Harsh opinion, but if someone says “I like/read classics” with no additional clarification, I don’t trust them in terms of actually knowing what kinds of books they like. The more they insist that “classics” are “superior,” the more that trust diminishes. And it’s not even really because of the pretension that tends to haunt those phrases. Rather, it’s because it doesn’t actually mean anything.
Someone says they’re a science fiction reader, that makes sense. They like books that focus on the effects of advanced technology. A lesbian prefers books with Sapphic main characters. Reasonable. She likes seeing her own identity reflected in the books she reads. If someone highly prefers books written in the last twenty years, there’s a logic to that. A lot of social issues have changed, and a person might just struggle vibing with these older mindsets. They might find it too much of a hindrance for a hobby engaged in for fun.
But what does a book being a “classic” actually mean?
In the Penguin Classics line, you’ll find everything from the Odyssey to Frankenstein to East of Eden. These are all dramatically different books of different genres from different points in time. The only thing that links them is that at some point we decided they were culturally significant enough to get passed down from generation to generation. And that cultural decision is full of biases favoring white American and European men. You simply can’t trust that it’s actually giving you all of the best of the best from each generation. There does come a point in which a book can very easily loose elements of its relevancy. It’s not an iron-clad positioning within the literary ranks.
And if any of these aforementioned books came out this week all at the same time, you wouldn’t be expected to like them all or at least like them in the same way.
So to my mind, a few different things are happening with people who say they “only read classics” or “only like classics.”
1.) They aren’t using the term “classics” in the marketing sense correctly. They like 19the century English literature, but don’t have the wherewithal to be specific.
2.) They don’t actually universally like classics, and they’re reading them for other reasons.
3.) They do actually like the vast majority of “classics” they read, but for whatever reason they haven’t realized that transfers into modern literature just fine. If you like a wide of variety of classics, you’d like a wide variety of anything from any time period.
In the end, it feels like a bit of intellectual hypocrisy to claim a preference for literature that’s passed through a series of cultural filters without participation in those cultural filters as they’re happening. To me it feels like being told what to read by the zeitgeist instead of actually developing your own palate. It’s really no different than making your reading choices based on the NYT Bestseller’s List or Oprah’s Book Club.
Do you but consider the social and intellectual implications.
And the reason this is such a strong feeling to begin with is because I’m such for reading classics within your preferred genre. That any genre devotee can get a lot of value from exploring the pillars of their genre.
And that’s why I think making a distinction between “classics” as an umbrella term and “genre classics” and discussing their implications as a reader is so important.
A “genre classic” is establishing, from the start, that you’re addressing a set of books that you already know you enjoy. We’re beginning from a place of specificity. We’re still putting individual enjoyment at the center of the conversation. Genre classics are also an entirely set of different books than overall classics, and do different things for both the history of literature and the individual reader.
So what I would much prefer to see is a transition from like “classic literature” to “literature that does x.” And with that a better appreciation for genre classics, and opened mindedness for the self-sequestering classics reading community.
Pixels and Pins Studio 