Transcriber: Thu Phương Hoàng Trần Reviewer: Alexey S.
Thank you.
In an age of global pandemic,
social isolation and the dominance of digital technology,
what benefits could there be to reading dusty old tomes of classic literature?
Plenty.
Exposure to well articulated ideas and rich narratives is always valuable,
no matter the media.
But if you’re looking for a way to spend a little time
that will be rewarding, engaging and even enlightening,
then I argue reading classic literature,
maybe a paragraph, maybe a page,
but in an actual book is both practical and profound.
A classic work is defined by a few key characteristics.
The work addresses an enduring issue of the human condition,
either explicitly or implicitly, and considers ambitious questions.
Classic’s are generative.
Their themes and subject matters inspire consequent contemplations
and personal reflections alike.
The writing is carefully constructed, dense with information,
and requires effort to read and interpret.
Lastly, classic literature is instructive.
The work's present an argument in response to their fundamental questions.
And there is, of course, no one answer.
It’s the combination of all these traits.
The broad scope of the inquiry, the wealth of existing interpretations,
and the layered and complex language
that allow for unique insights to be gleaned
by different people upon multiple readings.
Much classic literature is, quite frankly, old,
written anywhere between 70 and 2500 years ago.
You'd be justified in wondering how archaic works could still be relevant.
But the subject matter is timeless.
We still discuss the meaning of life.
So why not consider what the earliest writers had to say about it?
Furthermore, to earn its appellation as classic, time is requisite.
If we want to know concretely whether or not something is worth reading.
Generations of review and praise from experts
and recreational readers alike is a credible process of determination.
Let’s break it down a little.
Classic’s often present moral clarity
as these works examine our fundamental nature
and argue how we can or should coexist.
Reading them provides two commentaries,
both the external markers of a good society
and the internal exploration of personal experience.
Take this 2000 year old line from the ancient Greek philosopher Epictetus.
Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle.
Some things are within your control and some things are not.
Here, Epictetus economically presents an arguable thesis
on how to achieve some of our most fundamental human desires.
And it’s a statement we can appreciate
on a cerebral level that also has pragmatic applications.
Think of the current state of the world.
Disturbing developments, looming lockdown’s
and the wide ranging implications of the pandemic
serve us an abundance of angst.
But our individual part in the global situation is minimal.
While it’s critical to stay informed and engaged,
these concerns shouldn’t be an emotional burden.
To be panicked over giant crises only reinforces a sense of powerlessness,
focusing on our individual efforts,
observing protocols and dedicating headspaces to friends
and family pranks practical agency.
Classic novels examines similar issues
through the toothsome potential of good stories,
but a deterrent, however, might be the language.
It’s dense, it’s complex, and it requires effort to understand.
Yet, this is central to the layered nature of classic literature.
The writing allows for different meanings to spring forth,
when phrases are considered in different contexts.
Intricate language expands our vocabulary.
Beyond learning new words,
the works impart rich and varied ways of communicating.
Exposure to these nuances of language is all the more useful
in our age of quick tweets and texts.
Because the writing is so precisely packed with information,
even a single paragraph contains an idea worth knowing.
Reading a snippet can impart useful knowledge
and proffer a small dose of lyricism.
Here’s a line from Richard Adams Watership Down.
“Many human beings say that they enjoy the winter,
but what they really enjoy is feeling proof against it.”
Though when initially opaque statement,
you can readily infer a commentary on human ingenuity.
We’ve progressed from a world
where winter meant the end of harvests, starvation and death
to one where heated homes and imported food
leave us nigh impervious to its influence.
This extends to the psychological point on feeling proof against it.
To think we have overcome the laws and boundaries of nature
fills us with feelings of importance.
It says that we have significance in this world.
All this in just a handful of words.
Today, classical literature is available in many media.
The Internet provides a multiplicity of notes, summaries,
video shorts and audio books that offer some time efficient
and commute compatible choices.
But physically, reading a material book still holds unique benefits.
Recent MRI based neuroscience studies concluded
that reading strengthens both short and long term information processing,
transference and critical thinking.
And on a more poetic level, disconnection ushers in calm.
The weight of a book and crisp turn of a page
offers sensory decompression, a moment away from
the glare of blue light and the constant clamor of headphones.
Because, of course, much of our media is digital.
Quick videos on YouTube,news updates on TV
and posts on social media colonize our retention.
But even a few minutes of reading will reap rewards.
So the most resonant endeavor is to investigate
the works that have been renowned for a panoply of years,
have articulated some of the greatest human thought,
and are brimming with information and often beauty.
Luckily, these books are easy to find.
A quick Google search will reveal dozens of established canons.
You probably find something already on your bookshelf.
So when you get the time, you needn't plow your way through thousands of pages.
Open a book at random and read a paragraph or two.
See what happens next.
Thank you for listening.