Literature - some thoughts

 

Literature. For some a mild detergent to wash off the smut and dirt of everyday life and then bask and roll in the clean sheets of imagined, exciting worlds of stories and tales of others, to help smooth the leisure times and liberate from the daily grind, the dreary jobs, the tasks, duties and obligations.

Literature. One of the great art forms mankind evolved out of the simple need to tell a tale. There is such an abundance of tales to be found, of main themes, their variations and the variations of variations, boundless reiterations who never seem to tire. Almost everyday a new invented tale joins the cosmos of already existing ones and is hungrily welcomed to satisfy the innate curiosity and the need for ever and ever new tales.

Literature. The main nourishment seems to be failure and the joy in its description. Failure in honesty, in self-awareness, in cognition, in recognition of others, failure in kindness or judgement. Morbid acts of cruelty, of murder, of greed, of stupidity, of hubris or misunderstanding are played out and gleefully consumed. 

Literature. It thrives on the weakness, the feebleness, the easily corrupted human mind. It thrives on the banality of reality and what we make of it. Without us there would not be literature and without literature mankind would be so much poorer.

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