Defining Literature

by Bob Powers

with kibbitzing by Rod Amis

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Writing in prose or verse regarded as having permanent worth through its intrinsic excellence.

-- Random House Webster's College Dictionary, 1997 edition

A body of writings in prose or verse. Imaginative or creative writing, especially of recognized artistic value. "Literature must be an analysis of experience and a synthesis of the findings into a unity."--Rebecca West.

-- The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition, 1992

Writings in prose or verse; especially, writings having excellence of forms or expression and presenting ideas of permanent or universal interest.

--Merriam Webster's Encyclopedia of Literature, 1995 edition

No single definition provided.

--The Oxford Companion to English Literature, edited by Margaret Drabble, Fifth Edition, 1985

No definition.

--Funk & Wagnalls New Encyclopedia, 1996 edition

What is literature? As you can tell from the quotations that precede this column, defining it is as slippery as two naked women wrestling in oil. Literature to you could be Tom Clancy or even Stephen King. To the guy across the street with a degree from Harvard, only the rarefied, dead writers could be included as authors of literature.

Who cares about a definition of literature? Right now, damn near everyone in the writing business. The brouhaha began when writers Norman Mailer and John Updike weighed in on the topic in separate reviews of Tom Wolfe's current bestseller, "A Man in Full." In the high-falutin' magazine called The New York Review of Books, the irascible Mailer ate up tons of ink in ravaging Wolfe's first novel since the popular "Bonfire of the Vanities." Not literature, Mailer said loudly. Since Mailer has written some of the best books of the last half century (as well as his share of clinkers), his words must be taken seriously. If the author of what's considered the best novel of World War II, "The Naked and The Dead," says Wolfe's book doesn't qualify as literature, perhaps we should listen.

John Updike, whose series of novels about Rabbit Angstrom are among my favorites published in the 20th century, has declared, in the pages of The New Yorker (once respected as the epitome of magazine journalism and fiction) that "A Man in Full" is entertaining (with a few qualms here and there), but does not meet the standards that would qualify it as literature.

The best statement on defining literature came this week in an editorial page column by Verlyn Klinkenborg in the august pages of The New York Times. (And you can't get much more prestigious than to grace the opinion pages of the good gray Times!) In a clever, reasoned and mercifully brief essay, Klinkenborg disagrees with a 19th century critic who defined the main question of a novel as, "Did it amuse?"

As Klinkenborg points out, that's an "ironclad measure of entertainment, but not of literature." He opines that Mailer's and Updike's novels meet the standard of entertainment, but not always that of literature, and he doesn't question that both esteemed writers have reached that pinnacle several times in their careers. But, he points out, "Had Mr. Mailer and Mr. Updike declared that ‘A Man in Full' was literature, they could not make it so."

The writer's point is a good one. Literature becomes so by virtue of the passage of time. Why did Mailer and Updike decide to brand Wolfe as not worthy of the mantle of literature? Might it be a double case of jealousy. ". . . Mr. Wolfe has been maumauing the literati for the last 25 years," Klinkenborg says. Having made his reputation by writing non-fiction, Wolfe's move to the halls of fiction has upset two masters who believe they own exclusive rights to live in the mansions of literature.

Klinkenborg settles the question with this simple declaration: "Each of these men has written works of literature."

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Bob Powers writes "Powerssound" weekly for G21. He says his long-awaited novel, "While Birds Watched," when published definitely won't be classified as literature. But he thinks it's a good read.

____________________________________________________

The Kibbitzing Starts Here:

Bob,

Because you asked me to weigh in on this one in such a gracious and encouraging way, I'm breaking my own rule and saying something definitive about a topic addressed by one of our team.

This is exactly the kind of effete, intellectual pissing match that gives New York a bad name. Even though I live here, I can still see how silly this stuff is. Who cares if Mailer or Updike think anything is literature?

ANSWER: Just other bored wankers and Ivory Tower idyits with too much time on their hands.

"Literature"? I'm going to take the position of my hero, Henry Miller, a writer worth every bit of his salt for as long as he was at it, and say --- as HM did about that "bridge called 'Tomorrow'" --- too many people spend too much time striving and striving on that piece of crap and never get there. Why doesn't everybody just wise up and blow the fucker up?

I mean, how did this whole thing of putting one word beside another begin? Folks sat around the campfire, once they had left the caves, and if you told a good enough story you might get another cup of broth in appreciation for the entertainment.

The idea was to make it interesting enough and informative enough that folks didn't nod off during the telling. Maybe, just maybe, you could instruct your listeners about things like bravery, and integrity, and respect, and your little crew of struggling humans could survive and strive because of what you imparted.

Later on, monarchs and warlords came along and, if you were good enough at spinning words, you might not only get more food but a few ducats in the bargain, as well.

Problem was, if you screwed up, you might lose your head.

At some point, though, a lot of rich old farts got some leisure time and got bored, and came up with "literature," among many other totally foolish and irrelevant concepts. And that's about the same time that these same idyits asked themselves how many angels could fit on the head of a pin, I figure.

It's a disease that hasn't gone away.

Mailer produced some seminal work when he was "on." But this is the same fool who threw out that piece of drivel, "Ancient Evenings." Would that great waste of tree-pulp have ever been published if it didn't have the by-line (celebrity) Norman Mailer?

ANSWER: Are you kidding?

Updike's Angstrom series is celebrated to high heaven and, in some cases, rightly so. But he's produced some clunkers which wouldn't stand the test of a subway token if he didn't have the brand-name "John Updike."

My point here is that there is no such thing as "Literature."

There are writers, good and bad --- depending on the day and the piece.

On their good days, you get words that are incandescent.

You feel like they are reaching into the depths of your very soul. And your life might even be changed forever.

The same writer might produce something not worth a moment of consideration the next day.

That does not change, one whit, what he or she accomplished or will accomplish to contribute to our shared memories and heritage.

That's an important mandate and gift, not to be taken lightly.

But it ain't no more important than cooking a good meal, raising a child successfully, imparting a concept in a classroom, or building a good cabinet, and we don't have high-falutin' words for any of those arts.

A division tool.

Bob Powers is a freelance editor and writer living in Marietta, Ohio. He writes the POWERSSOUND and POWERSBOOKS review columns for the G21. His work also appears in Innerart/artbits; The Columbus Free Press; and Suite 101

Rod Amis has published G21: The World's Magazine on the web since March, 1996. He is a freelance writer and editor who resides in New York City. Mr. Amis' work has also been featured in the San Francisco Bay Guardian Online, NRV8, and Suite 101. He is the daily editorial writer for IT Manager's Journal, and writes a weekly column on working the web for Andover News Network.

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