by Owen Carter

Created on: January 09, 2010   Last Updated: January 10, 2010

Books – in their myriad varieties, with all their different shades of meaning – are, without doubt, the finest testament to human thought our society can produce. Books, above all else, explore what it is to live in our world. Be it the most esoteric philosophical treatise or a cheap, high-octane thriller, each book offers its own meaning of life; its own narrative; its own way of understanding the world. Books have been the prime catalyst for thought throughout the centuries, even whilst documenting the development of that thought; without them society as we know it would not have developed.

The monotony of day-to-day life will be all too well known to most of you. From school to work, day to night, life at times loses its wonder – livened only by brief bursts of appreciation. Books, however, offer a way of transfiguring this life, of opening our eyes to a universe which is wonderful, but also brutal. This is not to say that life is a meaningless exercise without literature – yet literature serves to bring that world into sharper contrast, expanding and transcending our normal perceptions of it.

The multiplicity of literature has already been hinted at. Novels, poems, statutes – whichever form you prefer – are notable as much for their differences as their similarities. In the same way that organisms boast mind-boggling variety, thanks to the process of Darwinian evolution, literature possesses vitality and variation like no other form. Books can never be exhaustive; there are always new avenues to explore, new interpretations to consider. The American Constitution, a Romantic poem, and an Enlightenment paean to rationalism may differ wildly in intent and style, but they are still texts, offshoots of that same wonderful root – literature.

From the Universal Declaration of the Rights of Man to the Communist Manifesto, books have been the engine of political and social change – be it beneficial or pernicious. Books, and not war, are the “locomotive of history”: they define a movement, encapsulating its spirit, and in so doing give it a greater nobility and stature. They mirror the feelings of the time, whilst reflecting the truth of the world; they expose the crevices of our deepest soul, whilst remaining comprehensible.

Joyce said “literature is the ultimate affirmation of the human spirit”. I cannot help but agree with him. It is in books the genius of mankind finds its true expression and highest purpose – spiritual apotheosis is known only through the lens of introspection; the highest fervours of human thought find their truest expression in literature, for literature is the only medium which is truly subjective, reflecting your own personality. Each and every person is free to interpret a book how they will, and to take out of a book what they choose – or choose not – to take. This is why Shakespeare remains relevant to our modern-day lives. This is why some scorn books as a dead medium, whilst others rejoice in their continuing ubiquity. And this, more than anything, is why books, and their variations, are still the most important medium of communication our species possesses.

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