My Apologies

Maggie Casey
Apology of Literature
12/03/08

My Passport is a Library Card:
A Defense of the Immeasurable Merits of Studying Literature


I am twenty-one years old. In my life, I’ve only lived in two towns. I have traveled a bit—to Norway and Mexico, and some parts of the United States that seem like a different country. I consider myself to be relatively intelligent, although perhaps reality TV stars and people who can’t find China on a map are not the best yard stick by which to measure myself. But how can I be a smart person when I’ve lived such a short, sheltered life? I’m majoring in English Literature—a language I’ve spoken since birth, which doesn’t seem too complicated. But if Literature were that easy, even if reading and comprehending a text is all that is required, then why do my friends in Biochemistry complain every time they have to read a book or write a paper? Perhaps it is because Literature is simple in its approach, and challenging in its application that it must be disparaged by those who do not excel at its practice. I would like to take the opportunity to defend my choice to major in English Literature and affirm that not only is it a highly educational experience but a spiritual journey as well.

Percy Shelly said that poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world, an idea that I believe to be true. What is history if not a piece of prose: it has voice, perspective, and a usually one-sided account of events. Movies are modern day theater and the most renowned playwright, William Shakespeare, is also heralded as the epitome of a writer (defined by Keats as Negative Capability). Through my education that has been focused on Literature I have learned about history, theatre, art, and contemporary issues (for who was not affected by Ishmael Beah’s A Long Way Gone?) I can read about science in David Quanum’s The Reluctant Mr. Darwin and learn much more than Darwinian theory. I can read a biography of Marie Antoinette and learn about a culture and sexism in addition to historical events. In reading Plato’s Republic, I learn more about literature than about his broader philosophy. In reading Don Quixote, I can enjoy a literal and comical farce about a wannabe knight errant or a multi-dimensional text about the different aspects of literary criticism.

The world is at my fingertips, quite literally. I can turn a page and be transported through time and space. What a valuable education I can get if I only read! But the questions always come, even to the most enthusiastic English Literature major: ‘what next?’ Yes, I’m capable of being voted MVP for the trivial pursuit game, but that’s not a career.

The questions concerning careers after undergraduate school often bombard all graduates, but towards the English Major I feel that the asker is genuinely curious. After all, what can you do with a degree in English Literature? No one seems to know. Maybe Matthew Arnold knows. Although his Essay “The Study of Poetry” focuses more on the relationship between Religion and Poetry, interpretations allow for a link to be formed between Literature and Education. Education, learning, questioning, is a way of life, the only way of life this undergrad student can imagine. While education is ultimately didactic, (what did you learn at school today?) a degree in English Literature is perplexing because it doesn’t seem practical, and is especially focused on aesthetic value. That’s why I’ve memorized “The Idea of Order at Key West”: for it’s aesthetic value. Matthew Arnold said, “For poetry the idea is everything; the rest of the world is illusion”. My world of poetry is real to me, as if I’m a confidant of Anna Karenina, or a guest at Gatsby’s party. My education is one of transportation; I learn through experiences that aren’t my own, but I’m learning more than I could if I were limited to everyday experiences.

English Literature majors and Don Quixote have a lot in common: our ideas are real, and we prefer to live in a world of books, instead of a world held together by the rough theories of physics. The world of chemistry and quantum physics seems made-up, to me: like the theory about soap bubble galaxies. The world I live in will not change with the discovery of another dimension or a greater understanding of Wormholes in time. My life is changed by words, symbols typed and printed on to the page, symbols of love, life, and beauty. “‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’ –that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know,”: so goes the last line of George Keats’ poem “Ode to a Grecian Urn”. My rather expensive and invaluable education has been directed towards learning this simple maxim. What I study is educational, analytical, and historical, but what I have learned is that there is no letter grade that can reflect the hours of joy I experienced from reading Don Quixote or the peace that I’m brought by reading the Touchstone lines of my favorite books. My education exposes me to religious experiences in literature; I could learn Accounting (if I were so inclined) but Literature is not something one learns, it is something that one experiences.

T.S. Eliot said, “We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” To piggy-back on Eliot’s genius, I feel that this quote encapsulates both my education and my love of literature. Reading is exploring, so whether or not I’m reading about Dorothy trying to get home to Kansas, I am changed by my own share in the character’s experience. I begin reading every night seated in the right hand corner of the couch; I have a cup of tea in my hand, my elbow propped on a pillow, and warm socks. When I finish my book, I’m sitting in the exact same spot with my legs curled under me and while the physical view hasn’t changed, the world looks different. The world is different. I am different, also, better; and I will never cease from exploration.