You Call This Literature? Part 3 - edited

Looking through the "Literature" section and expecting to find articles on Woolf and Morrison, Pound and Haslitt, it is disappointing to see Dan Brown's work everywhere.  This is not to criticise Brown, although his earth-shattering theory is, too be fair, not even his own; but what is truly dissatisfying is how a bestseller, based on a juicy story everyone loves to believe, is what can define what we all think we ought to read. 

Popular literature has hit a regrettable low, unfortunately to the point that fine literature is being overlooked.  Even Chapters has candles and calendars and journals and pens at the front of the store now, and we have go to the back to see what it says it's really selling.  Moreover, on the tables nearest the entrance are shiny bestselling books written by Dan Brown and anything with Oprah's Book Club's seal of approval sticker.  It took William Faulkner almost an entire century to finally be recognized as a valuable writer by most of us, when Oprah recommended a three-volume set of his "best"work.  It seems we all want what someone thinks is "best," the overarching narrative of a writer's career, without having to do any researcher to dig through piles of books.  Rather, we gather bits and pieces, as if all works were separate, only caring to read the author that the New York Times deems "brilliant" and "dazzlingly unique."

What is also disheartening is that many people haven't heard of good Canadian writers, or at the very least, Canadian writers who don't base their stories in the mid-western U.S.  Many of us have never read anything by Atwood or Munro (who are hardly even being considered in Chapters' best selling novels) while others like Henighan are being almost completely ignored.  It seems we'd all rather read up on astrology and Devils wearing Prada.   Granted, people read because they want to escape.  Lamentably, everyone these days wants to escape into a story that is predictable and superficial.  Have we become so passive that we cannot escape into a story that might enlighten us or enhance our knowledge of the world?  It seems we don't want to look around us, don't want to read about things that matter.  This is not only egotistical, but also irresponsible.  The need for enjoyment is recognized, but great writers like Brand and Rhys, Joyce and Chesterson inform and inspire as well as delight, which may take us further than a bestselling Dan Brown or Stephen King.  Literature helps make us human.  Since what we're reading is mass-market, cliched plot-driven books, society should be slightly concerned about what this says about our collective intelligence.