What Makes A Classic?

A tradition in my high school included seniors signing squares on the block walls in various classrooms. Sometimes they just wrote their name and graduation year, others wrote funny quotes from that class, or if they were artistically gifted, drew a little picture or cartoon.  I think I mentioned this several years ago in a post about judging literature. Throughout my junior English class, while confronted with a list of "supposed" classics, some of which I really disliked, an idea sparked in my brain that I kept stored away until a year later when I could come back and sign that wall. I picked a block right next to the clock so students would read it everyday. It read:

"What makes a classic a classic? You Do!"

 

For those who have been with me awhile, my love of literature is no secret. I love Shakespeare, as seen in several posts on his works. I love the scriptures and the words of living prophets. I love the power of words and believe profoundly in the influence they have in our lives. Most recently, I vented about how the common core is eliminating classic novels in the curriculum. All of the linking is to back up my claim of a passionate relationship with literature. After all, this is me. (This is kind of fun- making you go back and read previous posts from over the years : )

 

Back to the classics. What defines classic literature? This is probably the most endless and unsolvable discussion in the literary world, but why? Why does it matter that we have a set definition or group of novels that falls perfectly in this category? Besides the potential revenue for an author that reaches classic status, why do we feel the need to categorize? Perhaps part of it is that we want to know and understand this base of common knowledge seemingly shared by the world; references in t.v. shows, movies, the news, and daily conversation are all steeped in a background of literature with the assumption that, in general, people will connect to that. It's a way we connect--to each other, to the world, and to brilliant or inspired thought. Maybe another element has to do with helping readers know where to start. As a writer and a reader, the sheer volume of printed ( and now electronic) works is overwhelming. Where do we even start? So to help that out, educational systems and scholars began creating the "Western canon"- a collection of literature (as well as art and music) that has been a large influence in shaping western culture, that has the greatest artistic merit. However helpful this can be occasionally, it seems to have created more conflict. At times, from certain perspectives, the canon can seem like a haughty elitist bunch. I prefer to think of the canon like the Pirates Code- more like guidelines than actual rules. And finally, I honestly believe that in reading literature, we define and discover ourselves. Whether we like or agree with it, the very act of deciding whether we do is enlightening.

 

 

Considering all that, whichever reason or combination of reasons that push us to define classics, there can be several different groups of what can be called "classic". Lowest on the totem pole there would have to be a group some refer to as classic due to the age of the material, i.e. classic Greek. The erudite scholar tends to shy away from labeling priceless scripts anything so common as "old" when "classic" sounds so beautiful. But there is an element of truth here, that ancient texts like Plato, Aristotle, Voltaire, etc, offer a unique and much needed perspective; advice and insight that has remained true throughout time has given many a reliable base. Goethe once said that “Ancient works are classical not because they are old, but because they are powerful, fresh, and healthy."

 

If you read forums and readers boards, common answers to this question include "universality", "timelessness", "truth", or "stylistically unique or perfect". In 1850 Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve crafted an insightful response: 

 

“The idea of a classic implies something that has continuance and consistence, and which produces unity and tradition, fashions and transmits itself, and endures…. A true classic, as I should like to hear it defined, is an author who has enriched the human mind, increased its treasure, and caused it to advance a step; who has discovered some moral and not equivocal truth, or revealed some eternal passion in that heart where all seemed known and discovered; who has expressed his thought, observation, or invention, in no matter what form, only provided it be broad and great, refined and sensible, sane and beautiful in itself; who has spoken to all in his own peculiar style, a style which is found to be also that of the whole world, a style new without neologism, new and old, easily contemporary with all time.”

 

I love that!- "is one who has enriched the human mind, increased its treasure, and caused it to advance a step." There is not just one singular requirement for a classic; you must look at impact and import, as well as style and content. For example, while I enjoy Uncle Tom's Cabin, I recognize that it is a fairly mediocre novel in and of itself. However, the far-reaching and explosive effect it had on the United States before the Civil War launched the novel to a place among the classics. And then there is Maus, a graphic novel depicting memoirs of the Holocaust, which took a unique approach and captured the world. On the other hand, you can look at Tolstoy's War and Peace or Anna Karenina-- stylistically complex and beautifully written, but in recent years I find fewer and fewer people are reading his works. What I'm trying to say is that there is no cut off, set in stone criteria, disqualifiers, or stipulations.

 

Perhaps the most well-know essay on the subject was written by Italo Calvino in the 1980's in which he famously said, “A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say”. To a degree, there is a desire and envy to create something that is never finished, that is relatable for your great-great-great grandchildren. But in the end, I think it truly comes back to what I wrote on my high school wall- what makes a classic a classic? You do. Knowing what I know now, maybe I would've written something about the difference between canon and classic, taking time to read those novels even though you hate it, and deciding for yourself. But that would be a little long for a block. Calvino says, "There is nothing for it but for all of us to invent our own ideal libraries of classics." Like the way I have read Little Women until the covers fell off and every page is smudged and earmarked. Or how Penelope from the self titled book and movie loves a book written by a "little no one".

