Personal Musings: On the Purpose of Literature

I have mentioned before that it is my position that literature has two main purposes: to teach and to entertain.  Furthermore, last week I concluded by saying that “quote,” which I shall show is really just an application of the two purposes.

I’m sure every one of you have heard of the idea of a story’s theme when speaking on what a story might be teaching, as it’s a word that frequents discussions of books, movies, art, and music.  Personally, I wish to avoid the term.  Yes, I have used the word in the past, even in past blog posts [link], but that does not mean I like it in general, as it is often mistaken for the story’s “meaning.”  To clarify, a “theme” is a recurring or prevalent idea while “meaning” is the message conveyed by the themes and other aspects of the story.  Everything about a story, its tone, atmosphere, plot, characters, writing style, word choice, everything can be used to teach, though what is used depends on the author.  Rather I think a more proper term would be that every story presents a worldview, or at least a piece of one.  Every story will try to teach a view or understanding of the world, most often that of the author.  Some understandings will be false, some true, but they will be there, and every tool of storytelling can contribute to the teaching.

To illustrate, I turn to Michael Ward in his book, The Narnia Code, in his chapter on C. S. Lewis’s first Narnia book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Ward describes in this chapter how Lewis intentionally used certain words and images to invoke a sense of warmth and life.¹  The red-breasted robin (always a good bird in stories, according to Peter)² and the presence of Father Christmas with his rosy cheeks, they both contrast with the harsh, cold, lifeless, joyless winter and point towards joviality and warmth returning and melting the dreadful ice that has captivated the land.  Furthermore, Ward points out how, in the most recent film adaptation, the filmmakers completely botched the winter scenes by making the winter itself much too beautiful.  Prior to Aslan’s return, everything is meant by Lewis to be harsh and hopeless, but when Aslan returns, warmth does as well.  Additionally, the story focuses on kingship, proper rulership, both in plot and symbols scattered throughout the story, and the conflict of the harsh, illegitimate ruling of the White Witch battling the true kingship of Aslan and his chosen kings and queens: Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy.¹  The worldview painted by Lewis is one where everything is cold and lifeless until the true King returns and brings life back to a barren and frozen land before establishing his rightful stewards to rule his land.  The worldview of the author, and what he wishes to  show of it, influences word choice, images, and plot.

Now then, I have just gone over how what each story is teaching about a particular worldview and how even something as fundamental as word choice can be used to that effect.  Here now I shall address perhaps the main objections to the idea of literature as teacher: stories have no meaning besides that which we give them and that there are stories without meaning that are only supposed to entertain (what could also be called the "it's only a story" arguments).

To counter both these claims, I say this: no matter whether intentional or not, every author becomes a teacher just by writing the story.  Merely in the act of writing, the author implies the story is worth communicating, and in communicating the story, the author will, whether by purpose or accident, attach meaning to the story.  Story is just one more form of communication, and communication cannot be without meaning, else communication, by definition, ceases to exist.

Consider this very basic story.  A little boy, let’s call him Billy, goes to the park, meets another boy on the swing set, Mark, and the two boys become friends.  Quite a basic tale, is it not?  How could there possibly be meaning in such a short story?  Actually, there is.  Within that story is the message, the part of a worldview, that says friends are good and desirable.  Just by having the two boys become friends, friendship is promoted.  Even in the most rudimentary story resides a fragment of a worldview.

Should we expand the story, this truth does not change, though the message presented might.  Say Billy goes to the park and becomes friends with Mark.  Then, when the two grow up, Mark starts hanging out with others and, whether in an act of betrayal or just negligence, leaves Billy behind.  If we end the story here, the view of the world presented might become “friends might seem good but will hurt you in the end.”  If we extend the story more, we can make it even more complex.  After the betrayal, let’s say Billy eventually meets others who become his friends and he returns to happiness.  Such events usually imply a happy ending, but, depending on such things as tone and word choice, it could also be a story where the implications point towards Billy finding friendship only to have history repeat itself, where those friends too leave, after which Billy will again seek out companionship only for it to ever evade his grasp, reiterating the second view of friendship stated above.  On the other hand, perhaps a third character and another friend of Billy’s, this one named Tim, rather than abandon him like Mark did, stands by Billy, comforting and helping him.  The view of friendship here is “friendship might end up hurting you, but it is still good.”  The point is, whether the story be simple or complex, it still presents a viewpoint of at least part of the world.

