Books Maketh the Man
Literature as Peak Masculinity
Where did all the literary men go? In The New York Times, David J. Morris bemoans their disappearance as writers, readers, and students of fiction. Instead, young men “have regressed educationally, emotionally and culturally,” swapping novels for video games and pornography, and seeking intellectual stimulation through a toxic “manosphere.” I agree with Morris’ premise that more men should be reading books. But a bell hooks [sic] quotation about men daring to “transgress patriarchial boundaries” is not going to turn them away from Joe Rogan. And why is the goal to turn men away from him, anyway? By interviewing authors on his podcast, Rogan’s probably done more to encourage male literacy than all the creative-writing programs in the country combined. Perhaps Rogan listeners aren’t reading Morris’ feminist-approved picks, like The Handmaid’s Tale. But non-fiction, as well as novels written by unregenerate men, can also improve your emotional intelligence, shape your self-identity, and impart a better understanding of the world. That understanding can then help you think critically about Rogan’s more dubious ideas—like ancient alien theory—as well as the more prestigious, but sometimes similarly questionable ideas voiced in the Times.
To encourage more young men to read, we first need to challenge the tacit assumption that literature is synonymous with fiction. My own love of reading started with a “great men of history” compendium for boys, a travelogue exploring the wonders of the world circa the 1930s, and various atlases and encyclopedias. Perhaps a capsule biography of Alexander the Great and Encyclopedia Britannica’s entry on World War II aren’t literary classics. But it’s not like most women have Middlemarch and Jude the Obscure on their bedside tables. And, more significantly, “literature” denotes qualities of style and substance, not a particular genre. Montaigne wrote literary essays. Nietzsche wrote literary philosophy. Edward Gibbon wrote literary history. The Bible is a literary masterwork, whether or not you believe it’s fiction (or however you define the canon). Moby-Dick is a great novel rife with factual digressions about whaling (or is its fiction the real digression?). The truly literary man reads widely and deeply. As Francis Bacon writes, “Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.” More men—and not just men—would read literature if they realized its great breadth.
Second, we need to emphasize that books can—and always have—helped men master themselves, best their enemies, and make a place for themselves in the world. A visceral example comes from the movie Patton. After vanquishing Rommel in battle, the titular American general yells at the retreating Nazi, “You magnificent bastard, I read your book!” Most men are not in a position to read a rival’s book on military strategy, and then defeat him via armored combat. But literature can provide psychological insight and a self-fortifying Weltanschauung to help conquer dark forces within and without. A primer on existentialism will overcome anxiety as well as any pill, and without the nasty side effects.1 A reading of history in the spirit of Herodotus—as human nature made manifest over time—will prepare you for good fortune and disaster alike. There’s no better way to heed Sun Tzu’s advice on war—”know the enemy and know yourself”—than via a deep dive into the literature. For monastics, books were God’s munitions. According to Godefroy de Sainte-Barbe, “A cloister without a library is a citadel without an arsenal.”2 So too, for a literary man’s home.
Morris notes that many marginalized young men voted for Donald Trump, and remarks that “These young men need better stories — and they need to see themselves as belonging to the world of storytelling.” Sure, but real literature isn’t propaganda for a progressive narrative—or a conservative narrative, for that matter. Literature, of whatever genre, tells stories that transcend petty partisan politics, that reject the false urgency of now. A good book speaks to us across centuries. A great one expresses the voice of eternity. As Baldesar Castiglione writes, “he who does not feel the delight of letters, cannot either know how great is the glory they so long preserve, and measures it by the life of one man or two, because his memory runs no further.” Young men should read so they become deeper, wiser, and more powerful (knowledge is power), not so they’ll vote for a particular party. Literature isn’t a spur with which to tame men into adhering to societal norms. Rather, books make a man more dangerous to society; capable of smashing as well as defending the status quo. Reading won’t detoxify men’s masculinity. It will make them better—indeed, manlier—men.
See, for example, William Barrett’s Irrational Man: A Study in Existential Philosophy (1958).
Quoted in Regis Debray, God: An Itinerary, p. 185.