The Whale Belly

I’ve long wondered about the actual benefits of reading literature. When I was a high school English teacher, my students would ask me what the purpose was of reading plays, poems, and novels. I think I said something about understanding human nature, but I didn’t really know what that meant, nor did my answer satisfy my students’ need to solve the immediate, varied, and numerous problems in their lives. Since then, I hope I’ve come to a somewhat better understanding of literature’s value, but I’m still trying to refine my answer. This field note (or whatever I end up calling these) is just a step closer to that answer.

This week, I listened to a talk by Dana Gioia about the benefits of reading literature. His views come from a collation of research on reading trends and their impacts on American lives, collected in a 2008 National Education Association (NEA) report called To Read or Not to Read. I haven’t read the full NEA report Gioia mentions yet, but his talk got me thinking about the connections between reading, cognitive development, and how we live our lives.

According to Gioia, studies have shown a high correlation between those who read literature and those who vote more often, volunteer more in their communities, have higher paying jobs, and even exercise more. He says these outcomes are the result of the cognitive strengthening that reading literature provides, as it requires active use of imagination, memory, attention, and empathy. He describes reading as a progressive practice, where one challenges themselves to gradually move from simple to complex literature, much like increasing weights at the gym or extending running distances over time.

This idea of progression aligns with an ancient principle: the movement from simple to complex pleasures. It’s like developing a taste for fine wine: appreciating “difficult” literature requires slowing down to savor its complexities, instead of swilling it like soda pop. As one develops their palette, reading shifts from a tool to reaffirm existing views to an opportunity to challenge and expand them: from resonance to expansion.

Gioia tells us that unlike the often analytical or informational aims of nonfiction, literature immerses us in the lived experiences of others, perhaps more so than any other medium. This engagement deepens our understanding of emotional contexts, helping us make better decisions, whether in one’s personal life or in the fields of business, politics, or even science. Reading literature appears to encourage deeper engagement with life and personal growth, and gives people a chance to “awaken their inner capacities.”

This is all good food for thought moving forward. I’ll keep revisiting the question “why read and write literature?,” but for now I’ll comfort myself with the thought that I might at least be strengthening multiple cognitive domains when I’m reading, which may contribute to material and social benefits down the road. But I don’t want to focus too much on the potential outcomes of reading literature, because it takes away from my ability to find pleasure in the activity itself, of doing something good for myself (and by extension, society), much like running, which I enjoy more for its rhythm than its specific rewards. But knowing literature might strengthen cognition and connect us to others makes the practice even more worthwhile.

I wonder, though—how strong is the evidence for a causal link between reading and these outcomes? Or could these correlations stem from other factors, like education or socioeconomic status? I would love to hear from other people if they have knowledge on this topic. Are Gioia’s claims correct? Is he missing something? Can you recommend other resources to learn more about this topic? Please let me know in the comments.

Works Cited

“‘Why Literature Matters’ by Dana Gioia.” YouTube, uploaded by Pearson English, 8 Nov. 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9I4ubXX6igU&t=925s