Literary vs Genre (and Why It’s Not Actually A Contest)

from the desk of our fiction editor, Heidi Turner.

My first college literature class (American Literature after 1865) opened with the professor asking about our most recent “encounters with literature.” What books mattered in that moment to us? What changed our lives in some way? What awakened imagination? I raised my hand, answered, and then slowly realized I might have made a grave mistake. The answers poured in from my classmates: The Divine Comedy, William Faulkner, The Sun Also Rises. I think someone said Milton, and the rest of us politely hummed with appreciation (and perhaps envy that someone had actually finished Paradise Lost all by themselves). 

I squirmed and wished I could take my answer back. I’d said that my most recent literary encounter was with The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, a young adult novel about Death (the person) struggling with the amount of death in the Holocaust, and a girl’s attempt to find beauty in the world she’s in through the horror. It’s a good book; it’s not a Great Work. In short, I felt very, very stupid. 

Then I learned about Jane Austen and Mark Twain and, wonder of wonders, Geoffrey Chaucer.  

Turns out, The Great Works are mostly pop novels that—whether intentionally or not—actually hit upon truths universally known but not acknowledged. They survived the ravages of time because in addition to saying something worth saying and saying it well, a lot of the Great Works are entertaining. Huck Finn is a riot; Lizzie Bennet would be my best friend. Don’t get me started on Shakespeare, the king of dirty jokes sandwiched between sword fights. 

What I realized through my deeper exploration of “literary work” is that there’s no one definition of “literary;” “literary fiction” is a genre just like “science fiction” and “fantasy” and “romance” and everything else. What makes it distinct, if there is a distinction at all, is that literary fiction is intentional about centering a character’s need for an epiphany and then delivering on that promise in some way. If it sounds vague, that’s because it is. It turns out that genre conventions have more to do with book sales than what readers will actually like. 

That said, there are a lot of works that don’t transcend their genre’s primary readership (for example, its mostly Star Wars fans reading Star Wars novelizations). However, they’re being read, and they’re speaking to their readers. Other works are clearly genre fiction, but transcend the genre’s readership (such as The Lord of the Rings). As a writer, it’s not my job to write the Great Work; it’s my job to write something for someone to read, a story that I’m excited to tell, and a story that lets someone feel seen and understood in some way. Sometimes that involves middle-aged folks having affairs. Sometimes it involves invaders from outer space. Sometimes it involves juvenile prison camps and digging a lot of holes. 

Good writing isn’t limited to the literary genre (and yes, it’s a genre). Good writing is decided by the readers. So, let’s write something fantastic, and see who finds it.