Today’s Wisdom and Happiness class touched on something I hadn’t quite put into words before: that reading literary fiction builds empathy.
I used to read a lot of fiction. More than I do now. At that moment I wondered if that’s where my sensitivity comes from. Not a weakness, maybe. I once told a friend-reading all these things feels like I lived through many lives.
At some point, it became too heavy. I simply felt I’d had enough. Non-fiction feels more practical -as if it can help you navigate the world better, regardless of whether you fully understand it. It tells you how to play the game more effectively.
Fiction, somehow, started to feel almost embarrassing to admit to- as if losing yourself in imagined worlds, letting emotions run through you, was something to be ashamed of. Especially in the environment I find myself in, where that’s not quite the mainstream.
But perhaps that’s also not quite right. I’ve learned from both. The great works of fiction often go deeper into human nature. Some questions that data and theory cannot answer, however you still have feelings about them, whether you like it or not.
We’ve spent two classes now talking about love and relationships. I found what Dostoevsky wrote about love in The Brothers Karamazov, through Elder Zosima this evening:
“Above all, avoid falsehood, every kind of falsehood, especially falseness to yourself. Watch over your own deceitfulness and look into it every hour, every minute. Avoid being scornful, both to others and to yourself. What seems to you bad within you will grow purer from the very fact of your observing it in yourself. Avoid fear, too, though fear is only the consequence of every sort of falsehood. Never be frightened at your own faint‐heartedness in attaining love. Don’t be frightened overmuch even at your evil actions. I am sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labor and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science.”
I think I am someone who understands this. And I find myself drawn to what follows as well. Grateful to have read it today.
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