Literature vs. History: Part 1

Hello Everyone,

I've been thinking a lot lately about the difference between, and the relative merits of, English and History (can you tell I'm a student?). That is to say, literature and history. I'm a lover of both, and I go through phases where I consider one or the other to be more important or more philosophically valuable, but ultimately I just can't decide. Which holds more truth? Which is the more philosophical? Which is more worthy of study and consideration? Literature or history?

If you would have asked me this question any time within the last few years, I wouldn't have hesitated to blurt out, "Uh, literature!", before laughing at you. I spent a great deal of my time (at least I intended to) reading the great works of fiction my various fine English classes had to offer, and frankly considered history to be irrelevant, stupid, and a huge bore. Where else but literature can you learn about Happiness and Ignorance than from Huxley's Brave New World? Where else can you learn about the paradox of civilization than from Conrad's Heart of Darkness? And what of Camus and his mediations on Existence and the Absurd with The Stranger (my favorite novel)? "You can't learn about any of these truths from history!" "Don't be an idiot!" This is what I would have said to you (or at least thought about you).

But then I remembered something that is seemingly obvious (but often forgotten) about literature: it's bullshit. That's to say, it's a lie. You can say a lot about literature, some of which is debatable and some not, but we can all agree on this: literature is nothing but lies. It's all made up. Now, the obvious next thought is that literature is a compilation of lies aiming for the truth. An author's intent is of course not to lie to you (the reader) but instead to convey some kind of truth or message through lies. But the word "truth" can be tricky: after all, any "truth" being portrayed in a work of literature isn't the truth, just a truth (more specifically, the author's truth). And that is all that can be truthfully be said about literature. I think people often lose sight of this fact, and take what they read for some kind of universal truth. It of course isn't and can't be such a thing-it's just one asshole's opinion. In fact, this asshole's (excuse me, author's) opinion or truth isn't even as noble or pure as that, because the mere fact that he or she is taking the time to write a novel to convey such a truth obviously means they're attempting to convince those who read it of that truth! What if this truth is of political nature, or what if this truth is some other kind of propaganda? This muddies the waters even more, does it not?

Everything I've just said it quite obvious, but it is also not often forgotten? When you pick up a novel, you're not picking up a gateway into any greater understanding of the world, but merely one person's attempts to convince you of what they'd call (in the best of times) a greater truth. None of this is to say that you can't learn from literature. This all is merely a warning and a reminder to think about what you're reading, and to think hard about what you're reading because you are reading a lie, and a lie about a world that doesn't exist (but a lie hoping to measure up to a world that does).

More to follow in Part 2...

Chice