A lovely little bit on BBC1 the other night about the ongoing ‘human book’ programme run by libraries here and there in the UK. Lovely people doing it, lovely motivations behind it. In short, instead of going to a library and borrowing a book, you ‘borrow’ a person. They tell you something about themselves,and you can ask questions. Ideally, civil and enjoyable conversation is had, never something to be sniffed at in our ever-more aggressive world. As I said, lovely.
But while the folks on offer are certainly human, are they really books? I say no. A book, however it is delivered, is a work crafted by someone with a particular skill and intention; whether non-fiction or novel, it is a work of creativity, a work of art. You might counter that talking with someone can embody the same qualities that motivate literature, and certainly such a debate could go on into the night fueled by bottle upon bottle of one’s favourite tipple. But we’re talking about the differences both in process and product. The act of walking down the street contains movement, expression, motivation, intention and, in many cases, grace and beauty. But is it dance? After writing this, I will walk downstairs with my empty coffee mug, turn on the tap, wash it out, place it in a drying rack, towel off my hands, wander back upstairs, and probably return to my computer to complete some other things that need completing. Is that a performance? The cycle I described has a beginning, middle and end; it contains motivation, story (albeit a dull one), a performer, props, a setting….
You might argue that I’m making a proverbial mountain out of a proverbial molehill here; you might even be right. But in a world in which books are increasingly devalued–and in the UK, can’t we say the same of art in general?–it feels ok to be a bit reductive, perhaps even a bit pedantic in defending even the smallest, even the most innocent of further degradations to the idea of artistic process, intention and engagement. This is not about the form of the book: previous posts have laid out my position therein, which is that the medium is changing and in the process changing the message and how it is received and interpreted by audiences. That’s all fine. But if we can argue ’til dawn about when a book is a book, surely the lines must be clearer about when a book is NOT a book? Engaging someone in conversation, however valuable it might be, isn’t the same as engaging with a professionally crafted narrative. That’s chat, not literature. More than ever, it’s important to shout out the difference.