Personal
interpretations among individuals and the passing of time and relativism simply
won’t allow it. With a willingness to blur the boundaries that separate these
categories from each other and instead feature their similarities and what binds
them together, not only literature students, but the general public can benefit
by reading and experiencing works they might not have previously. By building
walls we limit ourselves, but by breaking them down we set ourselves free.
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