 

What are some of "your" classics?

 

 

 

 

First Love

I've thought a lot about why first love burns so bright, so fast, and why it hurts so much. And I realized that it's the first time we are learning to give a part of ourselves away. Everyone we love is given a part of us and will have a spot in our hearts. That's why we remember loved ones who have passed on, best friends we've lost touch with, and boyfriends who didn't work out. But our first love, for however long it lasts, somehow has your whole heart all to themselves. And even long after it's over, that love can be found in unexpected places. I love what the author, Tammara Weber, said about first love.

“Something about first love defies duplication. Before it, your heart is blank. Unwritten. After, the walls are left inscribed and graffitied. When it ends, no amount of scrubbing will purge the scrawled oaths and sketched images, but sooner or later, you find that there’s space for someone else, between the words and in the margins.” 

A part of you will always wants the best for them, no matter what happened or why it ended because they loved you and you loved them before everything-when there was no past, only a future. There is something pure and magical in their underlying presence throughout our lives.

Like many first attempts, it is hard to get it right the first time. Not the passion, or the emotion of it--but the timing and the longevity. It's new and exciting, scary and exhilarating all at the same time. One just wants to be loved and doesn't really worry about getting hurt or holding back. I wonder too if the world would be better if we could always love like that. Yet often, with our first love we lack the patience and perseverance to make it last. Some do. Many don't. Passion is a powerful thing, but in the long run it pales when pitted against the need for trust, commitment, and patience. And first love like that-- hot, bright, and fast--burns the soul and creates the foundation for all future relationships.
 

"Your first love isn't always the first person you kiss, or the first person you date. Your first love is the person you will always compare everyone to. The person that you will never truly get over, even when you're convinced yourself you've moved on."

I was lucky enough to have a love like that once. Five years ago, eighteen years old, I thought I held the world in my hands. Standing here looking back I realize it still aches and I'm coming to accept the fact that it might always, just a little, because after all, that is the nature of first love. Fortunately, I've been able to love since then and I know I will be able to again, but he is the one I still think of when I sit under the stars and hear a love song. One day, when I love someone even more, I know he will drift further and further back in my mind. I'll always want him to be happy, for him to have everything in this life. This week he had his first child. I hope that baby has his beautiful eyes.

Beautiful Earth Day

There are just some moments that steal your breath and take root in your heart forever. Usually, the most profound are also the simplest. And in honor of Earth Day, I wanted to share some beautiful snapshots of the incredible beauty that is our Earth. This wonderful world of ours has the ability to transform public areas and attractions into something so uniquely personal it actually becomes a separate snapshot amid the millions of public photos. A memory, an experience, or a beautiful connection is all is takes to make an average park bench, or graveyard, or stretch of highway into the most amazing spot on Earth.

 

There is a rather unremarkable sidewalk in the suburbs on Houston, sandwiched between equally ordinary homes. But it was the location of angelic protection as two young missionaries poured out their hearts in prayer to Heavenly Father.

 

 

 

There is a large tree among a grove of identical ones nestled in a cemetery in the corner of a sleepy town. It overlooks the two graves of people I dearly love and the grass around those headstones are well watered with tears. It's no Mother Willow, but maybe it is since it has heard more than just my rambling and more than once held me up when I needed it most.

 

A balcony washed with warm sunlight greets the new day, saying to all who step foot into the magical world that today is a day of possibilities and wonder. The glorious sunlight blinks with the promise of a new day without any mistakes yet. It makes me ready to start each new day.

 

Thank you Earth for giving me part of yourself to hold in my heart.

Creativity Takes Courage

The French artist, Henri Matisse, once said "creativity takes courage". Like buying a whole gallon of True Lemon Yellow to paint my kitchen/dining room. They also say that the only true gift is the gift of oneself. To truly create something original and unique, you must give part of yourself. To honestly create something beautiful and authentic, the heart and soul are required ingredients. So it is often that the best ideas are also the scariest ideas because it demands a vulnerable heart and a revealed soul. This kind of creation includes the sharing of innermost thoughts and feelings and with that comes the possibility of rejection or ridicule. Creativity takes courage. How many of us have faced rejection just as we reveal our most heartfelt feelings? Well, just about every young love. But that's another story. Actually, it's a part of this story.





Why am I sharing all this? Because I have started a new project. Or rather, I am taking an old project and sharing it. For the past ten years, I have written letters to my future husband and kept them tucked away in a letter box for him. And now, I've decided to put these letters into a book and share the greatest love story I've ever known (Granted- I'm a little biased, but honest.) It started off as a checklist for what I wanted in a husband and morphed into love letters. Along the way, it became a journey to discover who I am and to find love- in all areas of my life. So, in the coming months I'll be looking for friends that want to do a little editing, a little reading. Let me know.

