Classical Literature: A Survival Guide

Classical literature has garnered a reputation for being synonymous with pretentious literature, which, to be fair, the genre has historically produced gatekeeping tendencies rooted in the hierarchy of aristocratic society that has since lived on in the walls of millennial-targeted coffee shops, usually from some white guy who majored in philosophy and gladly reminds anyone who will listen. It’s mostly the social reaction to classic literature that tends to turn us away from the classics before we even pick one up—the literary magazines, the journals, the scholars. They will argue until their death that literary fiction is superior to genre fiction because it’s less accessible to the average working-class commuter and believes classical literature to be reserved for the higher-educated elite, therefore making classic literature serious, big, scary, smart-person literature. They have collectively succeeded in making the very foundational works of literature seem daunting to the reader, especially to the beginner. 

Admittedly, the prose in classic literature can be frustrating to even the most seasoned reader—its language feels archaic and unnatural to us, the sentences are too flowery, the society depicted doesn’t reflect the modernized progressive ideas of the society that we’re used to, it’s striving too hard to appear elegant and true of the late 18th-century aristocratic elite (looking at you, War and Peace, and your unnecessary use of the French language). Once you start reading classical literature, you will begin to pick up on the word order, syntax, and vocabulary common in these eras, and the writing will start to flow better as you read. Classical literature feels so tough to conquer at first because we don’t talk like that. Or: Talk like that, we do not. What think you?

Thankfully I am here to help you pick a starting point with understanding the classics with my favorite eight introductory reads. But first— 

What is Classical Literature? 

For whatever reason, scholars think it hard to define “classical literature” in a way that permits a single Google search. We should be able to type in “What is classical literature” and get a list. 

So, for your sake: Classical literature is any written work—poetry, dialogues, plays, fiction, non-fiction, &c.—that has stood the test of time and remains relevant to the human experience without regard to current societal conditions. The cream that has risen to the top, if you will.

Does this mean it’s all good literature? Goodness, no. Some classics are terribly dreadful, dull, and outright pain-inducing. Dickens goes on about fog for three paragraphs. Tolstoy is Dickens, but Russian with the safety off. I am a fervent fan of both; I enjoy fog for three paragraphs, but you might not, as several people don’t, including Oscar Wilde.

Literary society makes mistakes, mostly with James Joyce making the worst of them. As with all books, some classics are great, some are tolerable, some are abominations.

A Brief History

The bulk of classical literature as we think of it consists mainly of works published between 1801 and 1920. Serialized novels were in their prime in the mid-19th-century. Literacy rates started to boom at the turn of the 19th-century as printed material became more widespread and schools became prioritized. The middle-class began to form with leisure time that could be spent reading. Poetry, which had hitherto been dominated by men and seen as a high-brow career, was beginning to be rivaled by the novel, a new form of writing that allowed women to gain dominance in a career field since there were no rules or formal training in the craft yet. This is all reflected in the literature written during this time: heavy themes of industrialization, women’s experiences in society, satire of the aristocratic elite, and reflections on human nature and classism. 

In short: whether you intend to learn it or not, the classics will teach you the history of different societies, the universal human experience, and help you gain foundational knowledge that will help to understand today’s literature—there are so many modern allusions to classics that I didn’t know I was missing until I read the classics. 

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Here are some classics that stand as a great starting point for anyone who isn’t familiar with classic literature and for those who have no idea where to even begin. 

1. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

Little Women is a joy to be cherished amongst the women of the world. It is often the first “big book” many children read, and it has often been the book people cite as their first classic. The prose is easy to follow, and you get sucked into the story before you realize you have been because the characters are so dear and loveable. Plus, you can watch the film with Lil’ Timmy Tim and Florence Pugh after reading, which is always a solid motivator.

Set after the Civil War, Little Women follows the lives of four sisters—the March sisters–as they grow into womanhood. It highlights how it feels to grow from a girl into a young woman and what that means for girls entering adulthood in a world dominated by men. 

2. East of Eden, John Steinbeck

A banned book, which should sell you on it immediately since, as we all know, banned books are usually the best books. In 1982, East of Eden was banned in Alabama for being “ungodly and obscene.” Mm, yes. My favorite. 

East of Eden focuses on the universal human experience noted since the beginning of time: sibling rivalry. The novel is a nod to Genesis and the Biblical allusion of Cain and Abel, with personifications of Satan, temptation, morality, prostitution, expletives, and all the good stuff that would send the American South into fits of frustration. 

3. The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

Late 1800s English aristocracy meets queer romanticism at its finest. Also a banned book for its homoerotic sexual undertones (it was eventually used as evidence against him in his trial for gross indecency that resulted in being convicted of sodomy in which he was sentenced to prison before being exiled to France), this classic explores one of my favorite debates: beauty and youth in society versus intelligence and the mind. Oscar Wilde’s wit and dry humor do not escape me—he is brilliant at satire and capturing the class differences of English society in such a humorous way. If you like dry humor and flowery, poetic sentences that are tragically romantic, mixed with some existential philosophy, a touch of Lacan’s psychological mirror stage about recognizing ourselves, and a flair of a classic Freudian uncovering of our subconscious, I’m confident you’ll love Dorian Gray. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray follows Lord Henry, an aristocratic, philosophical, morally ambiguous character that finds joy in corrupting the ignorant, his friend Basil, a renowned painter and artist, and Dorian Gray, an incredibly pretty man whom Basil is pining over. Basil makes it incredibly clear that Lord Henry is not to corrupt Dorian with his existential thoughts because he fears it will ruin Dorian’s innocence and beauty. Naturally, Lord Henry does exactly that. Throughout Dorian’s corruption, the portrait Basil had painted for him begins to reflect the decline of morality that is festering within him until it drives him into madness. 

4. Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

A stunning science fiction novella written in 1959 but set in 2049, Fahrenheit 451 is an ode to literature and a love letter to books. Bradbury had said that, when coming up with the plotline, he knew one thing: He hated book burners, and he loved libraries. Fahrenheit 451 is about many things, but at its skeleton, it is about a deep love for books and the strange protectiveness that comes with that. The novella is short and quick-paced once you get into the swing of the futuristic setting and has some hauntingly familiar themes that align with the world and social media today.

The novella follows Guy Montag, a firefighter in a world where, instead of putting fires out, firefighters start them by burning books as a way to keep the peace amongst the general public. The philosophy is simple: If people start knowing too much, they become unhappy, and to keep people happy, people cannot be given the tools to know things. Thus: Books are banned, and anyone who owns books is deemed mentally unwell, and the books are burned. Montag is faced with an internal moral dilemma when he accidentally starts reading books and discovers the magic they bring. 

5. Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes

You know how in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, the knights are complete and utter comedic trainwrecks? That sums up Don Quixote. It’s a hilarious classic full of adventure and thrill, and it touches on themes of identity and being let down by one’s own high expectations. 

Don Quixote follows a noble who, after binge-reading his fair share of romance novels that follow chivalrous knights, becomes obsessed with a single task: to revive chivalry in society. He changes his name and goes on his missions under the identity of Don Quixote, a knight-errant, and convinces himself he’s living out this romantic knight fantasy. Except knighthood is dead and was very much on its way to becoming obsolete and was seen as old-fashioned when Don Quixote was written (1605). The novel is a satiric masterpiece that explores society, nobility, and the way we choose to interact with the world around us. 

6. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

Great Expectations was one of the first classics I read during my freshman year of high school, and it was the classic that sparked my spiral into English literature and classical texts. I was in love with the way Charles Dickens was able to characterize each character in such a way that ensured each character stood out from the rest in the novel and the way 1800s England was captured. I especially loved the graveyard scene at the beginning and the way the characters and descriptions felt so real, which no doubt is what sucked me in. 

The novel follows Pip, an orphan living in the Kent marshes of England, as he comes into wealth. Pip falls victim to fast-paced social mobility/rapid social class advancement, leaving behind his friends in the process and, eventually, being humbled by his arrogance and his crushing desire to become acclimated into sophisticated society. It’s a novel that is easy to get into, character-dominant with gripping dialogue. It stands as a beautiful portrait of society and the experience of wanting to have a luxurious life so badly that you’re willing to risk your values to do so.

7. The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

Edmond Dantes has it all at 19. And then he gets wrongfully imprisoned and betrayed by those who are envious of him. He spends fourteen years imprisoned in a dungeon, and now he wants revenge. He gets an opportunity to escape and thus follows an adventure so packed with action and complexity and pure fun that it spans 1276 pages yet somehow never drags on. 

There is so much going on with this one, but it is easy to read and surprisingly fast-paced. Let’s just hope your big book fear doesn’t stand in the way of this one.

8. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

I took a course at university that focused on analyzing Frankenstein in so many ways that I began to loathe it. I will probably never read it again. It hurts that I can’t deny that it is an excellent book for introducing yourself into the writing style of classic novels, no matter the amount of nausea and flashbacks it brings me. 

Do I have to tell you what Frankenstein is about at this point? Some academic elitist dude named Victor is so grief-stricken and obsessed with fostering his god complex that he creates a monster out of mix-matched limbs, sprinkles in a little electricity, dissociates from reality for a bit, and then the monster comes to life only to be—not really a monster at all, but a creature that develops thoughts and feelings that terrifies Victor. It is a fascinating novel that questions the role of creator and creation, and psychoanalyzing Victor was the most fun I’ve ever had in an English course, so I’ll give it that.

SOME TIPS

Since older writing styles prioritized description and lyricism over fast-paced-action and realistic dialogue, Audiobooks will be a gods-send at introducing you to the pace that the prose is spoken and the way the sentences sound out loud (and, usually, with their proper accents). 

Hearing how the words are spoken will aid in your understanding of the lyricism of the prose if flowery prose isn’t something you’re used to. You know that one Shakespeare scene in Netflix’s Sex Education? Where she’s all like, Shakespearean writing has a heartbeat. No? Well, that’s lyricism, and it’s much easier to understand when it’s spoken properly by trained actors, not by socially anxious high school students in your AP Lit class whose voices shake after they trip over thee’s and thy’s that nobody bothered explaining to them (it just means you and yours, everyone).

Audible has fantastic performances of Emma by Jane Austen (with the sound effects of horse carriages!) and Shakespeare’s plays (my favorite are Hamlet and Othello). Not to mention I’ve listened to Jake Gyllenhaal’s reading of The Great Gatsby three times (his voice just fits).

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