While looking for some books on my Banned Books Project list, I decided to check out the back wall of the store. Yes, that wall. The one under the sign in beautiful script which clearly states I am now approaching the “Literature” section.
Great works by Pat Conroy, William Styron, Edwidge Danticat, and others are found in the Fiction Section. But the likes of Toni Morrison, Truman Capote, Daniel Defoe, John Steinbeck are found over there.
Not that it’s such a trek really. But in some other places I frequent, it’s akin to doing a weird literary version of Red Rover. (Please don’t make me explain what that is. Google it. It’s bad enough I showed my age by making such a reference.)
Initially, the term literature was a general one applied to the “art of written works”. In recent times, it’s commonly used to denote works of fiction and non-fiction, many of these works being recognized as classics; those from the Western canon; award winners such as Pulitzer, Booker, and Nobel.
But who decides this? And how? Isn’t this process subjective, therefore making it forever flawed?
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