 

One Little Leaf On A Big Family Tree

 

As a little girl (and now as a grown woman) I loved bedtime stories, or anytime stories really. Fairy tales, folk tales, adventures and misadventures. Growing older, there was an increasing desire to relate to the characters, for a sense of reality. Don't get me wrong- I love fairy tales. But there is something special in knowing it is a true story, something that happened to someone real, someone relatable. (Unless, of course, you have magic powers like my friend L, and then fairy tales are like genealogy, just all mixed up)

 

I remember clearly when my family was given a binder of stories and genealogy on my mother's side. My wonderful aunt had put it all together for all her siblings and it is now a family treasure. I didn't understand the significance of it fully until years later, but there were stories and photos, poems and records. Every genealogist's dream.

 

In college, they introduced indexing to my student ward and we went after it with a fury. I took all sorts of classes and training on indexing, FamilySearch, and genealogy. But then life got in the way. I got sick. Family situations came up. And I let family history slip to the back corner of my mind. It wasn't until just a few years ago as I was preparing for my mission that the family history bug came back for me. In my packet, it asked me to prepare and bring a four generation pedigree chart with me to the mission. I knew a lot of that work had been done, so I went onto familysearch.com and printed it out. Seeing those names again brought back that spark, that desire to connect with my ancestors. In the months before leaving on my mission I started researching again. I starting finding out who I was missing and what records I needed. With that little spark already ignited I left on my mission.

 

That spark soon became a full blown bonfire as I started to incorporate family history into my mission. I starting teaching other members how to get started, sharing the opportunity with those who just started learning, and worked on my own on preparation days. My excitement kept growing as I was able to have more and more incredible experiences, both with the work for others and my own family. The Spirit of Elijah is alive and well.

 

There are moments when I'm searching for an ancestor and find all these records that might fit. I look through them all, using all my detective skills, and it usually comes down to a prompting. More times than not, one record or name will keep coming into my mind and a peace comes over me as I start to connect those individuals. And those sweet moments during the research process are only compounded when the names are taken to the temple. Often I can feel their joy and excitement for the opportunity to receive these vital ordinances. There is something magical in feeling so connected to my ancestors; even when I can't find exact stories about them, I can see evidences of their faith and perseverance. The more work I have the privilege to do, the more I realize that I'm just one small little leaf on a huge family tree. In fact, the work never ends. We are part of an eternal family and this desire to connect to someone real is the Spirit reminding us that there is work to be done to help our brothers and sisters. So let's put our shoulder to the wheel!

Words From Heaven

As many of you are already well aware, General Conference is tomorrow and Sunday. YAY!! Seriously, I'm fairly certain I have a slight obsession with Conference. Since last October, I have read, watched or listened to a talk from conference every single day. Some people watch a favorite movie over and over, others have their favorite heroes plastered on their wall (Facebook or literal), and yet others can quote hilarious T.V. shows from dawn til dusk. And while I might claim a least some part in the three former habits, my true heroes are speaking this weekend. I mean, who wasn't inspired when Elder Oaks, quoting President Monson, declared,

"Let us have the courage to defy the consensus, the courage to stand for principle. Courage, not compromise, brings the smile of God’s approval. Courage becomes a living and an attractive virtue when it is regarded not only as a willingness to die manfully, but as the determination to live decently. A moral coward is one who is afraid to do what he thinks is right because others will disapprove or laugh. Remember that all men have their fears, but those who face their fears with dignity have courage as well.”

 Furthermore, were our hearts not touched with sympathy for President Monson's loss and changed by the gentle whisperings of the Spirit? From empowering talks like "You Can Do It Now!" and "The Strength to Endure" to comforting assurances in "I Will Not Fail Thee...", revelation was given as 'the dews from heaven'. In his discourse on Sunday, President Monson himself remarked that the conference was one of the most inspiring he had attended.

Last Conference, I was a full-time missionary in Houston and now I'm living in my own apartment in Gilbert Arizona. To say life has changed in many aspects for me would be an understatement, but no matter where I am or what I'm going through, the Lord always sends the messages that I need. I've been preparing and anticipating for months and tonight is the final countdown. I will prepare snacks and meals for during conference, put together my conference bag with scriptures, notebooks, pens, and a blanket in case the chapel gets chilly.

Plus a little poetry to get in the reflective mood : )

 

As I walk out my door this morn,

the heavenly dew glistens,

with my feet turned toward the chapel

and my heart tuned to listen.

Oh, what will they say?

a little voice wonders.

About love, hope, and faith

or learning to repent of my blunders.

A pen poised over the pages

waiting, just waiting,

to receive wisdom from sages.

As the countdown is muttered,

ten, nine, eight, seven...

arms open wide to catch

words falling from heaven.

 

Happy Conference Weekend!