Good post at The Reading Experience, "Safely Ensconced," on a statement by Steve Wasserman regarding the dependence upon the old, already pronounced as worthy literature: "The best reading experience is to occupy your time with the worthy dead rather than the ambitious living."
In a roundabout way, this matter is something that has confused me for a long time, and one I want to solve by learning to read–thus the discussions at The Great Lettuce Head of late.
Admittedly, I am more secure as a reader when given a textbook of literary compilation, than when I critique at workshops. And while I subscribe to at least four of the major literary journals (and who has named them "major"?) I am conflicted by doubts in evaluating the stories within. Are they "good" or did they simply appeal to a particular editor in time?
Which brings us back to the question of good or bad literature. We can dislike what has been labeled assertively as good, just as we can like a piece that has been derided by reviewers as poorly written. A "bad" writing can certainly have redeeming values, just as a "good" one can have flaws. Shall we then say that nothing is good nor bad? If nothing is bad, then nothing is good, no? I mean, fair’s fair after all.
But don’t we need some measure, something established by general consensus? Else, would we say that a four-year-old is necessarily all right in believing that a heavy bag of 100 shiny copper pennies is worth more than a handful of 100 crumpled hundred-dollar bills? It is not necessarily a fact–depending upon one mis-struck penny within that bag, but the odds are with us that the bills are worth much more. That is general knowledge. Can we do this with literature? Or, shall we consider any story written just as good as one by Jonathan Cheever.
This is what I seek, some form of criteria with which to read and decide, well frankly, if something is outstanding or not worth the effort, whether I agree with the end result or not. And all the while, learning how to write well as a bonus. What is the criteria for literature, and how many different forms does it take? Certainly, there are elements of writing to look for, there is grammar, spelling, punctuation, but if one breaks the rules, such as McCarthy, wouldn’t he be banned in Boston if he were judged by that alone? Must a book have redeeming social value? Is there a current trend? Is it a countable matter of sales–sometimes simply sold by clever marketing.
We can come at literature so many ways, and a review of contempory work may or may not hold up in time, or is often subjective–very often subjective. But even beyond this perception, there are some basic generalities that are being applied.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology