The contemporary literary landscape is increasingly preoccupied with the perceived utility of literature. This emphasis on ”useful” reading material, echoing the historical comparison of the Bible to dry but nutritious bread, pervades literary awards, canon discussions, and debates about the relevance of nonfiction. The intensity of this focus has recently escalated, exemplified by the prevalent concern over declining literacy rates, often framed as a ”reading crisis.” This discourse raises the question: has literature become overly burdened by the expectation of practical benefit?

The rhetoric of literary utility is persuasive. Arguments for elevating the status of reading and promoting engagement with literature, particularly in response to declining literacy, seem inherently reasonable. The envisioned benefits, including potential improvements in mental well-being and societal progress, are appealing. This utilitarian approach could conceivably lead to prescribing literary classics as remedies for existential anxieties, effectively merging scientific and humanistic approaches. In a sense, this transformation of literature into a form of medicine, a tool for personal development and societal improvement, has already begun.

However, this emphasis on utility risks overshadowing other crucial aspects of literature, including its capacity for artistic expression, intellectual exploration, and emotional engagement. The analogy of repackaging common salt as a miracle cure highlights the potential for overselling the benefits of literature while neglecting its intrinsic value. While acknowledging the importance of promoting literacy and fostering a love of reading, it’s crucial to avoid reducing literature to a mere instrument for achieving external goals.

This focus on the ”usefulness” of literature has sparked a renewed appreciation for authors whose works defy easy categorization and resist being neatly packaged as tools for self-improvement. Philip Roth, with his often provocative and challenging prose, exemplifies this type of writer. His work, exploring themes of sexuality, identity, and cultural tensions, often clashes with contemporary sensibilities. Yet, it is precisely this unflinching engagement with complex and uncomfortable subjects that makes Roth’s writing so compelling.

Roth’s ”The Great American Novel” and ”Portnoy’s Complaint” exemplify the inherent tension between literary merit and societal expectations. These works, often deemed ”unuseful” or even offensive due to their frank depictions of sexuality and complex portrayals of identity, nevertheless possess a unique power that transcends conventional notions of literary value. ”Portnoy’s Complaint,” in particular, stands as a testament to the disruptive potential of literature. Its raw, unflinching exploration of male sexuality and identity, though potentially unsettling, leaves an indelible mark on the reader.

The enduring appeal of Roth’s work lies in its refusal to conform to expectations of utility or moral instruction. His willingness to explore uncomfortable truths and challenge prevailing social norms underscores the vital role of literature in provoking thought, prompting self-reflection, and expanding our understanding of the human condition. This exploration, however uncomfortable, ultimately serves a crucial function: it reminds us that literature’s true value lies not in its ability to provide easy answers or offer therapeutic comfort, but rather in its capacity to confront us with the complexities of our own existence and challenge us to grapple with the messy, often contradictory realities of being human. This willingness to embrace discomfort, to explore the darker corners of human experience, is precisely what makes literature a vital and enduring force.

Dela.
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