Someone recently asked me that same old question: what makes some books Literature, and others not? Note the capital L: we're talking serious literary business here. This is a question we debated in every literature class I took in university, and for me, the answer usually goes something like: Literary books aren't about something, or some event, or someone; they are about life. The plot doesn't really matter all that much, there isn't some big mystery to be solved, or adventure to get through. It's about humans living their lives, experiencing the things that humans experience, and possibly the things that make them human. And these books get you thinking about life, the way you experience it, and your place in it. Others may have other definitions (we didn't really decide upon one universal definition during those literature classes either), but I think mine works pretty well for all of the big classics (I've mentioned it when discussing Anna Karenina, One Hundred Years of Solitude, but also Richard Yates, and many others).
The definition of 'life itself' works really very well for A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, which must be the most literary contemporary work I've read for a long time. This is probably one of those instant classics; one of those novels that students 50 years from now will still be reading and talking about. I've already mentioned before that it is a big book; 720 pages, but now I can tell you that it is a heavy book as well. There is nothing 'little' about the life contained in it (although the protagonist may not see it that way), for this is one of those books that does contain one whole life, viewed from almost every possible angle. It isn't told chronologically, and in the beginning you may be tricked into thinking that it is going to be about four people, but you quickly realise that most of the other characters only serve to mirror or respond to the main character; Jude. The book isn't really about anything else, but his life; his experiences, his feelings, his actions. As with all great characters, he is multi-layered, inconsistent, unreliable. Things he tells the reader about himself are often contradicted by other characters, showing how we can deceive ourselves in how we think about ourselves. By the end of the book, it's as if you know Jude better than he has ever known himself, which is probably true.
Of course, stuff does happen. They go to college, they scramble to get by in menial jobs, they start careers, they form relationships, they travel. Good things happen, bad things happen. No really big life events puncture the world of the novel, although all characters are living in NYC, and probably live through the 9/11 attacks. The city changes around them, and some of this change is mentioned, but it isn't important to the story. The story is Jude.
At some point early in the novel, I could see what Yanagihara was doing, I could see the structure of her novel through the cracks. My suspension of disbelieve was shattered for a moment, but it quickly restored itself. However, this made me worry a bit, and there are some minor issues with this book. The point that distracted me was one of the introductory chapters to one of the other three main characters, Malcolm. In the beginning of the novel, we get to see things from all four points of view: JB, Malcolm, Willem, and Jude. Throughout the novel, these points of view fall away, until Jude alone is left. I think she could have kept the other characters in for a bit longer, as you get to know them quite intimately in the beginning, and it annoying not to know what they think or how they experience things later on. You know what happens to them because Jude knows, but you don't get their point of view anymore.
One other thing that always annoys me in novels, is that almost all characters are involved in artistic or creative professions, and all of them are highly successful. I've read many novels in which the main characters are writers or poets or playwrights, always famous, always successful, that it really makes me doubt whether writers can think outside of that creative world anymore. In A Little Life, everybody is an artist, a painter, a sculptor, an architect, an actor; everybody except for Jude, who is a lawyer. This sets him apart from the others and adds meaning, but it again influenced my suspension of disbelieve. Where are all the unsuccessful people with normal jobs? Isn't their life worth writing about?
But these are minor things, and they by no means influence the reading of the novel, which is great. The pages are word-heavy (there is very little dialogue), but you still get to them quickly, because the language is quick and easy, even when discussing the hardest of subjects. I've read someone describe the novel as containing 'gratuitous violence', and some scenes are pretty graphic, but they always serve a purpose. The author isn't trying to shock anyone, she is describing life as it happened for Jude, and is probably happening for thousands people all over the world. If you're shocked reading some of these bits, that probably means your life was a bit happier than his. But that shouldn't shy you away from reading about his life, which may make you think about your own 'little life'. I for one know that this book will stay with me for a long time to come, and I think this will be true for many readers still to come.
