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Fiction vs Non-Fiction - 1

A friend once told me with disdain.
‘I think fiction books are stupid. Stories about love, hate and all the… stupidities. I only read non-fiction, the real deal.’
He announced why reading fiction is one of the guilty pleasures that humanity indulges in and we are better off never reading it.

And he wasn’t the first one to tell me this.

The Onslaught 

Many of my students and parents come to me declaring the usefulness of certain works and subjects and the useless pursuits of story subjects, which I should rather neglect while teaching.
Some are willing to concede a little ground. According to them, while these stories might be a good 'time-pass', they might not land their kids a good career, a good social standing or a good job.

While it is good to patronise them, these storybooks do not mean anything in the real world. Maybe one can read them for a couple of hours in a week, if at all. 

But no one is going to employ them or marry them for reading storybooks.

Some are blunt to my face.

‘Sir, practical problems need practical solutions. None of these were ever solved by teachers or writers of fiction. When you are out there, it is war. Struggle for survival, struggle to move up the socio-economic ladder, beating the competition, and staying ahead of the curve.’

A senior lady, a regular visitor at our place advised me for my own good.

‘You have no standing in society, beta. This is why you are the way you are. In life and in relations, you need results. This vocation of yours, even if it makes you some money, is of no use to make and sustain a real life. I have seen life and dealt with its horrors, so take it from me when I say, ‘Don’t make the mistake of believing this fiction will lead you anywhere.’

I never knew my job was a fictional pursuit!

I smile. I nod in understanding. I let them have their moment. It is reassuring for both the parties. For I can see the glint of superiority in their eyes.

The lady who sat across from me, the people who talked to me, my friend; no sooner had they finished their monologue than their eyes lit up. Their heights lengthened, their chests heaved and the air of finality in their voice made them a little, if not very, proud.

They had landed their big truth. The reality and the accumulated wisdom of life have been laid on an ignorant me. They could see it had the desired effect. For I was silent. There was redemption written all over their face.

Usually, after this ceremonial talk in favour of non-fiction, some get up and leave in a hurry, happy in the thought that they had caught someone off guard. Some stayed to see the effect on me to see their point proved because I never countered. Now they can happily parade their thoughts to their sons, daughters, and relatives, convinced of its desirous effect.

This poor man, they might be thinking. It feels great to help a wayward soul.

The Context 

All of the above formed a part of my discussion with a friend at a party.

She smiled, 'But you can offer me your defence. I know you have one. Convince me otherwise although I am already on your side.’ 

She was a believer in stories herself. Only, she wanted to reassert her beliefs through whatever I retort I had for my friend, parents, students, and well-wishers, who had come up with all the above arguments.

But to believe is to already have believed. Part of who we are, what we think and whatever conclusions we reach, is preordained by our inclinations. We only seek confirmations of what we suspect, already fear, or are almost convinced, is true.

We need a push from someone to insert that dose of conviction. Rarely have people changed their views in favour of a completely opposite argument, idea or philosophy because someone convinced them.

‘Don’t patronise me! I believe you have an answer,’ a smiling defiance comes through.

'I would read it to you as I write my argument,' I said. 'And yes, it is a story.' 

To all my friends, students, parents and well-wishing aunties,

The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.

           -said, not me, but William Faulkner

… to be continued

Comments

  1. Anonymous20 March 2025 at 12:29

    So, cliffhangers in blog posts now? That's a new one! I'm wondering why you left us hanging like that. Couldn't the answers have been included here? Anyway, I'm definitely tuning in for your next blog to see how you address the other side's arguments. Love, always!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Prashant20 March 2025 at 13:01

      Hey! The answer is a story in itself so thought of writing it separately! And I hope to live up to your curiosity. Appreciate your comments so much. Thank you.

      Delete

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