The Dogged, Irrational Persistence of Literary Fiction

Critical discourse concerning the state of literature in general, and what we call literary fiction in particular, has ranged from the deeply pessimistic to the frankly apocalyptic. So many crises to weather, such an extreme falling off from a time when novels — serious, demanding novels — attracted widespread attention and respect.

Substack essays and chin-pulling opinion articles galore agree that literature is not only in the doldrums, but even in danger of extinction from, take your pick, a declining attention span, a disappearing audience of people educated enough to understand and appreciate it, or a near-future technological onslaught (see: novels written by A.I. entities). The sense of a possible ending is palpable.

But what the discourse leaves out are things like historical perspective and the blind faith and, from the purely practical and economic points of view, sheer illogic of the literary enterprise.

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