Notes from a much loved class

In a world deferred of meaning, the presence of literature becomes not a luxury but a necessity. It is that site of truth conjured by the human consciousness that can enable the human beings to overcome their aporetic understanding of the world and hence escape the rubric of horror that is the actual life. A novel is not just a mere binding of pages. It entails disturbance. Disturbance in this context is understood as the tear in the fabric of the metonymic mode of existence of life. It is the method through which the impossible can be achieved. The modern world has today become resigned to practical living. The eyes do not look up to reach for higher ideals but focus instead on living “as it is and not as it should be”. A book however is un-resigned, it doesn’t accept rather meticulously engages in the creation of another life ensconcing truth, dignity and beauty – all things subordinated in the apparently not the brave new world. In this regard there is another term that begs definition and that is the imagination. The imagination of Coleridge represents the unifying faculty of the human mind that can form a synthesis of the dissipated forms in a focused march towards meaning. It is from this “laminated singleness” that novel arises from. And where does non-fiction fit into this picture? Non-fiction functions from the intellect that can discern the temptation of the impossible. It sifts through the carnival of nonsense to contribute knowledge to the world. Entailing informed reading of several fields this form rises above the narrow denominational stupidity of the lived world and embarks upon the journey to surrender to the impossible.