Tag: literature

There is no point in reading unless it is to make the material one’s own; and that is rarely achieved on a first reading. Therefore, assimilation requires rereading and returning to what first caught one’s attention. That is why the intellectual must spend a good deal of time planning and implementing his personal method of organization. Notes and highlighted passages must become a living part of one’s study routine: they must be at hand when needed, and always in plain sight to prevent them from falling into oblivion. It is a matter of rereading them methodically and seeing that, with this practice, they take root within oneself.

The great interest that epistles generate today stems primarily from the fact that this is a form of literature that is no longer produced, and that they sometimes reveal the most intimate content of certain works. Here, above all, lies their greatest appeal: through letters, we can discover an author who may only reveal himself in the deeper layers of his work, but whose understanding is essential. It happens, however—and it is regrettable to note this—that we do not always find the sincerity we seek in the letters. And we clearly realize that they were written with a view to later publication. The style, thus, loses its appeal; an uncomfortable feeling arises that we are being deceived. And our interest wanes…

What can be said about the study of literary theory is the same as what can be said about the study of stylistics: both contribute and are valuable to the writer who takes his work seriously. They provide him with the means to creatively express whatever he may wish to say. But they will not help him find something to say. Nor will they make his themes more interesting. Nor do they constitute an essential field of study. The study of grammar, indeed, is fundamental and should not be neglected. A true writer who has mastered it, however, can very well produce great works while remaining completely unaware of the subject matter of those stimulating but overrated disciplines. In fact, that is what all writers did until the 20th century.

A literary genius is he who manages to capture and express, in his own way, the inner nature of things. He is the author whose work, upon first reading, evokes that sense of rediscovery Lavelle speaks of, which seems to shed a new light on something we already knew but that lay hidden within us. Then, through that unique and memorable expression, we definitively claim it as our own. Only the truly great can provide this kind of experience.