Losing Context

I'm living in a snow globe today. Thick, soft snow is falling gently, silently blanketing trees, shrubs, cars. It's our first real snow of the season, and though we probably won't end up with more than 2-3", it's still a delight. I just hope the roads are clear enough for the guys to get home safely from work or school.

I had a virus last week, and spent a little time doing some light reading. Two of the books I chose were 80-100 years old, and as I read them, I realized that modern readers have little context for the type of conflict that consumed the characters in these novels. This lack of context can seriously affect our appreciation of the tales.

One of the books was a typical cozy mystery, and the main character, Miss Silver, is a Miss Marple-like older lady who knits while making sharp observations of those around her. I can picture her as I read, because I remember a pair of similar-appearing older ladies from my childhood. If I didn't have that context, though, the character would simply seem unreal, making the story unbelievable.

The second book presented a situation that I initially found ludicrous-- a cruel husband banishes his wife, and she is forced to take refuge in another man's house. She is so mortified by this that she spends most of the rest of her life in a convent. While this probably was an early version of a Harlequin-type romance, readers of the time probably had enough context to empathize with the character. I'm afraid I just couldn't get into it.

Sometimes "light reading" is too light to be worth the time and effort it takes to see into and through the cultural changes. I find it interesting that truly great literature-- Chaucer's Canterbury Tales or Shakespeare's plays, for example-- don't seem to suffer quite as much from contextual shift. Chaucer's Pardoner stands, century after century, as one of the most odious religious charlatans ever encountered, and Shakespeare's Lear inspires a gamut of emotions, from outrage to pity, as he wends his foolish way across the page. And is there any heart too hard to be moved by Jean Valjean in Les Miserables?

Great literature is challenging, but worth it. It is great because although costumes and accents may change, the deepest human emotions are evoked in a way that rings true across centuries. Lighter fare-- twinkies for the mind-- nourishes the soul about as well as junk food does the body. An occasional snack won't kill you, but a steady diet of fluff will rot the mind.

I'm over my virus now, and looking forward to weightier fare, both for mind and body. But it will have to wait until I throw a snowball or two!