True statement pal. I hated literature in both high school and college. Why??????
Wellll, it’s a bit of a story. I love to read. I’m currently in Year 4 of the Harry Potter series. I’ve read nearly all of Louisa May Alcott (more than once), all of Jane Austen, almost all of the “A” section of my local library (youth classics from ages long gone), all of L. Frank Baum, several Newbery Award books, Hunger Games trilogy, most of Ted Dekker, half of the Anne of Green Gables series, and the list continues. I loved most of my stories/books assigned to read in my high school literature classes. I love reading classic literature. I love children’s books. I love journals.
It may be a bit confusing, though, that I love to read, yet hate literature. Oxymoronish, if you will. Yet, truth has been declared. What I hated about literature was the dissection of books/stories/poems. I always felt very assuming, intrusive, and arrogant when doing this. Who am I to assume what the author was thinking?? Who am I to say that there was a hidden agenda underneath the story’s plot? That the characters represented major philosophical perspectives? It always bothered me that literature books and professors wanted me to think this. I didn’t want to be a paranoid reader. I don’t want to be a conspiracy theorist.
Then I started thinking about how I would feel if someone made literary assumptions about me. I wouldn’t like it. Part of me, would really enjoy mocking the assumptions made of me. For instance, I chose to make a despicable character and someone decided that this represented the underlying disdain I have for whatever type of person or political system. In reality, I don’t actually think this far ahead. When I make a despicable character, it’s usually for good opposition. Nice people don’t usually make good opposition. But the mocking would get old, and then I would just be annoyed. Annoyed is not fun.
Like this situation:
When stuff doesn’t come out of a can that is clearly MADE to come out of a can, one gets annoyed. Canned goods should come out of cans. Makes sense to me. That is my annoyed analogy for the day.
The point is that I don’t like dissecting literature and making assumptions. I prefer to enjoy the story and learn from it what I will. That seems kinder to me. Plus, it lets me keep loving to read.