Alec Smart once said 'Classics are books to be appreciated but never to be read'. And yesterday I turned the last page of another classic muttering, "I don't get it." Somehow, almost always when I surf through an English literature defining work, the same words come back to haunt me. Then Wikipedia and Sparknotes come and rave about how the novel/novella/short story is one of the most 'seminal works of fiction', how the 'all-encompassing fluidity is scintillating' and the 'liberally used poetic license alleviates the story' and more cockmoonish pie.
These are always met with a straight faced 'Really?'
Literature students and old school believers will be quick in dismissing this post as rants of a half baked. Maybe I am indeed half baked. But riddle me this- how is talking about the scales of an insect sitting by the windowsill absolutely unrelated to the story add 'layers of breathtaking details' to the story?
Quoting from a Kafka story,
'As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was laying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.'
Where is the unexpected impact just before the period Kafka is so famous for? Why is it that this paragraph is dissected to fill reams of stationary?
Last year, I had a brief tryst with English Literature as a part of my curriculum. The most recurring question that came to me was, "Did they have underground PR agencies at work? Are these people hallucinating of an oasis?" More than once I have felt that these critiques are more intelligent than the work itself.
Illustrations:
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: One day, a salesman wakes up and finds that he has turned into a Ungeziefer roughly translated as an insect from German. The novella goes on to talk about how the family rejects him eventually and waits for him to die.
Verdict: Stretched and sad. No storyline and exasperatingly unnecessary details.
Saki or H H Munro: I have read extensively of his works. My personal opinion is the guy makes a nice start and somehow always screws up with a vague, pointless end. His works are not ‘macabre’ as described and needs to be worked upon. A lot. One of the biggest disappointments is 'Tobermory'.
Catcher in the Rye by J D Saliger: You guys already know about it. I have eminently hated that one.
Nikolai Gogol: Yes, the one from where the famous quote 'We all come out of Gogol's overcoat' emerged. I always felt his personal life was more interesting than one of his supposed best works- The Overcoat.
The much celebrated Dickens: Whether it is 'The Tale of Two Cities' or 'Oliver Twist', Dickens strikes to be a disillusioned optimist writing in a bar two drinks down. These two novels reeked with whines and depression.
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Catch 22 by Joseph Heller: Atrociously slow and dead read, both of them. There are only a handful of novels you pick up and can’t finish. These are two such kinds for me.
Due to such experiences, I have a reason to believe that I enjoyed Robinhood, The Three Musketeers, Robinson Crusoe, Great Expectations amongst others is I read the abridged versions. The shot-down list goes on with Frances Burnett (The Secret Garden) and Hemingway (Old Man and the Sea) amongst many many others. And the only reason that they are so celebrated is coz we were taught to praise them. Times change, people.
But then, I am not an anti classicist. I hold huge regards for Roald Dahl, Erich Segal, Shakespeare, 3 writers whose works are filled with genuine ingenuity. The list goes on to include R K Narayan, Mark Twain, Sir Arthur Canon Doyle and the unforgettable P G Wodehouse. You see, all these writers had a USP. Dahl had that of creating delightful events and slick pace; Segal had a divine vocab with extremely witty dialogue; Narayan gave out the Indian rural fragrance and Twain had a knack of unforgettable relatable characters. P G and Shakespeare are world renowned for being good at what they are. And it is such uniqueness that made them palatable.
Maybe the fault lies with me. My list of classics is not very extensive- I'm still to read The Stranger, Frankenstein, Emma (if that comes to be the only book existing), Lolita, H G Wells (I read him in high school and don't remember much) and the modern ones like Khaled Hosseini and Salman Rushdie. Also, I'm a guy with more of contemporary tastes feeding on King, Palahniuk and graphic novels of late. Hence the obvious difference of opinion.
So maybe it is the difference of tastes. Or maybe I'm indeed not grown up enough to comprehend the 'underlying metaphors'. Whatever be it, I will be the most delighted person the day I 'get' such stuff. Till then, for me, many classics are abominably overrated.
These are always met with a straight faced 'Really?'
Literature students and old school believers will be quick in dismissing this post as rants of a half baked. Maybe I am indeed half baked. But riddle me this- how is talking about the scales of an insect sitting by the windowsill absolutely unrelated to the story add 'layers of breathtaking details' to the story?
Quoting from a Kafka story,
'As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was laying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.'
Where is the unexpected impact just before the period Kafka is so famous for? Why is it that this paragraph is dissected to fill reams of stationary?
Last year, I had a brief tryst with English Literature as a part of my curriculum. The most recurring question that came to me was, "Did they have underground PR agencies at work? Are these people hallucinating of an oasis?" More than once I have felt that these critiques are more intelligent than the work itself.
Illustrations:
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: One day, a salesman wakes up and finds that he has turned into a Ungeziefer roughly translated as an insect from German. The novella goes on to talk about how the family rejects him eventually and waits for him to die.
Verdict: Stretched and sad. No storyline and exasperatingly unnecessary details.
Saki or H H Munro: I have read extensively of his works. My personal opinion is the guy makes a nice start and somehow always screws up with a vague, pointless end. His works are not ‘macabre’ as described and needs to be worked upon. A lot. One of the biggest disappointments is 'Tobermory'.
Catcher in the Rye by J D Saliger: You guys already know about it. I have eminently hated that one.
Nikolai Gogol: Yes, the one from where the famous quote 'We all come out of Gogol's overcoat' emerged. I always felt his personal life was more interesting than one of his supposed best works- The Overcoat.
The much celebrated Dickens: Whether it is 'The Tale of Two Cities' or 'Oliver Twist', Dickens strikes to be a disillusioned optimist writing in a bar two drinks down. These two novels reeked with whines and depression.
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Catch 22 by Joseph Heller: Atrociously slow and dead read, both of them. There are only a handful of novels you pick up and can’t finish. These are two such kinds for me.
Due to such experiences, I have a reason to believe that I enjoyed Robinhood, The Three Musketeers, Robinson Crusoe, Great Expectations amongst others is I read the abridged versions. The shot-down list goes on with Frances Burnett (The Secret Garden) and Hemingway (Old Man and the Sea) amongst many many others. And the only reason that they are so celebrated is coz we were taught to praise them. Times change, people.
But then, I am not an anti classicist. I hold huge regards for Roald Dahl, Erich Segal, Shakespeare, 3 writers whose works are filled with genuine ingenuity. The list goes on to include R K Narayan, Mark Twain, Sir Arthur Canon Doyle and the unforgettable P G Wodehouse. You see, all these writers had a USP. Dahl had that of creating delightful events and slick pace; Segal had a divine vocab with extremely witty dialogue; Narayan gave out the Indian rural fragrance and Twain had a knack of unforgettable relatable characters. P G and Shakespeare are world renowned for being good at what they are. And it is such uniqueness that made them palatable.
Maybe the fault lies with me. My list of classics is not very extensive- I'm still to read The Stranger, Frankenstein, Emma (if that comes to be the only book existing), Lolita, H G Wells (I read him in high school and don't remember much) and the modern ones like Khaled Hosseini and Salman Rushdie. Also, I'm a guy with more of contemporary tastes feeding on King, Palahniuk and graphic novels of late. Hence the obvious difference of opinion.
So maybe it is the difference of tastes. Or maybe I'm indeed not grown up enough to comprehend the 'underlying metaphors'. Whatever be it, I will be the most delighted person the day I 'get' such stuff. Till then, for me, many classics are abominably overrated.