In a “Well” blog of the
New York Times Health section (October 3, 2013), Pam
Belluck writes about a study, published in
Science, no
less, which concludes that "after reading literary fiction, as
opposed to popular fiction or serious nonfiction, people performed better on
tests measuring empathy, social perception and emotional
intelligence."
http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/10/03/i-know-how-youre-feeling-i-read-chekhov/?hp&_r=0
What is literary fiction? Its definition is usually in contrast to the
definition of commercial, or popular, fiction. Literary fiction is
usually described as "serious," concerned with excellent writing and
style, and often, though perhaps not always, portraying life as it really
is. Popular fiction is more concerned with plot and entertainment--a mode
of escape from real life. Literary endings may offer a resolution of
sorts but tend not to wrap things up in a definitive manner. Popular
fiction usually provides a definite resolution--e.g., a happy ending, good
triumphing over evil, a mystery solved.
Some cynics might add that commercial fiction, as the name implies, is more
likely to earn money for its authors, although sometimes a work of literary
fiction can become a best seller.
Cold Mountain is an example of
literary novel achieving commercial success.
My first reaction to the above-mentioned study was "Yay." I
generally tend to like literary fiction, especially short stories.
In a workshop I attended not long ago, one of the presenters made the
statement that "literary fiction is boring."
I looked at her and mouthed
"No." (She is a writer of light mysteries and probably earns
more money than I'll ever make as a writer.) The generalization that all
literary fiction is boring was unfair and untrue. My hackles were raised.
Lately though, I find myself having my own criticism of literary fiction--at
least, short stories that are classified as literary fiction. In reading
some anthologies of modern short stories, I noticed that many of the
stories are so dreary that they could, indeed, be called boring. Some,
I've found unreadable.
Is it possible to be serious without being dreary? I certainly
think it is. "Serious" and "dreary" are, of
course, subjective, so what I find serious and admirable, other people might
find dreary. What I find dreary, other people may find admirable, because
the stories are found in some annual anthologies whose editors chose them as
"the best."
I once taught a literature class about the short story. In the
beginning of the class, we discussed the difference between popular and
literary writing. The first story students read was "The Most
Dangerous Game" by Richard Connell. It is a classic of popular
writing, with a plot so well structured that it's been emulated in one form or
another over the years. It is suspenseful, enjoyable, and totally
unrealistic.
As we made our way through the course, we read a number of classic
stories--most of which would probably be considered more
"literary." Usually somewhere in the middle and again at the end
of the course, I asked the students to do short writing exercises answering the
question: Which of the stories you've read so far is your
favorite? And why?
They had to
explain their choice by using literary terms such as plot, characterization,
suspense, etc. in their answers. I also asked them to explain why they
considered the story to fall more in the popular or the literary category.
Inevitably, "The Most Dangerous Game" would get more favorite
votes than any other story.
Still, I would like to think that most of the students learned to appreciate
stories that had popular elements but involved more complex themes and subtle
character development. Some of the stories that elicited good responses
were: "How I Met My Husband" by Alice Munro; "Interpreter
of Maladies" by Jhumpa Lahiri; "Everyday Use" by Alice
Walker; and "Where are you going? Where have you been?" by Joyce
Carol Oates. (There are excellent films of the latter two stories
which definitely added to the enjoyment and understanding of the stories.)
The stories just mentioned are also some of my favorites. They have
serious, thought-provoking themes, round characters, and believable plots
--a
balance of these elements that I consider ideal. I don't consider
any of them
dreary.
I'd be curious to hear other people's thoughts on dreariness, or lack
thereof, in the modern short story. Drop me a line at
editor@crazylitmag.com.