Now, please understand, messages can be written without the author realizing it.  In most of my stories, I have not thought about the lesson I’m teaching until after I’ve written at least some of the story.  Then, when I go back over the story, if I realize that the message projecting from the story does not match my worldview, I edit the story.  There is a limit to authorial intent.  However, the audience does not possess full power over the story’s meaning, either.  The winter pervading over Narnia does not become a wonderland just because the audience wants it to be.  Doing so sidesteps, and perhaps misses, the message towards which Lewis points.  This issue of misinterpreting comes either where the author has not been attentive enough to the material written and so inserts unintended or unclear messages, as with my own writing, or when the audience ignores the author and his work in favor of its own interpretation, as with the Walden Media movies.  We must be wary of both.

At this point, I think it necessary to move on.  I have spent so long on the proposition of literature as teacher because it has, and still is, contested.  My second position, however, bears little to no controversy:  literature as entertainment.  Every person I’ve met has thought books should be interesting.  In fact, it is because they think books boring that many people claim to dislike reading.  A good book must be an interesting one.  Now, that is not to say that all interesting books are good.  Additionally, I am not disregarding taste.  I’m not a fan of Edgar Allen Poe, but I admire his mastery of writing.  I love the story told by Victor Hugo in Les Miserable, but the books is tedious and, at points, utterly boring.  Two of my favorite authors are J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis, but my dad and one of my friends have no desire for fantasy.  A book need not be subjectively entertaining to be an excellent story; however, when a book does engage someone, it has at least done something right or touched upon some need of the reader, whether in writing style, beauty of the prose, the characters, the plot, etc.

When both these purposes of literature are done well, teaching and entertaining, we have before us what I think one of the most important things a book must do:  really good books prompt rereading.  A story in which one can only find entertainment, a shallow story with little substance, might bear a couple extra reads,  but its lack of sustenance will likely take its toll, especially should the reader mature, much like sugar cereal compared to quiche and omelets and sausage.  The excitement of a story can be lost, like a mystery already solved.  On the other hand, should the story be smothered in its teaching, it quickly becomes suffocating, and many times the book may never be finished even the first time, like a pancake drowned in a bottle of syrup.  Pure popcorn books and preachy books are hardly the stuff of excellence.  That is not to say that there is some perfect balance between entertainment and teaching.  Different authors will do one better than another and must find the balance for their own stories, even between different stories.  Treasure Island by Robert Louise Stevenson is a much more entertainment-focused book, an adventure tale, while his novella Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde contains more teaching, though not nearly so much teaching as a George MacDonald book, which MacDonald presents with better skill than his plots (in my experience).  My point is to say that truly excellent stories contains both teaching and entertainment skillfully done in skillful recipes.

Notice I did not say “classic” stories  Are there stories that teach horribly among the classics?  Yes.  Are there boring books that are classics?  Yes.  Are there books both boring and with terrible teaching that are classics?  Oh, yes.  I’m not at this point discussing the legitimacy of classics or the western canon, but rather books of excellence.  But why?  Why close by talking about excellence?  Wasn’t this post about the purpose of stories?  Yes, and that is why I must end with excellence.  I am a Christian, and I am a writer.  As a Christian, I am called to do everything as unto God, and as a writer I am called to teach, whether consciously or not, and entertain my reader.  Because I am a Christian, I must fulfill both these callings, to the best of my ability, by writing with excellence, because God deserves no less, presenting true teachings with engaging writing so as to bless my readers.  If teaching and entertaining is the purpose of story, then doing so with excellence is the purpose of the Christian story.  Any book written by a Christian that fails to do this fails its purpose. 


¹Ward, Michael.  The Narnia Code: C. S. Lewis and the Secret of the Seven Heavens.  Oxford: 
       Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. 2005.  Print.


²Lewis, C. S.  The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2004. 
      Print.