Read and Digest

Even though a lot of what was shocking in 1925 ceases to be in 2013. But classics are defined classics for a reason and by and large all the certified greats are usually outstanding reads. But there’s no accounting for a reader’s subjective opinion. Fitzgerald’s contemporaries such as Ernest Hemingway and TS Eliot gave it an enthusiastic thumbs-up,but sales were lacklustre and reviews were tepid at the time. It was only in the ’50s,a couple of decades after its publication that The Great Gatsby really caught on.

Why is it that some classics continue to fascinate us after 200 years while other equally good ones languish unopened on our bookshelves and fade into oblivion? The world’s preoccupation with everything Jane Austen wrote endures; there have been countless makes and remakes of Pride and Prejudice but very few of an equally fine or even better book: Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina has remained relevant but I don’t hear anyone ever mention The Brothers Karamazov. Tolstoy’s intimidatingly sized War and Peace is regarded more like hard labour or a cruel punishment,which is a real pity because the story of Pierre,Natasha and Andrew is truly timeless. This would alarm purists but I’ve often wondered why some savvy publisher doesn’t edit out the maddeningly long war parts,and War and Peace would be a huge hit again. Nobody cares what Napolean’s soldiers ate during the Crimean War. Having said that,Tolstoy is at the top of his craft in this masterpiece and his insights into war strategy are mostly engaging. But we just don’t have the time for every little detail. And readers shouldn’t be deprived of War and Peace because the editor wasn’t thinking two centuries ahead.

The ethics of publishing have changed and so have marketing tactics. Authors now have to contend with fake likes and planted reviews on social media cleverly posted with the intention of manipulating public opinion. But I firmly believe you can’t keep a good book down. It will find readers,eventually,just like The Great Gatsby did. Many of us give into expectations of what we “should” be reading — trendy titles,mind-altering and mood-lifting even,horror of horrors,socially conscious reads. If you even have any feelings of “should” regarding a book,chances are it’ll sink to the bottom of your pile,never to be retrieved. The book becomes a tiresome chore,a little like how we feel we should exercise more and eat less sweets.

I can only speak for myself: I have freed myself of any “list” and choose my books whimsically,based on my mood. I read only and solely for pleasure. I have decided life is too short to waste time on any title that’s boring me after the 10th page. I merrily abandon books midway or sometimes skip entire chapters. (Tip: insomniacs should pick up a copy of Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall. It works better than any sleeping pill ever invented.) I don’t read non-fiction or biographies about exceptional individuals and their fortitude followed by success and self-realisation. They just end up making me feel bad about myself. I’m sure I’m missing out by limiting myself to copious amounts of crime fiction,graphic novels,comics and similar escapist reading. At some point,I will address the several skeletons on my bookshelf. Before I die,I swear I’ll try George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty Four one last time.

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