Redefining Classics

A rambling post for today.

The phrase "the classics" is a loose term in literature. We expect it to refer to books that last through time, that remain relevant in either their message or their format. They are either beautiful to read or contain important themes, preferably both. But what is considered a classic changes with time and often has little to do with a book's popularity. Perhaps it is because everything has been said already in literature that context does matter. An exploration of identity, for instance, is rewritten a thousand times over because each generation wants to hear it expressed in a new way. That's why you'll notice that some of the more recent "classics" either become or remain popular when they are reinterpreted anew time and again.

Consider something like Alice in Wonderland, which wasn't exactly popular when it came out. It's still widely available in bookstores, but is it really widely read by anyone except literature students? It especially isn't read much by its original audience of children, unless in extremely abridged formats. Yet the story is popular and it is widely referenced in all sorts of art forms. 

Two more nineteenth century novels, Frankenstein and Dracula, are similar. They were more popular in their day, but they still are. Here I would also question how many people read the originals who aren't literature students, but everyone knows (or thinks they know) the basics of the stories. Adaptations and references abound. 

But that's the thing, isn't it? These three stories that I've brought up remain popular because they are constantly being redefined. And it's that redefining that makes them new and keeps them in society's collective consciousness. We have an idea of what we mean when we talk about the character of Frankenstein or his monster--an idea that is not limited by the details of the original story. It's like we've made archetypes out of certain stories, like the tales of Greek heroes used to be. And so when we refer to those story lines or characters, we're interacting more with that archetype than the original source itself. 

Fiction always keeps to the same core concepts. But we keep those concepts alive by reinventing them through either new stories or new interpretations of the same stories. And that's what makes us feel connected to "classics" as they age. If we feel we've lost that connection, then the old classics become dusty relics only read by those who study literature. (Which I don't have an issue with--some of like reading dusty relics, and it's impossible for every piece of value written to continue to be cherished through the ages. Then we would have no need for new writers, eh?) That's why it's the ones we can approach more loosely that remain popular. So maybe it isn't such a bad thing that people sometimes forget that Frankenstein is the scientist not the monster. It's the main imagery, not the details, that take root in our minds. 

A Dozen of Jane

I recently bought a new copy of Jane Eyre. I . . . didn't need a new copy of this book. While it was pretty, it also wasn't my favorite copy of this book I've ever seen. It's just that I can never resist buying all the copies of Jane Eyre.

While, from the standpoint of a literary critic, I will certainly listen to, even in theory agree with, anyone who states that Jane Eyre isn't Charlotte Bronte's best novel or the best novel of the Victorian era or the best of the Bronte Sisters' novels (although it's kind of unfair of us to lump the sisters into one category as if they had no individuality). But the thing is (and I know many people agree with me), Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books and maybe even my favorite of all. Jane Eyre is my soul. I reflect back and forth with that book like it's a mirror that I look into or a lesson book written just for me. I started reading it first when I was ten; it was a little too much for me at that age so I picked it up again when I was twelve (I finished it the summer just before I turned thirteen).  Since then, I've read it again every few years. It grows with me and develops with me. It's my soul.

I only ever read the first copy that I bought all those years ago in the children's section at Barnes & Noble; this was the Puffin Classics edition with Jane walking in a billowing purple dress outside of Thornfield. But I also own the Penguin edition, the Barnes & Noble classics hardcover (I'm missing their paperback, am I not?), the Barnes & Noble collectible classics hardcover (they now make this one in a soft cover instead, so I'm glad I bought it when I was still in this nicer version), the pretty Penguin Classics edition that places like Anthropologie loved to sell a couple years ago when they first came out, an old clothbound blue copy that once belonged to a random high school library in Arizona, a dark blue clothbound copy possibly even older than that one, the Knickerbocker Classics edition (which is the one I just bought), the Canterbury Classics edition, Dame Darcy's illustrated edition, the graphic novel version, and the BabyLit version. If you count those last two (which are technically in a different category, that's twelve total.

And I suppose I do also own one of those book journals that uses the sentences of the book (printed in tiny, tiny letters) instead of lines for you to write on. That would make it a baker's dozen.

For a book that's this important to me, I might as well have a little collection going. I mean, it isn't as if there is much book merch out there, even for a book as eternally popular as Jane Eyre. Sure, I have that journal and the t-shirt from Out of Print and especially nowadays with things like Etsy, there are certainly some options out there. But mainly the books are my merch. I can just sit and look at them and consider how they do or don't reflect on the content and tone of the book.

That gray leather-bound is wonderful and Dame Darcy's is pretty cool. But, you know what? I think that perhaps my favorite is still that purple Puffin one. Some of the stylish, trendy copies automatically make this book look all feminine with pink and yellow and flowers and frills because it's a book about a woman written by a woman. And yes, it is certainly a feminine book in many ways. But it's also a dark book--which is why I love it. This purple book captures that duality. Jane is there in her dress but you can also see all the storm clouds around Thornfield and the birds circling the air like a bad omen and the light shining on the trees to represent all the nature elements that are also so prevalent in this book. Yes, this is the cover that made me reach for this book to learn more--all those years ago when I had never heard of Charlotte Bronte or Jane Eyre.

I tell you, it's great when children can grow up already knowing about the classics. But it's also amazing to discover them and fall in love with them entirely on your own. (I mean, I did know about a good many classics [thank you, Wishbone], but Jane Eyre wasn't one of them.)

Why Did They Get Rid of These?

I loved this range of classics that Barnes and Noble used to have. They were all about six by four inches and five dollars each. Hardcover, gold-edged, and clothbound, too. Perfect for me because they didn't have pictures on the cover (I don't know why that often bothers me) and were small enough to fit in a purse. I was only able to get eight before they stopped making them a couple years ago.

Now they still have good-priced classics, in hardcover and paperback, but they're just not the same. They're bigger. I don't like books to be big. Though the pages do have a little more space for scribbling. I tend to do some informal annotating on the classics to make sure I'm not missing things. So I guess that's nice, but still.

To answer my question, though, I think it's because most people aren't like me. They don't want small books. The old ones were tiny. Most people would probably pass them by, thinking they were abridged or something.