Burning Books

This is not about Bradbury’s novel, but it does have a great deal to do with governing institutions and how their powers dictate whose books are read by the world or left to rot in drawers. 

If he were to will it, A. would rather have books by brilliant writers—who perished before they were widely appreciated—burned to never be read by the public again. He believes publishers and everyone today do not deserve to read such great works of literature. The way he sees it, our society continues to propagate the same system that rejects poets and novelists that create important and revolutionary books. 

Think about it, every century has a roster of maligned geniuses way ahead of their time. A. finds it hypocritical and pretentious that the "same" institutions, critics, writers, academics, publishers (publishers most especially) even have the gall to laud these dead writers today. Not everyone forgets how all they ever did was reject and throw scathing remarks at these writers when they were alive.

One such extreme case is that of novelist John Kennedy Toole, the author of “A Confederacy of Dunces” (which I've yet to read). Toole approached many publishers to accept his manuscript yet none of them could understand his brand of tragicomedy. As history had it, presses didn’t bother to give him a chance. When frustration and depression finally took its toll on the young writer, Toole committed suicide in 1969 (he was 32). Upon learning this, A.’s exact words were “How could the world do that?—He died thinking he was a horrible writer.”

Struck by grief, Toole’s mother continued to submit his manuscript to various publishers. With the help of his friend writer Walker Percy, “A Confederacy of Dunces” was finally published in 1980, almost twenty years after Toole’s death. The book won the Pulitzer Prize in 1981 and is now revered as one of the most a canonical works of modern literature about the Southern United States.

http://www.jktoole.com

http://thebooklion.files.wordpress.com

Another case: Herman Melville's popular classic “Moby-Dick” (also another book I’ve yet to enjoy) was not well-received when it was first published in 1851. It gone out of print by the time Melville passed away in 1891. Nevertheless, today it is considered a brilliant classic and one of the greatest American novels of the twentieth century.

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Yes, it’s possible to be a writer and not be read in your lifetime. I can go on and on about writers who didn’t enjoy much recognition for their masterpieces. Try to find “The Monk” by British novelist and dramatist Matthew Gregory Lewis and you’ll marvel at one of the finest gothic novels written in the English language. If you’ve ever come across works by Chinese poet Li-Po (also known as Li  Bai, some say he’s arguably more brilliant than Tu Fu, but unlike Tu Fu, he wasn’t popular when he was alive), French poet Charles Baudelaire, and American poet Emily Dickenson (who probably just published 3 poems in her life), then you stumbled upon treasures that humanity almost shunned and never found. 

We devour one book after another and yet we don’t know how much suffering some of these writers had to endure while they were alive. 

A. maintains that none of us deserve to know of such beauty; if the world truly wanted to help its writers, it should reward them while they are living. In an ideal world, institutions should help keep artists from going poor and hungry. Perhaps in another universe there must be a Xanadu where artists can stay true to their craft without being neglected and shunned by society. But at the same time, somewhere in my heart I know one cannot produce great art by staying in a “place of comfort." It is the fate of artists and writers to understand human suffering well enough to create art.

Drinking Alone by Moonlight by Li Bai

A. said to me, “Do you agree? If I were to have it, society should burn these books! We don’t deserve them.”

He, WE, feel strongly about this issue, though I took the opposite position: I said no.

I understood how A. felt. As writers, we scoff at the idea of powerful institutions that publish minor works over books that have the potential to stand the test of time. If it were to happen to him, A. would choose to keep his book to himself—this is how he shows defiance, this is his way of rejecting the world that continues to drive true writers and artists mad.

“But that wouldn’t be right,” I said to him. “I would however keep them away from the publishers who rejected them. It's wrong how they continue to earn more just by reprinting their works.”

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It’s not this generation’s fault many authors were not read when they were alive. The existence of beautiful books by neglected writers are a testament to the injustice that pervades the publishing and writing enterprise (I say this exactly because I believe it mustn’t be driven exclusively by capitalism).

If more people read these books, whether they write masterpieces or not, their lives will be richer for it. It is also my hope that a good reader may be inspired to continue writing important literary work. Who knows, perhaps some of them can even change the goddamn system. It’s a long shot, but it has to start somewhere.