Column

Last week, this paper carried an article about one-time popular authors who have slipped into oblivion. At one time, young readers devoured the works of authors like Alistair Maclean and Desmond Bagley, but one day their books simply disappeared from bookshops. These best-selling authors have now been replaced by another set of writers who score high, especially at airport bookshops. Chicklit is in, World War II and Cold War novels are decidedly out.

But this is about pulp — the situation is no better in the classics. Just last week I chanced upon another article which bemoaned the fact that while everyone kept certain books on their bookshelves, nobody actually read them. Who had actually read Ulysses by James Joyce, considered the epitome of modernist writing? Yet, it was scored by Random House as the number 1 among the 100 best books of all time. The same poll also found that the readers’ vote went to Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, followed closely by The Fountainhead at number two. No serious student of literature would rate them as great novels, but readers’ polls, especially in the time of the Internet, have a way of pushing popular rather than worthy candidates forward and Rand devotees can be very persistent indeed.

Similarly, the second in the critics list was The Great Gatsby while the third in the reader’s list was Battlefield Earth by L Ron Hubbard. The same thing happens when you look at any list of 100 best films or albums. Any list in the Indian context would also throw up such discrepancies — is Sholay the greatest Indian film or Pather Panchali?
You get the point.

So the question arises: are critics out of touch with popular opinion? Do the latter occupy some rarified world that is beyond the ken and reach of the aam aadmi? Should popularity score over art? Most of all, does it matter?

Rand’s followers would say that her books change their lives and have been a lasting influence. Most people read Ayn Rand at an age when they are just entering the adult world as college students or workers. The simplistic philosophy — and the simplistic language, one dare say — touch a chord. The notion of a proud man, Howard Roark, who refuses to bow to the demands of the world is compelling. Many become fanatic followers of this credo, others simply grow out of it and not a few scoff at what this represents. But the first category takes the lessons to heart; Alan Greenspan, the former chairman of the Federal Reserve was an unabashed follower and incorporated her ideas into his work. Her books still sell in the millions.

On the other hand, very few people have managed to go through Ulysses, which, apart from being quite a thick tome, is a difficult read; several pages at the end, in case you manage to reach it, do not have a punctuation mark at all. Despite the difficulties in plodding through the book, it is hailed as a masterpiece and Joyce a genius. If you want to be hailed as a discerning literary type, you would be better off holding forth on Molly Bloom rather than John Galt though the latter’s fans are no slouches. This only chasm irritates not only Rand’s followers but also all those who think that critics are mere snobs — Ray’s films run in art house cinemas while Bollywood rakes in the millions, so who is superior?

Some might argue that the distinction is slowly blurring — highbrow film buffs now claim to not only love Sholay and Bollywood cinema in general but also theorise about it. So has low-brow culture made a leap to the upper cultural echelons? I doubt it. The new found attachment of the mavens to popular culture does not work in reverse; no hordes are rushing to see ‘meaningful’ cinema. I recall meeting a bunch of sincere youngsters who had planned to show all the world’s classic films to slum dwellers and excitedly informed me that the audience had loved the film Battleship Potemkin. This was very heartwarming but soon enough the project ran out of steam because the audiences thinned out; not because they wanted only masala films, but because a change, or elevation if you please, in taste doesn’t happen overnight. Similarly, distributing free copies of War and Peace is not going to suddenly inspire angsty youngsters to curl up in a corner and start reading it, especially when they have Paolo Coelho handy.

So how to bridge this gap? And should we even try to? I for one don’t think so.

Let everyone read and see what they will; trying to ‘upgrade’ taste is always fraught with complications and takes us down some dangerous roads. We may all fret and fume about the kind of stuff that gets made and written and warn our kids to stay away from pap and turn their attention to high-minded literature, but ramming it down will not help in any way.Culture is a potent weapon and absolutist regimes down the centuries have used it effectively. The various interpretations of High Culture can be sinister — Nazi history provides a salutary lesson. It’s best therefore that both sides co-exist. And, good luck to those who want to wade through Ulysses.

Email: sidharth01@dnaindia.net