Laughter & Literature

A man at my church once shared a story that went like this: a Sunday school teacher asked “what is grey, has a fluffy tail, and eats nuts?” to which one of the students replied “I know the answer is probably Jesus, but that sure sounds like a squirrel.”

I’ve noticed a similar pattern in certain formal literature classes. “What’s the theme of this poem?” “What does this book symbolize?”

The student nodding off in the back row jerks awake when the teacher calls on him. “Uh, probably death,” he mumbles.

At what point in time did academia decide that the never-ending struggle between life and death was the unifying point of all great literature? (Obviously, I exaggerate for effect. The pattern exists, however.)

Why is the existential dread of Kafka assigned to teens while the comedic genius of Wodehouse is left to be discovered post-graduation? Wealthy people make fools of themselves a lot more often than depressed young men wake up to find themselves cockroach-ified. In that sense, the antics of Wodehouse’s characters are more likely to be encountered in the real world.

If you haven’t guessed, I’m not much on sad books. I don’t demand a happy ending, but I do think it’s within reason to expect a wry smile every now and then.

I also think it’s within reason to allow students to have a wide variety of literary experiences. Pulitzer Prizes needn’t be our only guides. When I used to ask my mom why I had to study certain things in school, she said that it was supposed to make you well-rounded (or so she’d been told). I love To Kill a Mocking Bird, A Tale of Two Cities, Till We have Faces, and Heart of Darkness. However, if that’s the only sort of book we expose our teens to, their roundness becomes a lopsided oval that leans in one direction.

I have deep concerns about forcing any particular book list on students, regardless of style. I could not have fully understood or enjoyed my favorite “classics” as a teen. However, I don’t want to open that contentious can of bookworms in this post.

All I want to say here is that we need to beware of literary snobbery.

A symbolic, thought provoking, life or death classic is great from time to time. But there’s no reason to be embarrassed if you’d prefer to laugh till your sides ache at a humor story or get chills up and down your spine while reading a thriller by lamplight.

Yes, words can convey a multitude of emotions. So, let’s loosen our ideas of what emotions are the best to convey.

Let laughter into your literature. It’s the best medicine for the wounds the other books reveal.