What makes a book a classic? (According to me)
The Classics List
In a previous post, I discussed why I
read classics. Basically, I read them to figure out whether they deserve all
the hype that surrounds them in my opinion. Therefore, take what I’m about to
say with a grain of salt. Feel free to let me know what you think makes a book
a classic in the comments below. I’ve been going through a list* of classic
books from the book and website A Thomas
Jefferson Education by Oliver DeMille. My mom bought the book at a
convention years ago, but, as with most books my mom buys at conventions, never
got around to reading it. To be fair I haven’t read it either. The only reason
I remembered the book was because my dad read it to pass the time as I had
karate class. He mentioned to me, when he was finished reading, as we headed
out the door to the white and tan Ford truck, that at the back of the book was
a list of great books I should read.
When I had finished the last book
curriculum for high school, I wanted more books to read, but lacked a list.
That’s when I remembered A Thomas
Jefferson Education; the list seems comprehensive enough. The one I’m on
includes authors from Aristotle to Shakespeare to Machiavelli to Newton.
According to their website, “A “classic” is a work — be it literature, music,
art, etc. — that’s worth returning to over and over because you get more from
it each time.” That definition is nice, but it is a personal decision of mine
to fail to reread books in favor of reading more broadly. Could I get more out
of the books by reading them a second time? Of course, but with my limited time
on earth I would rather read more books than reread the same ones.** So how do I define a classic?
What isn’t a classic?
The easiest way I can see to do this is
to go through why the latest book I read, On
War by Carl Clausewitz, isn’t a classic. Clausewitz is the 23rd author on the list alphabetically, but I
decided that it isn’t a classic. At first I was inclined to think that the book
was indeed a classic. In Book 2 (of 8), Clausewitz made a distinction between
the art and science of war or of anything for that matter. According to him,
Science is the facts, the “knowing” certain premises of Math or Astronomy,
whereas art is acting. “All thinking is indeed art. Where the logician draws
the line, where the premises stop which are the result of cognition—where judgment
begins, there art begins.” (1) Naturally, people can disagree with this
sentiment of Clausewitz’s. You could argue that most of the time people don’t
mean that when they mean art. However, no one can deny the utility of the
conceptualization of art and science that Clausewitz proposes.
With such a great start, I had high hopes
for the rest of the book. Nonetheless, Clausewitz only wrote a war genre
classic. Did Clausewitz write insightful, and even clever things about war such
as, “All war presupposes human weakness and seeks to exploit it.” and “War is merely the continuation of
politics by other means”? Undeniably, this is true. But Clausewitz didn’t write
an 8-book monster on war that was applicable to people not interested in war.
It Must be Applicable
This brings me to what makes a classic: the
work must be applicable (or have impact) outside of its genre. The only other requisite for a work to be
a classic is that it must fulfill its set out objective. Let me explain. If
Clausewitz had managed to write a book that applied outside of the genre of
“How to: War”, but hadn’t written something that gives thorough advice “How to:
War”, then it wouldn’t be a classic (in my opinion). This may seem obvious, but
many people would consider a book such as The
Old Man and The Sea by Ernest Hemingway a classic. I will admit it is
applicable to people outside of its narrative structure and has a “moral” to it
if you will, but what that is “Perseverance is a Universal Law” (2) or “Everything you strive for is
meaningless” or some other moral is debatable. But it fails to be a fiction
story. Let me break it down for you (spoiler alert): A old dude goes fishing,
catches the fish on page 25, and spends the next 100 pages trying to reel it in
and bring it home as sharks devour the entire thing. The book ends with him
collapsing onto his bed malnourished, dehydrated, and overall worse off than he
had set out, as his young friend, apprentice-like figure, watches and weeps.
That isn’t a good story. It isn’t even a
good sad story. It doesn’t masterfully manipulating your emotions and loyalties
to make you feel for this fisherman. He doesn’t have a stunning inner monologue
that makes you understand his life or even really his current struggle. Here’s
a taste of his dialogue with himself.
“Don’t
be silly,” he said aloud. “And keep awake and steer. You may have much luck
yet.”
“I’d
like to buy some if there’s any place they sell it,” he said.
What
could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a
brokenknife and two bad hands?
You could argue a man trying to think
about what he will do with a fish once he reaches the shore isn’t interesting.
You could say it gets better he gets surrounded by sharks trying to eat the
fish. Oh really? Here’s his thoughts, as he’s surrounded by sharks.
“Now
it is over, he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do
against them in the dark without a weapon?”
The
Old Man and The Sea has
all the thrilling of a character who believes they have no agency in their life
and is a piece of driftwood floating up and down in the waves sometimes getting
dashed against rocks, but not really caring because this is what happens. It’s
fate.
I Purchased a Story...
...and you gave me a moral. The book must accomplish its goal
well; however meager that goal may be. This doesn’t mean that the main character must accomplish
their goals, by all means make them suffer. But if the book is a fiction book
it must tell a good fiction story. In its search for a moral a philosophical
quandary to leave its readers with, The
Old Man and The Sea forgets to tell a good tale. If you ordered a chocolate
milkshake and the restaurant gave you for your $5 the most important thing
their kitchen staff had learned about working with other human beings and lukewarm
horribly chunky milkshake with a hole in the bottom of the cup, you’d be justifiably
disappointed and wanting your money back. You hadn’t purchased the life lesson
with your chocolate milkshake, not that you didn’t appreciate it and the
discussion it produced, but they didn’t even deliver you the good old chocolate
milkshake you purchased.
An Example of A Classic
Bastiat’s The Law is an excellent example of a classic, not only does it
discuss the law, as Bastiat sets out to, but his advice is applicable outside
of the legal system. “Life, faculties,
production [what humans make]--in other words, individuality, liberty, property
-- this is man. And in spite of the cunning of artful political leaders, these
three gifts from God precede all human legislation, and are superior to it.
Life, liberty, and property do not exist because men have made laws. On the
contrary, it was the fact that life, liberty, and property existed beforehand
that caused men to make laws in the first place.” Again you can disagree with
his sentiments or his use of the word ‘God’, but you cannot deny the fact that
his statements are (1) applicable outside of the legal system and (2) are about
law.
Finally, though, as I noted at the
beginning of this post Clausewitz made some points at the beginning of his
mega-monster of literature On War that
adhere to both of these tenets, but they were anomalies. The rest of his book did not apply outside of
war. This is probably the most subjective part of my classic selection process.
I determine how much non-applicable moments restrict a book from being a
classic, and how well or skillfully the book accomplishes its goal. However, if
a book passes those 3 criteria
1. Applicable outside of it’s genre
2. Accomplishes its goal well
3. Neither of the two are outliers
then
I consider it a classic.
Notes:
*
Actually several lists 1. Family & children, 2. youth, and 3. adult
lists. I'm on the third.
**Again
feel free to disagree
Sources:
Post Picture: "Books" by Guilherme Tavares
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