Why Study Literature?

Why is reading and studying literature worth the effort? This is a reasonable question to ask as you embark on the study of poetry, fiction, and drama. If it’s factual information you want, there are better places to search than within the pages of a novel or play or the lines of a poem. Writers of imaginative literature often stretch facts, play with historical events and characters, and even alter geography, but they do so in order to tell us something about ourselves and the world we live in. Studying a play by William Shakespeare (p. 720), a poem by early American poet Anne Bradstreet (p. 298), or a story by contemporary Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (p. 903) holds the promise of helping us to understand ourselves a little better. As we explore the motivations, actions, thoughts, and ideas of an author or the characters he or she created, we consider the issues at hand, weigh right and wrong, and contemplate how we would react. In the process, we learn something about ourselves. As individuals, we sometimes turn to literary texts to escape, to take a break from our current life or situation, to be entertained for a while. Such departures from daily reality help put things in perspective. Many find comfort in reading about the motivation and thoughts of others — how they respond to disappointment or confusion, come of age, deal with the joys and challenges of family life, or cope with conflict and change. In this way, we learn to empathize with people in situations similar to our own, as well as those in entirely different cultures, circumstances, and even time periods. Literature brings people together; it builds community.

 

Sometimes we look to our poets on state occasions to give us this sense of community. Several United States presidents have had poems written for their inauguration, including President Barack Obama, who invited Elizabeth Alexander to write and read a poem for his inauguration in 2009. The result was “Praise Song for the Day”:

 

 

How does Alexander ask us to think about the inaugural day? She emphasizes the common person (the woman and her son waiting for a bus, the farmer, the teacher) and alludes to the unsung heroes who built the nation, not only those who died for it but those who “laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, / picked the cotton and the lettuce” (ll. 27–28). She calls for optimism and hope in “walking forward in that light” (l. 43), but she also reminds us that we are writing history or that we have an opportunity to do so at a time when “any thing can be made, any sentence begun” (l. 41). An inaugural ceremony is what its name suggests — a beginning, an ushering in of a new era, a time of promise — and in this poem, politics and literature join to remind the nation that despite all differences of history, origin, and interest, we have a common purpose.

 

In short, literature reminds us that we’re not alone. We’re part of a community, an ongoing conversation that some call “cultural literacy.” These days, in a heterogeneous population amid a global culture, the very concept is controversial, yet there are certain authors, works, allusions, and even phrases that contribute to our collective identity. Even those who haven’t read Hamlet recognize “To be, or not to be” as a phrase suggesting indecisiveness. Even those who have not read the Bible or had a Judeo-Christian upbringing are likely to recognize references to the Garden of Eden.