An Introduction
When I was 13 years old and living in the south of England, the defining characteristic of my life was that I had more books than friends. I would pick up Jane Austen’s masterpiece, Pride and Prejudice, and read these words: “I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”
Now 25 and living in London, I still have more books than friends. Even with a floor likely to collapse under the weight of my extensive personal library, I consider this a major advantage. The solace that I found in discovering my fictional soulmate, Elizabeth Bennet (particularly important as I was entering that horrendously awkward teenage stage), still resonates with me. Life has moved on, but literature continues to be as constant a presence in my life as London’s rain (refuting no clichés here). A few months ago, in an effort to document the extent of my literary love, I started a blog – The Book Habit. Primarily intended as a means to make sure that I remember the books I read, it ended up being an homage to the way that literature seeps into so many aspects of my life – from films, to music, to my various trips around the UK. Only after starting to write about literature did it occur to me that literature is about so much more than simply the act of reading books.
Literature has even found a way of permeating my professional life. I’m currently wrapping up a Masters in Human Rights and preparing for the joys of a PhD, and I am acutely aware of the power that literature has beyond the personal. Every oppressive government on earth, throughout history, has turned to censorship as a default means of repression. From the book burning campaigns of the Nazi party to ongoing efforts for uninhibited freedom of political expression in Russia, censorship is an oppressive tool that has been employed across the ages; give people the freedom to write what they will and you automatically lose your iron grip on society. There is no bigger threat to despots and dictators than the written word. Literature also has an unrivaled power to transcend borders. It connects us because it demands empathy. You cannot read without being asked to understand, to see the world through another’s eyes.
I think that the power of literature should be celebrated. This celebration should acknowledge the personal impact that reading works in our lives, but also the larger global and social context within which literature is making changes. My hope is that this column will capture both of these dynamics. So be prepared to see a variety of articles – from book reviews (both contemporary and classical) and interviews, to discussions of topical issues. Reflected in this diversity will be the habit that literature has of seeping, unacknowledged, into those various corners of our lives. And just know that, while I write, I will be thanking that 13-year-old version of myself for turning to books for wisdom and guidance. Without her, I certainly would not be where I am now – writing “From Austen to Zola” and fearing the impending book-induced collapse of my top-floor flat onto my downstairs neighbour.
Laura Clarke is a full-time PhD student and part-time writer living in London. Although she is studying human rights, Laura finds plenty of time to indulge in her love of all things literary. She is known to travel the length and breadth of the UK in search of bibliophilic hotspots and headlines.
