Literature is a barometer of the degree of advancement of a civilisation. At its nascent stage, a civilisation or empire is Spartan, struggling to survive and extend its boundaries and influence. Economic prosperity follows this period of expansion. Free of the need to survive and fight for its existence, it turns to encouraging and patronising literature, arts and culture. The Sistine Chapel would not have been possible without the patronage of a cash rich Vatican, Shakespeare may not have written if the multitudes thronging Globe Theatre were missing.
Coming to the present day, it is but obvious that most writers require financial patronage not only to get the bread on the table but also to have their writings published, propagated and disseminated to their audience. The trigger for writing may be a deep seated angst in the author to express himself but he still needs the patronage of the critics and the adulation of the multitudes to spur him on! As my daughter so succinctly put it – even God needs devotees to worship him. Without the devotees, God is just a figurine on a cross or a grand marble statue in an equally grand temple.
The moot question is – who judges a book and deems the author to be worthy of adulation? In pragmatic terms, the common masses judge and deem a book good by buying a copy. This brings us to a more elitist question – who ensures that the taste of the hoi polloi is good and their money is spent in promoting a good author? An obvious dichotomy exists here – for if the critics are to decide the vexed issue of judging and promoting good literature, what happens to the individual free will and choice? And if free will and popular concept is the final arbitrator of good writing, mankind may be saddled with kitsch imitating as literature!
Fortunately, I don’t seem to have this dilemma in my personal reading habits. I read esoteric stories recommended by critics and borrow vampire romances from my daughter also. What I am able to appreciate as an individual is good, what I don’t like is bad – sort of MY WILL, I WILL. And I don’t force my version down anyone’s throat. Am I wrong?