Literature Is Life

Time for another post on some of my academic thoughts and research. Among other things, my upcoming book entitled Self-Help in the Digital Age: TED Talks, Speculative Fiction, and the Role of Reading delves into... the role of reading. Obviously 😅

One argument I developed and continue to work on is this: reading makes us feel alive. It may seem evident, but it's not always obvious when you read arguments about the uses and functions of literature.

We often focus on how literature enables imaginary journeys, teaches us about our thoughts and feelings, and even about our humanity. However, feeling alive isn't solely a human experience; it's something we share with other beings. And it's often overlooked in literary debates that remain deeply humanist at their core. But also, we tend to overcomplicate things, and I sometimes feel that the real journey of discovery involves learning or relearning the obvious.

So, when we discuss reading and feelings, we typically mention empathy. Literature makes us feel empathy, and that's true, but it goes beyond that. Empathy relies on something you resonate with, something you've experienced or lived through. Literature does more than that; it builds on your previous experiences, creates connections, and shapes new experiences. It's more than empathy. If you want an example for what I mean, see also my post on "tree experiences."

Photo by Loredana Filip

Feeling alive is one connection that is particularly fruitful, extending to other beings as well. It's different from wonder, happiness, or joy. This is why I coined the term "affect of aliveness" to make this explicit - it's a blend of feelings that aren't strictly positive or negative but a mixture of all at once. This includes an emotional spectrum we've only just begun to explore, and it encompasses pain, grief, sorrow, and solace.

When I say literature makes us feel alive, it also means it reconnects us with our bodies, which we often neglect. Most of the time, we're trapped in our heads, lost in an endless train of thoughts. Literature has the power to disrupt our cerebral dominance. Yes, you heard it right. The practice often associated with "I think, therefore I am" is no longer privileged or separate from bodily existence. Embodied awareness is a crucial part of my thesis, but I will leave this topic for another post.

For now, I'll stop here and leave you with this beautiful scene I noticed these days. My toddler has been "writing" lately. She claims to write, and it looks different from her previous scribbles and drawings. She even shows me where she wrote "baby" and other stuff. And this is what her writing looks like:

Toddler writing © Loredana Filip

Yes, like a lifeline.

Isn't it fascinating how our first attempts at writing resemble a lifeline?

This is such a beautiful metaphor for how literature is life. Something I will keep emphasizing here (and comes up again and again, see "Writing with Chalk," which begins with the following quote from one of my short stories):

Quote by Loredana Filip