Art and Value: An Essay in Three Voices

I. When, through the power of emblems, I revealed to him fantastical cities formed from desire and fear, the great Khan baffled. Everyone else comes with politic accounts of maneuvering threats or the chance for precious goods. But me? I tell tales that arrive like stray thoughts to an idle man seated by the doorway of his home, taking in a little fresh air of an evening. "What does that serve for you, then, all that traveling?" he asks ("A che ti serve, allora, tanto viaggiare?" [Calvino, Le Città, 25]).

II: There are scenes in Premchand's Godān that persist in your memory. One concerns the young, motherless widow, Jhuniyā; her lover, Gobar; and Gobar's parents, Horī and Dhaniyā. Abandoned by Gobar, the pregnant Jhuniyā presents herself to Dhaniyā at Gobar's home. Dhaniyā goes out to Horī and explains what has happened. Horī initially says that Dhaniyā should never have allowed Jhuniyā to enter the home. He will return and drag her out.

When Horī enters the home, Jhuniyā throws herself at his feet, weeping. She calls him "Dādā," grandfather or elder brother. While the former act signals her respect, the latter suggests her vulnerability and attachment. The attachment is further indicated by the fact that she addresses him with the familiar "tum," rather than the formal "āp." She implores him, saying, "Now, except for you, there is no fixed place for me; kill me or cut me, but do not turn me away from your door." Horī's resolution dissolves. Seeing the helpless girl, he calls her "betī" (daughter) and reassures her. In Hindi, beyond the formal and familiar forms of second person address, there is another, intimate form, "tū." This is the form Horī uses with Jhuniyā, explaining, "Tera ghar hai, tera dvār hai, tere ham haiṃ" (152)—"It is your house; it is your door" and, literally, "it is your us." The last assertion suggests that, in the face of the communal rejection that is almost certain to follow, there are at least four people (Horī, Dhaniyā, and their two daughters) who will continue to include Jhuniyā in "we."

III: On first being asked Does Literature Matter? (e.g., does Godān matter?), someone who teaches verbal art is likely to have one of two reactions. The first is roughly the following: Literature is one of the most important and consequential aspects of human life. It profoundly affects what we do and how we do it. Unfortunately, its value is widely underappreciated. Writers in this vein may even go so far as to insist that literature is necessary for the health of our society. We may refer to this as "the Nussbaum response," since Martha Nussbaum is perhaps the most articulate and forceful defender of a view along these lines.

The other likely response is the precise opposite. It runs something like this: Literature is useless—and it's a good thing too! There is a lot of sanctimonious, self-congratulatory talk about how we are advancing society and making new, better citizens through reading John Milton and Zora Neale Hurston. But in fact we are teaching literature because we like literature and want other people to like it too. This contrasts strikingly with forms of study that have a practical purpose, such as weapons manufacture. We may, somewhat tongue in cheek, refer to this as "the Fish response," not because Stanley Fish has advocated this view specifically, but because it reflects his insistence on the community-relativity of evaluation.

As these responses indicate, the real issue here is not "Does literature matter?," but "Should literature matter?" The former is a purely empirical question. The latter asks for a justification. Indeed, when it comes to teachers and students of literature, even that question is not quite accurate. Rather, there are three separate questions. First, should verbal art matter? Put differently, is there any particular value to the works that are read primarily in classrooms? Second, should literary interpretation or criticism matter, whether practiced in professional publications or in classrooms? Third, should literary theory matter?

In considering these...